Which is better? Your twenties or your thirties? (We are not even going to discuss forties and beyond, because let's face it...the thought of that still terrifies me!) ;) A couple friends of mine were having this discussion on Facebook and it got me thinking...
Did I love my twenties? Or do I love my thirties more?
My twenties were dedicated to babies, babies and more babies. If I wasn't growing one, I was feeding one. Or changing one. Or chasing one. Or screaming because one took off their diaper and decided to go all "da Vinci" on my walls. Oh, how I loved these babies (and I still do!), but I honestly thought about committing myself. More than once. A day.
I hated my body in my twenties. I hid that body under layers of sweatpants and t-shirts, that had somehow become my official Mommy apparel...which I also hated. I had no time to sleep or shower...let alone exercise on a consistent basis. (Unless you count chasing little naked Houdini's, who always outsmarted me in the "Get Outta This Diaper" Olympics.)
I was in debt, in my twenties. I had the dream home...without the dream bank account. I wanted to prove how adult I was, by surrounding myself with things, things and more things. Things bought on credit. Things I couldn't afford, but I wanted. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
I lived for other people, in my twenties. I did what was expected and I lived to make other people happy. Yes, they were all my own choices and I do not regret a single one of them, but I now know that I made them for the wrong reasons. I worried, far too much, about what others thought about me, my life and my choices. I made too many decisions based off of an emotional reaction, instead of basing them off logical thought.
Now I'm in my thirties. And. I'm. Loving. It.
My thirties are dedicated to raising my babies. Easier? No. Less messy? No, not really. But reasoning with a 9 year old, is easier than reasoning with a 9 month old. Usually. I can have fun with them in ways that I couldn't before. I can have conversations with them, that make me stare in awe, at the little people they are becoming.
I have learned to put myself first, in my thirties. Selfish? No. I make exercise part of my daily routine and I am working on loving ME. My children now have a Mommy who feels that living and eating healthy are a priority. I am happier. I am healthier. I am instilling in them the need to care for your body. They are all involved in their own active extracurriculars and it makes me happy, watching them excel at something they love.
I'm still in debt in my thirties. However, my debt is school related and not "things" related. I have learned to budget for things I want and if the budget can't handle it...then I don't really need it. Feeling more financially stable and less tied down to the stress and worry that comes with debt, is an incredibly freeing feeling.
I am less scared of others and myself, in my thirties. I have made decisions that some people do not approve of, but for the most part, I am still loved. I am still accepted. I am still valued. Those who can no longer see my value, will self-select out of my life...and I have learned that I have to be okay with that. I wish them the best and hope they do for me, as well. I make choices based on what is best for me, my family, our happiness and our well-being.
(And honestly? People think about you far less than your paranoid self worries about in your twenties.)
I love myself. More than I did yesterday, but less than I will tomorrow. I recognize that this will more than likely be a life-long process. Accepting every little piece of myself, without feeling the need to defend any part of who I am, will probably take the better part of my thirties and beyond.
So...would I relive my twenties if given the chance?
Not a chance in the world.
I'm thankful for the lessons that decade taught me, but I am having far too much fun living in my thirties...to waste any time crying about my twenties.