Christmas 2010

I’m 30 and just celebrated my 30th Christmas. In the end I had laughed a lot, ate too much, and was licked to death by a couple of cute doggies. But, it’s not what it used to be.

Many of my best childhood memories revolve around our unvarying holidays. For more than 20 years we celebrated at the same places with the same people and the same menu; ham at Easter, turkey on Thanksgiving, appetizers on Christmas Eve, and again, ham on Christmas. Of course the guests changed over the years. That is inevitable. New faces came and went. Old faces faded. And sure, there was a time or two that our far from random celebrations varied. But what remained; I was home and the food was fabulous.

If you know me, you know this. I am a uniform type of girl. I eat the same thing over and over again at restaurants and rarely try anything new. Everything in my house has a place. All labels face outward. I organize hangers by size and color. I like things to be the consistently the same. I fold towels the same way every single time. I loathe just the thought of variation. I follow the same routine every morning. I do things over and over again until they are perfect (e.g. the reason why I only posted 1 blog last month). Conformity is comforting. So for me, two decades of repetitious quality time with my family was fantastic. Things have changed.

Although meeting Matt was absolutely the best thing that ever happened to me, the one consequence that I dreaded was choosing with whom to spend the holidays. Like many couples, we decided to “rotate” which family we would bless with our presence at those festivities; my family Easter and Christmas one year and only Thanksgiving the next, then vice versa. Only to make things more difficult, my adorable niece Aubrey was born 4 days before Christmas last year. For this reason alone, I want to spend every Christmas in Southern Illinois.

This year I spent Christmas 8 hours from where my heart really was. The routine I have been accustomed to no longer exists. Spending every other Christmas in Missouri and the un-Followell-like meals that it brings is my new reality. And as of today, I am okay with that. We’ll see what 2012 brings.

P.S. Don’t let the title of this blog fool you. I think this ended up being more about my extremely overly obsessive compulsiveness than it did Christmas.

I'm From

I’m 30 and lived in 6 towns in 2 states. I grew up in my parent’s first home and their last. I’ve inhabited a dorm, an apartment, and a townhouse. I’ve lived in the quiet country and in the middle of a questionable part of town. I survived living with my Grandma, my sister and my in-laws. Today I live on Michigan Avenue. All of those places I called home, but this is where I am really from…

I am from the orange rocking chair where my mom used to sing me to sleep and the Smurf sheets where she would lay me to bed.

I am from Grandma’s biscuits and gravy and Grandpa’s tall tales, Sunday school with Grandma Shirley and exploring (terrorizing) Mulkeytown with Uncle Tony.

I am from Frieda, Molly, Julie, Sam, Coco, Scooter, Bobby, Coby and Harley and Avery too.

I am from sleepovers with grade school friends and (years later) hangovers with them too.

I am from Scottish, Hungarian, and American Indian ancestry.

I am from pulling hair, biting, and scratching with Niki and then finally growing to be the best of friends.

I am from long school bus rides and even longer nights on the phone with best friends.

I am from Friday night football games and Saturday morning yard work.

I am from hundreds family photos kept nearby and hilarious home videos.

I am from family dinner at the table (almost) every night and green pancakes for breakfast.

I am from Christmas Eve appetizers and ham on Christmas Day.

I am from a past that keeps me awake some nights and a loving husband that keeps me in the present and looks forward to our future.

I am from chili with peanut butter and syrup sandwiches in the fall…and winter and spring and summer.

I am from birthday parties in the basement and bonfires in the yard.

I am from a heart so broken, I thought it would never heal and a heart so full of love I sometimes feel like it may explode.

I am from back road cruises and summers that seemed to last forever.

I am from Anna’s All Star Gymnastics, cheerleading, volleyball, track, and just one summer of softball; dance lessons, tennis lessons, and swim lessons.

I am from a red, then pink, then purple, then black childhood bedroom.

I am from a house in the middle of nowhere that I hated, but would now give anything to be there.

I am from Charlie’s love of music and Patty’s laugh and infectious smile; their immeasurable love, integrity, and compassion.

I feel like my life has started over more than once. That makes it difficult to remember my past; recollections are starting to fade. Sometimes I don’t know if my memories are dreams that I’ve had or if my history creates my dreams. But these I keep close to my heart. Of all the people, places, and things that consume my life, they are what make me feel most at home.

Still here...

I’m still here. It’s been awhile, I know this. I am in the middle of writing a couple ditties concerning the craziness that is my life. I’m not quite finished with either of them. I have come to believe that on top of the OCD I am also ADD. I start a project and quickly get bored. Or again, it could just be the time thing. Matt and I have a lot going on lately. House (still remodeling), work (there goes 10 hours of my day), family (Christopher one weekend, St Louis the next); the list goes on and on. Good thing we don’t have kids yet. I am sure nothing would get accomplished. Anyway…sooner than later you will get to read two posts on the same day. That’s my plan anyway. Can you hold back the excitement?!

Watch Out!

I’m 30. And I can’t drive. Or should I say forgotten how to drive properly. It’s my new thing. Here’s the story…

I spent the majority of my sophomore year of high school counting down the days until my 16th birthday would arrive. I carefully marked off the days on my calendar as I anticipated my long awaited freedom. Finally, on Wednesday February 21, 1996 the clouds parted and the heavens opened. My license picture was better than most. I wore my favorite Guess sweatshirt and my smile (just got my braces off a year earlier) was perfect. The driving I did to obtain my new “privilege” was less than perfect, but I passed. And that was all that mattered to me. I was free.

Free to back into the fence in the school parking lot. Free to get the mirror knocked off my mom’s car in front of Dairy Queen. Free to drive all the way from Jordan’s house to mine with the parking brake on. Free to run off the road and flip my car. Free to get a speeding ticket on my 18th birthday. I’m not proud.

Except for one speeding ticket, I have been a meticulous driver since then. I was told by a certain driver’s ed teacher that it was okay to brake with my left foot since I was a lefty. No one else (and by no one else, I mean Matt) seems think it’s safe. So, I have slowly but surely learned how to brake without using my left foot. I had a horrible habit of slowing down without noticing when I would talk while driving and then floor it when I did realize what I was doing. So, I have learned to use cruise to increase gas mileage. It snows like no ones business here and snowdrifts get taller than my car. So I have unwillingly learned how to plow through snow like I am skiing down the Alps. But lately, I’ve forgotten what my dad taught me when I sat on his lap as a child and drove home from grandma and grandpas house. Memories of a certain high school boyfriend yelling at me to speed up, use my turn signal, and make complete stops have faded. I have become a total ditz when it comes to commuting. It’s not my fault though.

During my 14 year driving career I have always driven cars; Sable, 1st Probe, 2nd Probe, Cavalier, and Sentra…all small cars. I drove Matt’s Sierra a couple times here and there with no harm done. Last year, Matt traded his truck for a Chevy Traverse. After a short training session on how to maneuver a larger automobile I became a pro at driving a crossover. This year, Matt (against my wishes) traded in the Traverse for a Yukon. Again, after a short training session, the Yukon became my weekend friend. Last month (thanks to a shorter commute to work) it became my best friend. Although my feet don’t touch the floor and I cannot see over the hood, we’ve had tons of fun together. In 4 weeks we have killed and animal or two or three or four. I cry every time. We have smashed a shopping cart. I couldn’t see it. And this weekend we murdered pumpkins that were supposed to go to Marshall students. Again, I couldn’t see. It’s not that I am losing my sight or not paying attention to the world around me. I’m just too short to be driving something so big. That’s my excuse anyway.

It's my new thing. I am a horrible driver, but I am working on it. Watch out Terre Haute drivers, Ang will be on the road in 11 minutes.

Still No Time...

I'm 30. But this blog has nothing to do with that.

Last Monday I started my new job. Due to the time change (since I work in Indiana now) I just knew that getting home at 4:30 would leave me with so much free time. I just new that I would finally have the opportunity to sit down at the computer (without feeling guilty that Matt has no clean underwear) and to do the thing I love best...write. Regrettably, it hasn't. Somehow that extra time has been spent doing other things around the house that I never had time to do or wasn't too tired to do previously.

Obsessively cleaning the floors and catching up on laundry have become my new hobby. Instead of making a list of things to write about, I find myself making lists of what to clean or organize next. It's a problem. Even at its dirtiest, the house is not even close to being uninhabitable. Although, more times than not I feel ashamed and embarassed that my house is not perfect. Again, it's a problem. Matt will agree.

Alas, I have taken a few moments from my new routine to write this. It is short and sweet,that is for sure. But it is the truth. Now back to the decontamination.

Cleanliness to next to godliness. ~John Wesley

The Things That Make Me Happy...

I’m 30. Over the years I have grown to like, love and at times almost obsess over certain people, places, and things. This by no means is a list comparable to Oprah’s favorite things. They’re just my favorites. Here are a few of them:

Writing, books, Cool Water cologne, swimming, interior design, green grass, Maggie Mae, logic puzzles, Michael Jackson, organizing, summertime, cupcakes, My Matt, blogging, paisley patterns, Lady Antebellum, shopping, museums, the movie Big, the smell of fresh cut grass, Las Vegas, water, all shades of green, iced tea, expensive purses, STL, Fresca, Provel cheese, the ocean, Lilies, spinach dip, sleeping in, Facebook, boating, Happy perfume, my sister, Glee, Johnny Depp, Twilight, peanut butter and apple butter on an English muffin, springtime, Crate and Barrel, crafting, bacon, Katy Perry, my iPod, candles, Chevy Malibu, pears (not to eat, just to look at), weddings, BW3’s, jewelry, the movie Big, Christmas, when Matt wears his glasses, winter, The Band Perry, loosing weight, any shade of blue, hammocks, sunshine, lots of pillows on my bed, cruises, fried zucchini, bean fields, fishing, Miss Aubrey Ann, The Big Bang Theory, old storage trunks, mint chip ice cream, moonlight, people watching, Darius Rucker, fried chicken, birdhouses, staying in hotels, grilling out, the smell of a clean house, The Container Store, puppies, riding my bike, old barns, Two and a Half Men, Tom Hanks, the Cardinals, waterfalls, tropical fish, Target, Chicago, kittens, visiting Mulkeytown/Christopher, Taylor Lautner, How I Met Your Mother, rocking chairs, eBay, Eva Cassidy, peace and quiet, getting my hair cut and colored, pizza, the sound of a fan when I sleep, The Kardashians, Valentine’s Day, carpet instead of hardwood, having my back scratched, milk, Matt when he wears a baseball cap with the bill pulled up a little bit, dogs, Dahlias, Biscotti cookies, fall, bookcases that take up an entire wall, Elvis, fire pits, label makers, Golden Girls, photography, birdcages, breakfast foods for dinner, Sharpies, President Obama, baskets, my Droid X, cheesecake, Cranberry and Malibu, nautical décor, Cuban sandwiches, John Travolta, iced coffee, date nights with Matt, snow, loud music, magazines, flea markets, Hydrangeas, my pillow, John Mayer, sundresses, laughing until I can’t breathe, popcorn, Tiffany Lamps, Harry Potter, lasagna, the gangster Pretty Boy Floyd, watching movies in the theatre, Carmex, making spreadsheets, Barcode scanner app, chocolate (sugar free of course), pumpkins, Marshall’s Fall Festival, lightning bugs, mashed potatoes, garage sales, quilts, seashells, pellet ice, post cards, fingernail polish, Quizno’s, Arts and Crafts houses, cats, Leonardo DiCaprio, watching movies at home, pruning, Violets, using exact change, The Hangover, freshly waxed eyebrows, the smell of Banana Boat tanning oil, porch swings, old keys, birdbaths…finally getting a job oh so much closer to home. Today, this is my absolute favorite thing. This makes me happy.

30 before 40

I’m 30. I've made a list of 30 things I want to accomplish before I am 40. I had a list in my head of things that I wanted to do before I turned the big 3-0. I met only about half of those goals. So, either I was a slacker or just didn’t have the resources to reach them. Now I have no excuse. They have been written (although not in stone) and must be achieved!

1) Build my dream home. My OCD and decorating skills are yearning to be utilized in this way. A whole house from scratch, just the way I want it. Can’t wait!

2) Have lots of babies. Okay, not lots, but at least one. I’m not getting any younger.

3) See the Northern Lights. Who wouldn’t want to do that?

4) Open my own Bookstore/Decorating/Organizing business. See my blog Big Dreams.

5) Swim with dolphins.

6) Visit the 10 most romantic U.S. cities according to Yahoo!. Las Vegas and Miami…check. Honolulu, Charleston, San Francisco, New Orleans, Santa Fe, San Diego, San Antonio, and New York to go.

7) Visit the Louvre.

8) Be a member of the audience of a TV show (SNL, David Letterman, Oprah)

9) Visit Ireland and Italy.

10) Achieve my ideal weight…1xx. Did you actually think I was going to tell you?

11) Have a vacation home in the mountains.

12) Drive along Route 66 in an RV. This one probably won’t happen until we’re retired, but I can hope!

13) Purchase a really, really expensive purse. I’m thinking Coach…the Madison Embossed Exotic. This will happen soon. I’m obsessed.

14) Earn the salary that I know I am worth.

15) Fly first class. This can easily be accomplished with my Air Tran A+ Rewards card. But, I just need the time (and money) to go somewhere.

16) Attend a movie premiere.

17) Invent something. I’ve been trying to think of a way to let Maggie out from the 2nd floor of our house…a doggy elevator type thing.

18) Get my Masters degree.

19) Volunteer. I don’t do it. I need to.

20) Spend New Year’s Eve at Times Square.

21) Ride in a hot air balloon. Even though I am terrified of heights, I am willing to suck it up. I know the view would be amazing.

22) See a Broadway play in New York.

23) Go a year without coloring my hair. Maybe at 39 I’ll do that. I’m curious to whether I will have any gray hair by then.

24) Play Heart and Soul on the piano.

25) See Josh Groban in concert.

26) Own a Chevy Malibu. This may happen sooner than later if I get a job closer to home!

27) Go on another cruise…anywhere but the Bahamas.

28) Delete my facebook account. Another thing that I am obsessed with. Sometimes it seems that I spend more time with it than I do Matt.

29) Learn to sew. My mother in law made curtains for my dining room. I want to be able to do that for the rest of my house.

30) Continue blogging. It’s very therapeutic and so much fun.

Me Previously Part 2

By my 21st birthday I was way too tanned for February, blonder than I had ever been, and I was depressed. My heart was broken. My mom was sick. Murray State was getting the best of me. My life was unraveling before my eyes. I was homesick more than ever. A year later mom had passed. I grew apart from my dad and sister. I was needy, lonely and so in denial that I that I felt like mom had just left us. For the longest time I thought that I would see her walking though the mall or passing by in a car. But, that’s another story for another time.

The next 5 years I spent in a daze. I was in a relationship that was never going to work. So I married him. It didn’t last too long. I left him April 1, 2007 and was divorced shortly after. That’s all I have to say about that.

At 27 I started over. I was scared, embarrassed, and unemployed. After a very short stay with my grandma, I gathered what little stuff I took from Kentucky and made a new home in Westville with Niki and Trevor. That summer I reconnected with my sister whom I had missed so much. I lost 25 pounds, got a job and started dating. It was exciting. I became myself again, but much more vocal. After a miserable 5 years I finally felt free and words just flowed from my mouth. I spent the summer of 2007 just talking. For so long I had all these thoughts and feelings bottled up inside of me. I had secrets that I never thought I would tell anyone, but I did that summer. It was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. I could breathe again.

November 11, 2007 is really the day that I started over…well, my love life started over at least. Matt very unexpectedly came into my life. From that day forward I knew that life for me would be sweet again and I haven’t looked back. Again, that’s another story for another time.

2008 brought new experiences and more love than I had felt in a long time. My family was in my life again and Matt’s family welcomed me into theirs with open arms. In September Matt’s sister got married. I caught the bouquet and on November 15, 2008 he proposed. I wasn’t too surprised; I did catch the bouquet. The rest of the year I spent anxiously planning every significant and minuscule detail of the ceremony and reception.

2009 brought out the OCD in me, but also allowed me to utilize my self professed interior decorating and organizational skills. On June 27th we were married and the OCD didn’t go away. We moved into our home on August 1st and luckily the house wasn’t (still isn’t) completely done so I was still able to make use of my design “expertise”. Miss Maggie, our Boston Terrier came into our lives Labor Day weekend. Life has been…um, should I say more exciting since then. She’s the only baby I have right now so she gets treated as such. She’s spoiled. The end of 2009 introduced us to Miss Aubrey to us. She is the most astonishingly beautiful niece an Auntie could ever hope to have. I love her dearly and plan on spoiling her rotten as well.

This year has been tough and not only because I have come to what I consider reasonably scary age. In April I lost my grandmother. Seeing her pass brought back memories of my mom. It was very difficult for me to handle, but I made it though. In June I was diagnosed with Diabetes. In July I was 0 for 5 in job interviews. It is my hope that the remainder of my second 29th year will be in my favor.

There are more things in life that I know nothing about than things I know for sure. I know nothing about rocket science or how a tractor runs or why I can't remember the last thing I said to my mother before she died. I do know that I will spend more time in Southern Illinois and less time stressing over the unimportant things in life. I will be thankful that I am alive and love my husband a little more everyday. I will live my life to please only myself. I will contiune to exist.

Me Previously

I’m 30. I did exist before then. This is me previously…

I was born on snowy Thursday morning on February 21, 1980. Okay, so I don’t know that it actually snowed that day, but I’m sure that it was cold. So young (20 and 22) and married just 7 months, I’m sure my parents had no idea what was in store for them. At 9:16am, Angela Marie Followell met the world. I wasn’t the prettiest baby girl, but I was loved. That I know for sure.

Two years later on Friday May 21, 1982 my sister Nicole was born. Of course, I don’t recall that specific day, but I know that I loved her from the moment I saw her. Looking at pictures of her then reminds me that she was much cuter than me. I loved the way she felt in her terrycloth pajama’s when I would snuggle up close; so warm and cuddly. The feeling didn’t last long. She became a pincher and I was her favorite thing to take her 2 year old anger out on.

In 1985 I started Kindergarten at Mulkeytown Grade School. There were about 10 kids in Mrs. Simpson’s class. It was a whole new world to me and I loved it. Twenty-five years later, my fondest memory was having milk donuts on the bleachers in the gym before school. I don’t know how often that happened, but it was fantastic. I also remember my school picture that year. My mom gave me a butterfly necklace from Avon that had 3 of 4 interchangeable butterflies to coordinate with my outfits. Dad must have got me ready that morning because the turquoise butterfly I wore that day did not match my maroon flowered dress. Mom was devastated and dad paid dearly, I’m sure.

The summer of 1988 the Followell family went on an excursion only the brave would attempt; driving to Disney World. The air conditioner died and we lost Niki (just for a short time) but in the end it was the most amazing vacation an 8 year old could ever imagine. That school year I met my best friend Katie. She had just moved to Christopher and I was sort of new. Mulkeytown consolidated with Christopher the year before so it was my 2nd year at a new school. We were meant to be. It was fate. We were attached at the hip. I loved her as much as I did my own sister. We spent the next 6 years doing the things that best friends do, but even better. Sleepovers, science books, and swimming come to mind. We also made prank calls on a daily basis, went on vacations together and spent every football season covering Christopher in toilet paper. Good times.

In 1994 I graduated 8th grade and began my career as a naïve high school girl that cared more about boys (2 or 3 come to mind) than actually learning anything. They broke my heart. The end of my sophomore year I got my drivers license. I had the privilege of driving my mom’s awesome Mercury Sable (Ang Nik 2) for a few months. Other than having the mirror knocked off of it in front of Dairy Queen, nothing too horrendous happened. Gas didn’t cost $6,187,249,259 a gallon then, so I spent every weekend making sure to empty the tank just in time for Mom to go to work Monday morning. On June 13, 1996 I was introduced to my first real love. I welcomed the 1992 sea foam green Ford Probe (Angla 80) that I had been drooling over for months. It was spectacular, it was perfect…until I demolished it my senior year. And that was the end of my love affair with an automobile. By graduation I had gained knowledge, but grown apart from my best friend, I had gained life experience, but misplaced (some of) my youth. Would I go back if I could? Possibly.

The summer of 1998 I spent working at Wendy’s and every other waking moment with Maria. Someone special was on the way and I didn’t want to miss it. School (RLC), work (RLC and K’s Merchandise), friends (Maria, Alechia, Jordan) is how I spent my first semester as a college student. I shared my 19th birthday with Maria’s baby shower. Two days later Sophia came into the world. The next year I spent every waking moment with Maria and Sophie. I celebrated my 20th birthday with Sophie’s 1st birthday. That August I left for Murray as naïve young woman that had every opportunity in the world to achieve great things. But life is not a contract set in stone. My life changed instantly.

To be continued...

I Feel It

I’m 30. My body, at times feels much older.

This year it is more difficult to get out of bed in the morning. My left hip aches when I take long walks. My back hurts when I sit too long. My knees crack. My ankle that I sprained in 5th grade throbs when it rains. I was recently diagnosed with Diabetes.

I wasn’t devastated with the results of my lab work. I have suspected it for some time now. I didn’t cry when the nurse told me that I have a disease that causes more deaths a year than breast cancer and AIDS combined. I just told myself my family history played the lead role in this drama. I ignored the possibility that I brought this on myself by gaining almost 50 pounds since high school. I was worried the lifestyle change alone would kill me before the diabetes. But, I was ready for a change.

My first doctor appointment after the diagnosis pissed me off more than anything. She didn’t need to tell me that Diabetes is a serious illness. I’m not stupid. She didn’t need to tell me that I needed to loose the chubbiness that is my stomach. I see my self everyday. I know it’s not pretty. What really upset me was her suggestion that I partake in 90 minutes of vigorous exercise daily. Who has the time for that? Not me. I cried on the way back to work that morning. I cried on my way home from work that evening. I cried for a week.

Since then I have spoke with a nutritionist and started a low-carb diet. I’m taking medication with the most unpleasant side effect. I try to walk in the evening when I get home from work. I also started riding a bike. Sugar free chocolate has become my friend. I miss mashed potatoes the most. In 7 weeks I have lost 11 pounds. My goal is to loose 36 more.

Diabetes is not reversible. My sugar has never been out of control. It was just high enough for me to be considered diabetic. Even with controlled blood sugar, I will always carry the label, the burden. There may be a time where I don’t have to take medication, but carbs/sugar will always be my enemy. I will always have to watch what I eat. But, I am alive and well and that’s the most important thing in my opinion.

I bet you didn’t think you’d be getting a crappy health lesson today, did you?

Big Dreams

I’m 30. My career is years behind.

When I was 10 I dreamed of living in New York City. I dreamed that by 30 I would be settled in an amazing apartment (think the movie Big) with an even more amazing career. I don’t remember what I wanted to be at the time. All I knew is that Mulkeytown would be miles behind me and I would be a reputable business woman in the Big Apple on my own, bringing home a more than adequate pay check.

When I was 18 I dreamed of being an interior decorator. I practiced on the walls of my bedroom. I also wanted to write poetry (thanks to teenage heartbreak) and own a bookstore (think Meg Ryan in You’ve Got Mail). When it came time to decide on a college major, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. So, I chose to be a business major, with really no attainable career goals. My dreams have always been bigger than I could ever achieve. Decorating, writing, and my love of books have so far turned out to be just a hobby.

Twelve years later I am in a position that requires me to get up at 4:30 in the morning and spend 3 hours of my day commuting. I do this for a job where I take money from people that they sometimes cannot afford to pay. Sometimes they cry. I do this for a job where I am willing to be talked to like I’m an uneducated, ignorant woman that will never make anything of herself. I can’t take it anymore. I am tired and I don’t like eating dinner 2 hours before I have to go to bed. I don’t like to make people cry. I have been in their shoes. And I don’t like being talked down to. I am much more intelligent than that.

I won’t bore you with the pathetic statistics on my being turned down or not even getting a call for an interview. Let’s just say, I have been seriously looking for 2 years. But all hope is not lost. When I thought my self-esteem couldn’t get any lower, this month employers have been buzzing with interest in me and my hard-working, committed, organized self. Please keep your fingers crossed.

Possibly in another 12 years my once seemingly impossible career goals will be within my reach. I still don’t know exactly what I want to do, but I have an idea. It will involve me doing what I love. It will include books and writing or decorating and for the OCD in me, organizing. Maybe an amalgamation of these things…a store that sells books and offers interior design/organization services where I can write down the ramblings in my mind and share them with the world.

P.S. I know you’re thinking “amalgamation”? It’s from the movie Parenthood. Don’t worry. I don’t use that word on a daily basis. That would make me a nerd.

Time flies...

I turned 30 on February 21, 2010. Almost 5 months later, I still don’t believe it. When I was younger (a lot younger), I pictured myself at 30 as an old, decrepit woman that would have 14 cats calling my home, theirs. I was definitely wrong. Where I got the idea that magically at the beginning of my 3rd decade I would turn into a somewhat friendlier version of the Wicked Witch of the West, I will never know. Could it have been my mother?

My mom turned 30 on March 17, 1989. She did not handle it with the grace that any woman who spent the 80’s as a twenty-something fashionista should. She cried. I clearly remember her sobbing at the kitchen sink doing dishes as my sister and I ate breakfast before school. She obviously wasn’t old and decrepit. I imagine she just realized that a decade of her life passed her by so quickly that she barely had time to breathe. I understand now. I spent the 29th year of my life feeling the same way; dreading loosing my youth, wondering where the last 10 years went.

As it turned out, her 30’s didn’t ruin my mother. She didn’t age significantly. She didn’t stop doing all the wild and crazy things she did in her 20’s. In fact, it’s possible her 30’s were the best years of her life. I won’t let them ruin me either, mom. Look out 31, here I come! But not for 222 more days, please.