While a lot of people make the “30 Before 30” list, I never made one. I have a bucket list that I feel is sufficient and don’t need to add yet another To-Do List to my life.
When I was a teenager, I had everything mapped out, and then this funny thing called Life happened. Basically, I wanted the American Dream: A house, a husband, and 2.4 kids (whatever that means). In Junior High, the BFFO and I actually created little books made out of magazine clippings of what our lives would look like by 30. We created floor plans of our dream houses, and then decorated those rooms. We even added pictures of kids playing outside in our perfectly manicured back yards. I think part of the plan was living next door to each other, too. Clearly, all of this worked out perfectly. (I hope you noted the extreme sarcasm dripping from that sentence. If you didn’t, we probably aren’t friends.)
When I turned 26, I had this mini panic attack. I hadn’t accomplished ANYTHING. I started putting pressure on Señor about marriage and kids. Ultimately, this led to our demise (well, it was partially to blame) and we broke up. After about a week Señor realized he couldn’t live without me because I’m so amazing. Well, that only a half truth. I also read a magazine article about not putting so much pressure on yourself about turning 30 and it’s perfectly fine to not be super accomplished. So, that helped some – because what guy wants to date a neurotic mess?
After reading that oh-so-official Glamour article, I lightened up. A little part of me still wanted to be able to be married by 30, but I knew it would be okay if that didn’t happen. As I got a little older every year, I became more okay with it. I met people who had waited to get married, waited to have kids, and it was totally okay. They weren’t social pariahs. They were financially stable. They had traveled. They had acted foolishly. And then, when they were ready to settle down, they did. And, because they had waited, they were happier.
Now here I am on the heels of 30, and I’m so thankful Señor stood his ground and didn’t give in to my neurotic fit of needing to be married ASAP just to appease some social stigma. Instead, we took the time to talk, and both agreed that the most important thing to us is to buy a house. We want something that is ours, which has a yard for Houdini and the kids to run around in, as well as space inside for everyone to retreat to when we don’t want to be near each other. And while this isn’t the most traditional route, and some people may frown upon it, oh well. We know what is best for us. Plus, neither of us can fathom the idea of dropping $20k on a wedding while still living in an apartment.
In the end, when February rolls around and I turn the big 3-0, all I ask is that we’ve started the home buying process. Oh, and for health and happiness and all that good stuff, too.