As I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, I noticed the unthinkable.
I've been dreading the big 3-0 for some time now. Growing "old" was just not something I ever intended to do. I was going to be forever young at heart. Full of energy and swarming with children that were happy, healthy, well rounded, beautiful and we'd spend our days singing songs, learning about the world, and playing in the crisp sunshiney air of paradise. My husband would come home to a perfectly clean home (a large one with a beautifully manicured yard) and he would happily tickle the children on the floor until I graced the table with my 5 course meal. 30 was old, and for sure, by then, I'd have it all figured out and life would be perfect.
The thing about life is that it isn't perfect. So as 30 approaches, I am faced with unrealized dreams. Yes, I have a loving husband and a happy, healthy, beautiful little boy. So who am I to complain (I mean seriously, I've got it pretty good)?