Thursday, August 1, 2013

My Next Thirty Years

I love Country music.  I think it was serendipity that I knew a random answer to a question on the radio, landing me two free weekends passes to a Country festival so close to the big 3-0.

I’ve been to some pretty awesome shows.  Garth, George Straight, Brad Paisley, Keith Urban, Dierks Bentley, Paul Brandt, Tim Mcgraw, and I’m about to add another Tim show, Alan Jackson.. etc. because I just can’t get enough of Country music.

Country music would be nothing if not for the stories and lessons in the lyrics.  Unlike other genres, there is no abstract message.  Country music is simply stories, sung.  As someone who fancies herself a story teller, and who loves a good story or two, this really speaks to me.

So, it’s no wonder in my amped up listening of Tim lately, that the song My Next Thirty Years would inspire me to make my own list.  (If you read my blog you also know that I have a thing about lists.)
But first... a photo break:
Kate Middleton took a page out of Shirley's book.  Blue polka dots a day after birth? Check!

While laughing at his giant glasses, I put on my giant sunglasses..

We were pretty adorable.


The family that 80's together....

In my Next Thirty Years


-I will enjoy the last bits of youth I have left in me, I will ride horses and do cartwheels, and do alcohol induced toe touched on trampolines.  But, I will also remember that a youthful spirit never has to cease.  My gramps, for instance, was never too old to drop a jig in the kitchen, or make a snow angel in a stranger’s yard. 

-As I teenager I thought that by 30, I would be well over self-doubt and image consciousness.  Now that I am closer to 30 I realize how funny it is that I thought that serenity and zen obviously came at the ripe old age of 30.  I’m realizing more than anything that this almost amplifies as you hit this mark because you are now a lot more cognisant of your strengths, your abilities, and more than anything, your shortcomings.  There may also be little people in your vicinity that take so much of your time and effort, and then have the gall to remark that, “Your belly is still so big.  Are you sure there isn’t another baby in it?”. ( Just when I thought I was looking pretty good.)  

I’ll finally win this war of attrition… if not for my next thirty years, for my daughter’s.

-I feel like my laughing to crying ratio has been pretty bang on thus far.  I laugh roughly twice for every time I cry.  In the last few years, Mike can attest to the fact that three pregnancies, three infancies, and not a lot of sleep later, I can even laugh into crying which will settle back into laughing again. 

It’s a gift. 

But in my next thirty years, I will waste far less tears on things of which I cannot control.  I will not let little people bring me down to their deplorable level.  I will not waste any more time agonizing about what I said, should have said, could have said, in the presence of these fun suckers.  I will come to the realization that no matter what I do, sometimes people are just mean.  The best life lesson I was ever taught was to be kinder and nicer to the people who despise you the most, because there is nothing, and I mean nothing, they hate more than having no fodder for their hate games.  And, after all, haters gotta hate.

-I will drink less diet coke in my next thirty years.  I only have it once a week or so, but even then, it’s just so bad for you. 

Dido on the indoor tanning.  I have kept strong to my oath to never visit the tanning beds again.  Two words:

 Tanning.  Mom.  (I bet she doesn’t care about diet coke either..) 

I cannot make any promises on red wine.  Or beer.  Probably vodka too. 

-In my next thirty years, I will tell more of the people I love the most, how much they mean to me.  You want to know the worst part of writing and giving Eulogies (I’ve done 4 now..) is that these stories and anecdotes would be so much funnier, and heart-warming if that person was sitting in the room.  I think we sometimes forget that reminiscing is one of life’s greatest joys. 

We do it all the time. 

Over drinks with old friends:

 “Do you remember the time the brakes failed on my car and you convinced me to keep driving because we were on the highway because you said “You don’t really need brakes on the highway anyway. It’s not like in town.”’

Or around the fire with family:

“What about the time we snuck out in Vegas after mom and Dad thought we were in bed. “ 

Everyone smiles.  Everyone gets all warm and fuzzy thinking about a teenage car full of girls and their flawed logic, or three underage children wandering a Vegas hotel.  The point is, I think we don’t give enough credit to how much it means to swap these stories and have a good laugh with the people who we love the most.   

So let’s do that…ok. 

All of us. 

Let’s start filling up Facebook with stories about how funny, and smart, and talented our friends and family are instead of thinly veiled bitch-o-grams about how someone pissed you off or screwed you over. 

-I’ve been a kid, then briefly an adult, then suddenly raising kids in my first 30 years.  There are things I dreamt of doing that I realized I would have to rearrange on behalf of being young parents.  I’m not even 30, with three kids, (TOTALLY DONE  in that department) and am so stoked to have the rest of my life ahead of me to do these things.  We have a whole lot of parenting left to do, but when we get the chance, in my next thirty years.. well:

 The Louvre, a glass of wine in the south of France, the Tuscan sun, Florence’s renaissance art, Pamplona (to watch, not run), the ruins in Athens, a pub in Dublin, the Towers of London, and of course the Sphinx, if they’d ever calm the f down over there.

-I’m almost thirty.. Half of thirty is 15. That’s how long a certain somebody has been a part of my life.

 At 30, I’ve already spend half of my life with my husband.   

In my next thirty years, I hope we still nerd out about a great book we are reading, dance like morons every time “Don’t Stop Believing” comes on, disagree about politics, bring home eclectic treasures from all of our travels, care about each other’s happiness even if we are pissing each other off, and genuinely remain best friends. 

Not like, “Oh of course he’s my best friend, he’s my husband” but like, the kind of best friends that can’t wait to tell each other what’s going on, can’t wait to see the other’s reaction to a funny movie, or a surprise gift, who text offside jokes to each other, who accidentally get drunk on a Thursday night alone when they were supposed to be at another friend’s house.   Best friends who still have their own thing going on and respect and take interest in the other’s life. 

Like a good friend once told me about a young and lasting relationship:

“You’ve grown up together like two flowers in a garden.  You’ve woven around each other, but have always remained distinctly individual, and true to your own roots.  The beauty is seeing how you have grown to complement each other.”

In my next thirty years, I look forward to checking out the handsome flower beside me.

-While that quote was about us, the author of the quote’s intelligence and insightfulness brings me to my final point.  In my next thirty years, I will keep people who are kind and fun, and all things bright and sunshiny in my life. 
After all, if you’ve kept the right people, you’ll want those same crazy a-holes around you for the next thirty years.

Happy Birthday to all fellow 80's children who were allowed to sit on a chair in front of a flame with what appears to be no adult supervision. 

Finally, since I could be a little turd, I present .. Reading Little Brittany's Mind:
"I said I wanted a Big Ass cake.. not a Giraffe cake.  Whatever.  Are those gummies!?!?"

"Tell me again how funny I am..."

"Touch my Cabbage Patch Doll and I'll cut you."

"I think I warned you about touching my stuff once already."


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