I’m 30 today. THIRTY.
I’ve had mixed emotions about this milestone, mainly because I just don’t feel I am where I should be at 30. My thirties always seemed so far away and I was relieved in knowing that I had plenty of time to groom myself into an appropriate, well-rounded 30-something adult.
I recently came across this Daily Muse article, which gave me a renewed perspective, arming me with confidence to take my 30s by the horns:
30 Things You Don’t Have to Have By 30
My commentary in purple
- A spouse—or even someone you want to go on a second date with. Amen! I’m married to my adorable cats
- A child. Or a pet. Or even an herb garden. Good, ’cause kids kinda creep me out and I lack the green thumb gene big time. However, my cats are my pride and joy
- A decision on how you feel about having children. Yes, I know—Mother Nature has a say in this one, but if we’re going to put a timeline on it, can it at least be 34 ½? See previous comment
- Your dream job. Or even an idea of what that might be. Should you figure it out? Yeah. But, because you deserve it—not because you have to have it by 30. My definition of ‘dream’ job has definitely evolved over the years. As long as I’m passionate about what I’m doing and feeling challenged and rewarded, I’m content. And right now, I’m very content professionally
- A house (or enough money in your bank account to even think about having a down payment). Uhh yeah, I’m not THAT grown up yet. Sheesh!
- A room in your place that doesn’t serve an essential purpose—like someone eating or sleeping there. I actually disagree on this one. My OCD and control freak tendencies rear their ugly heads when everything in my home isn’t organized or serving some purpose. And for the record, the kitchen is my sacred place
- A “bedroom set” (or any piece of furniture that you plan to keep forever). Yeah, that’s just to matchy-matchy for my taste. I do, however, have an awesome bedframe that I don’t think I’ll be able to part ways with for a long time
- Your own laundry machines. Thankfully the house I rent comes with ‘em
- A “signature style.” Heck, it will probably change in your 30s anyway, right? I lack style in every sense. But perhaps my “Jenn-isms” could qualify as my signature style (Doi, holla!)
- Knowledge of how to cook a Thanksgiving turkey. There’s still time for that—and in the meantime, there’s Whole Foods. I don’t even know how to roast a Cornish hen let alone a ginormous turkey to feed a group of folks. I always offer to bring my famous dessert and let the real grown-ups tackle the bird.
- Ample storage. What’s storage?
- A car that was manufactured in the current decade. Or a car, period. Or, if you live in New York, a driver’s license. I didn’t get my license until I turned 21 and promptly bought a brand new car the next day. Miss Lolita (my VW Jetta) has been a trusty companion for the past 8 years…until today. She broke down THREE times, once while I was on the freeway. I guess she’s feeling a bit old and cranky herself. Time for her senior citizen check-up
- A working knowledge of how to set up cable equipment. I will throw as much money at this problem to avoid figuring it out myself
- A pair of truly comfortable high heels (seriously, these might not exist). Comfortable for the first 5 minutes, yes. But try trotting around in Vegas for your BFF’s bachelorette party…yeah no bueno. And it doesn’t help that my wide feet look like over-boiled sausages when I wear heels
- Enough stamps in your passport. Because, unless you are Hillary Clinton, will you ever have that? My current version is lacking. But my childhood passport was loaded from all the travel we did while my father served in the military. It was my show-n-tell item one year in elementary school
- An answer to, “Where do you see yourself in five years?” Be honest: At 25, did you see yourself here? Let’s take one year at a time, mkay?
- The ability to handle a crisis (or moving) without a crying phone call to your mother. I’m such an emotionally-charged person and 100% useless during a crisis
- A readily available matching pair of socks. I don’t think I even have a matching pair at all, come to think of it
- Guilt for eating the (very large) remainder of cookie dough in the bowl. Cookie dough isn’t really my cup of tea. But an endless supply of Haribo gummy bears….yeah, we’d have a big problem
- Any idea on how to make (or even really enjoy) a gin martini. I only know how to open a bottle of wine. And then pour and sip. Rinse and repeat…many, many times
- The ability to do your own taxes. A good thing to know? Sure. But otherwise, that’s what the lovely people at H&R Block are there for. That’s what my accountant-type friends are for. Dinner & wine is on me!
- The ability to turn down 2-for-1 margaritas at Happy Hour. Exactly.
- Eye cream. Because that’s just throwing in the towel. It’s all a marketing ploy!
- Giving up on the belief that maybe—just maybe—you could win the lottery someday. My luck gets better over time — just the other day I won a free drink at a restaurant. So I’m hopeful about the lottery
- A city you call home. As a military brat, I moved every couple years and never established a “hometown.” I guess now that I’ve been in Seattle for over a decade, it’s my adopted hometown
- More than 500 Facebook friends. I don’t think I even like 500 people. Nor do 500 people like me
- The desire to wake up the morning after your 30th birthday not feeling hungover. I’m actually being a total lamer tonight due to a sore throat and nasty cough. I plan to make up for it later, don’t you worry
- The words “I’m too old for that” in your vocabulary. Already guilty of this actually…
- Any list—“30 Things Every Woman Should Have and Should Know” or otherwise—fully complete. Double doi holla!
- Any idea of what the future will hold. As Gloria Steinem puts it:
“I want to say to you that there is life and dreams and surprises after 30—and 40, and 50, and 60, and 77! Believe me, life is one long surprise.” Cheers to that!
I’m actually looking forward to the exciting adventures that await me in my 30s and beyond. I am truly blessed to have a loving family, amazing friends, a great job, roof over my head, food on the table, and the luxury of treating myself to the “nice to haves” here and there. No complaints here!