An ode to my 20s on the eve of my 30th birthday—thank you

Dear twenties,

It’s been a memorable decade. A ten year quest to find love, fulfillment, and yes—a good time.

You taught me so much about myself, my relationships, and where I want to be in life.

You taught me how to do adult things like live by myself, make my own doctor’s appointments (now I make two other tiny people’s appointments, too! #MomStatus), get off my parents cell phone plan, and buy a house (yep―in the ‘burbs.)

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I rode a long and winding career roller coaster in my twenties. Volunteered for a year, took the obligatory first job out of college job that paid the rent. Started a blog. Worked for a daily deal website startup. Got my masters. Got pregnant. Taught for a year. Stayed home with my daughter. Became a writer.

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I have been taught this by friends who are willing to drop everything and meet you at the aquarium to cheer you up and distract the kids. Or the one who shows up with a fully cooked meal days after you’ve given birth making your heart burst with gratitude. The one who stood by you on your wedding day, and the one you made the godmother of your child.

I made new friends, lost touch with old ones, and still have a circle that’ll stick for life.

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My twenties gave me my husband, and made me a wife. He’s the person I know inside and out. My best friend. He knows the different tones of my voice, every curve of my body, and my deepest fears. My twenty-year-old self who worried about finding love didn’t know yet that I’d hit the love jackpot.

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My twenties gave me my daughters, and made me a mama. This transformation has confused me, challenged me and brought me immense joy and pride. It has completed me in a way I didn’t know I needed to feel complete. Being a mother to my children teaches me something new each day and motivates me to be a better person.

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I’ve learned that no one is perfect (not even your parents).

I’ve learned that that’s okay (perfection is boring).

That you’ll make mistakes (and can recover).

That it’s okay to wear white after Labor Day (but never as a guest at a wedding).

That laughing really is the best medicine (except when Motrin is better, i.e. when you come home from the hospital).

To fake it til you make it (you’ll make it).

And that the best version of yourself is…yourself (take it or leave it, people).

I still believe that yoga pants are real pants (for life), lipstick makes you look more polished (even with a messy bun, and yes, those yoga pants), and to be kind (it’ll get you very far).

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You’ve given me the iPhone, Instagram, and all the emojis ???✊?❤️.

Solo-artist Beyonce, the catchphrase #TreatYoSelf, and the Bravermans.

I couldn’t live without any of these things. (Kidding. Kind of.)

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Yes. I can say that I did.

The parties may now involve tea and princess crowns instead of kegs and solo cups, and the up-all-night ragers are caused by teething infants and toddlers climbing out of bed.

The wine may be of the bottled variety instead of the boxed (for the most part #GuiltyPleasure), and date night may often be on the couch with takeout and rarely at the latest hotspot downtown.

Possibilities that involve thinking of three other people’s feelings and not just my own. And I love that.

My twenties gave me my family.

So here’s to my Saturday early morning wake up call—varying between a kick to the head or cries for milk from one of the two little people who often show up in my bedroom unannounced and climb into my bed whether invited or not. So long to the sleeping-until-12-then-moseying-somewhere-for-brunch days of yore. ?

Here’s to the clutter. The craziness. The commotion. And the coffee. (All of the coffee.)

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Here’s to the dance parties that have relocated from the bar to the playroom. With two new characters—my little girls. My world. My new world. My thirty-year-old world.

I am reminded every day that this new world I am in is the best. And it just keeps getting better with age.

Twenties, you were legendary. You were transformative. You were f a b u l o u s. You started with Troubled Britney, and ended with Triumphant Vegas Britney—and for that I am forever grateful.

Now, on the eve of my thirtieth birthday, I look to my next decade with excitement, determination, and love. Thirty used to sound super old when I watched Friends, but I’m not scared of it anymore.

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Sayonara twenties. It’s been real.

Love,

Thirty-year-old me