None of the Above

I’m Twenty-nine!

All day I’ve been having thankful weeps. This is something that started with D and got more intense when I had my babies. Every birthday, Christmas, moms day…I’m a puddle of tears. For days.

I grew up in a house big on celebrating. I had outrageous themed birthday parties, more gifts under the tree than I could count, a childhood for the books. I also lucked out with sisters who didn’t want the chocolate in advent calendars. WHAT? I’m serious, holidays that childhood dreams were made of.

I married someone who wasn’t used to creating the fuss. Don’t get me wrong, he had a great childhood too but he just wasnt used to creating the fuss. I want(ed) to be woken up to fireworks and iced coffee and a spa. With presents all over my bed. And a mariachi band singing affirmations behind me all day. I’m kind of exaggerating. Kind of.

Anyway, here we are the big 2-9. I woke up annoyed that I was awake with the kids. Annoyed that my mariachi band (that I hadn’t requested) had not yet shown up. Wondering why my granola bar didn’t taste like fried chicken and waffles from Miss Shirley’s (I’m serious if you haven’t had them just stop reading this blog and get there to eat until your heart’s content).

Then my actual day started. The sweet words started rolling in–oh the words spoiled me. The lunch and snowballs and voicemails from my people. My three year old wishing me “happy birthday” at least twenty times before noon. Jay giving me his toothy grin and laying his head in my lap for me to scratch his sweet scalp. It’s too much. I’m rotten for even wanting the mariachi band. I just felt this quiet whisper so clearly.

Ashley, let it go. You don’t need these things. I have words for your heart. You matter. Your people love you. They like you. Stop wanting.

So I laid my giggly baby down for his nap, as he put his stinky boy feet all over my face. I layed down with my girl as she told me everything as it was about to happen while we watched Brave. Kissed her cheek for the 300th time as she wished me “Happy Birthday” again. Then I let the tears get our hair all wet. She asked if I was feeling sad inside and I tried to explain my feelings but she cut me off to tell me what Merida was going to do next.

It’s a sweet life. Full of ridiculous expectations and unfathomable grace. My people are saints. Those I chose and those gifted to me. I’m so thankful.

I have some goals for this next year. I’m giving you permission to get all in my business about them.

  • I want to do one thing with my kids each week that they’d love and I hate. (Insert any word here that includes huge crowds). Even during flu season. GASP!
  • I wish I could literally wear a shock collar for every time I use a tone. Maybe I need a reward chart or something. I have a short fuse and it’s just not okay. If you’ve overcome using a tone I am open to ideas!
  • I’m getting a tattoo before I’m 30. D thinks I’m only doing it because my sister said I wouldn’t and I’m a brat. (I do take people doubting me as a dare but I really want one. Probably a compass).
  • Lastly. I want our kids to start participating in generosity on purpose.

If you like SMART goals (like me) you’re probably cringing. Help me! I need your ideas!

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