in three days and some hours, i'm going to be 29 years old. i've officially been in my "upper 20s" for a couple years now but nothing says adulthood like turning 29.
that's scary stuff, turning 29. i've been sort of in nostalgia mode for the last few days, surely brought on by a newfound addiction to facebook and the reemergence of old friends into my current life. (so long, myspace, it's been fun...) and i've got to tell you, it's making me feel old. well, maybe not necessarily old, but it's making me realize just how long it's been since i graduated high school and entered the big, scary real world. i am certainly not longing for my high school days, they were far from the best days of my life and i wouldn't go back for a second, ever. what i think i'm nostalgic for is independence and selfishness, all wrapped up in one - compounded by a) turning 29 on saturday, but mostly by b) this little guy that's due to arrive in just 101 days.
because as most adults will tell you - or at least the adults that are good at being adults will tell you - growing up and having kids means that it's the end of the "it's all about me" era and the beginning of the "it's all about them" era.
(that statement right there explains so much about the difference between my mom and my dad, i can't even begin to tell you... but anyway...)
after may 15 (or whenever this little buggar decides to arrive), i'm never going to be the same person. let's face it, i'm not the same person now that i was on september 16 of last year. all the decisions i make right now - get up or stay in bed, milk or juice, pop tarts or raisin bran, comfy pants or nice looking pants - all those decisions affect not only me but sweet little baby brodie. (maybe not the pants so much, but the kid probably doesn't want his mom looking like a big fat half-crocked slob either so he might be rooting for the nice looking pants.) and when that dawns on you - that you're making decisions that affect other people, people that depend on you - it can be a tough pill to swallow.
all you mothers out there have to admit that there is a bit of a mourning for an independent life lost no matter how much you anticipate a new life ahead. don't get me wrong - i am absolutely 100 percent thrilled to be where i am right now. i cannot wait to meet this kid, to hold his hand, to kiss his cheeks, to count his toes, to love him, to comfort him, to be a mother - i can't wait for those days. but it's like the point of no return - i'm never going to feel the same about anything. i may look like the old me and sound like the old me, but i doubt i'm going to think like the old me or act like the old me again.
is that such a bad thing?
my mom says no - i'm paraphrasing here but she says i've been floundering for a while, trying to find a true sense of who and what i am. she's right; she generally is. so maybe giving up my old life, turning the final page on what's been a tumultuous five years isn't such a bad thing. it's just that feeling - that new and different "book", the feeling of writing on an unmarked page and completely starting something from scratch - it's intimidating. i don't embrace change as well as others - i mean, i've had the same haircut since eighth grade, that has to tell you something.
but i sit here, writing this and wondering these things, and at the same time my little man is starting his nightly routine of kicking and punching, feeling his way around on the inside, and i can't help but feel happy, thrilled, maybe even a little peaceful. the world around me is crazy, people i care about are having all sorts of issues and troubles, and every now and then i get to have moments like these - it's just me and baby brodie, it's our private little conversation and i don't have to share him with the world just yet. so maybe it is still all about me for the time being. all about me and him.