Ten years of adult hood.
My husband feels genuinely sick every time I mention how old we are. 30 seems awfully close these days. And 30 feels like a grown up age. When you are a real adult who should have your shit together and know what you are doing with your life.
Time seems to run away with you as soon as you get over the age of about 23 and settle down a bit.
I mean, I’m 28, married with a four year old and another on the way.
I always wanted this life. I wanted to be married and have my family set up before I was 30. My own mum was in her early 20s when she had me so I wanted to emulate that.
I’ve been super lucky, that’s for sure. In meeting my husband and managing to convince him it was a good idea to settle down with me so quickly!
We’ve moved county – from Derbyshire/Leicestershire to Shropshire and have this year sent our first born off to school.
It feels like utter madness.
I say this as I sit here typing and feeling our second daughter kicking away in my tummy. It’s surreal.
I have regrets – who doesn’t? But then again without those regrets I wouldn’t be where I am right now. And right now I am quite simply the happiest and most content I have ever been in my life.
Life is simple. Life isn’t dramatic or stressful. I have a nice house, a gorgeous family and lovely friends. All of which seemed out of reach to 18 year old me, ten years ago.
I’m studying with the Open University, now 3 years in to a 6 year part time degree. I’m not particularly enjoying it if truth be told but I know it is good for me and it might open up a few doors for me career wise once I have this second baby off to nursery in a few years.
I dont really know what the point of this post is other than it being a bit of a Dear Diary style, reflective one. It seemed apt to give a little nod to my 28th birthday.
So Happy Birthday to me!