30?!?

Here comes my honest-to-goodness confession.  I'm turning 30 soon (like counting-down-the-hours-soon), I don't know how to feel about that.  It just still seems weird.  I'm pretty comfortable being in my twenties, and there's a new level of social expectations that I have to assume once that number is attached to my name.  And there's another reason why it makes me a little apprehensive, but that is going to be another post for another day.  Probably January 9th (assuming naps happen and I have a moment to write).

But then again, I'm pretty much made to be in my thirties.  We have certain expectations about behavior for people in their thirties--wanting to be committed, wanting to stay at home, wanting a family, settling down.  I'm all over all of that.  I wasn't a social butterfly in high school or college or my twenties, and I'm certainly not wanting to change that now.  I just really like being warm and snuggly at home rather than cold and pretend somewhere else.  And of course, this isn't to say that I never do anything, but, seriously...that's my preference.  I also dislike the babysitting coordination.  Kids provide me a lovely excuse to not try.  That also sounds like another post for another day. 

Writing of kids...love them.  Audrey is amazing.  She helps me tolerate the snarky three-year old.  Her gummy smiles are ear-to-ear and 100% honest.  I was watching her interact with Abby yesterday and I realized that one of my absolute favorite things about young people are their transparent expressions.  There's no guile at her age.  When she smiles at you, she means it.  But then again, when she pokes out her little bottom lip and starts the tears, she means it as well.  Why do we stress about knowing what a baby means?  Often, they are so easy.  

As we have been shifting the house around for decorating and then re-shifting it back, I'm packing things up with a specific purpose now: packing away certain baby things.  And I'm never going to (have to) use them again.  I am thrilled.  Finally, something in my life is certain.  It doesn't matter where we live, what my job is, whether Abby goes to this school or that, whether I'm done with grad school or not...it doesn't matter.  We're done producing Cox babies, and we couldn't be more certain.  Even better, I feel even more joyful about each individual stage of Audrey's development during this time that can be stressful.  Her first few months were not long & arduous simply because there seemed to be a recurring chant in her wailing--the last time! the last time! the last time!  Now, I'm no longer storing a baby tub, a Bumbo, and a baby swing.  My house will slowly revert to being our house rather than a storage unit for the time when or if we would have another baby.  It's a glorious feeling for me and deliciously refreshing. 

Now that I'm at the end of what I wanted to write, I realized something: bring on 30; it's already more decided than my twenties ever were.