On Monday, I will turn 25. I think this is the first birthday where I've felt a little bummed about getting older. To me, 25 marks when you're really not a kid anymore. And yes, this means a magical drop in my car rental and insurance rates, but is that really worth the fact that I'll likely never be better-looking than I am at this point in my life? And the fact that it's no longer an appropriate age to have still not committed to any sort of semblance of a life plan?
My parents had college degrees and three kids at 25. My dad was working for the same institution he does now. Their life was pretty much set. I know it's a grass-is-greener thing and people tied to careers and families and mortgages envy the freedom of people like me, but I definitely envy the stability of people who've figured out where they want to be and are putting down roots. And the sense of fulfillment that I imagine comes with working towards something.
Growing up, I always figured I'd do the stereotypical Mormon housewife thing when I was older. It's worked for a lot of women that I admire, but turns out it's not my thing. I didn't admit it to myself at the time, but I definitely lived the sad cliche of going to BYU to get married. That's how you fail out like I did, kids.
So I got married and realized having babies sounds exhausting and expensive and is such a tremendous commitment and here we are. I never really knew what I wanted to be when I grow up. So I'll just grow up and be nothing and then die.
Not that being nothing is all that bad, I suppose. I have a job that I'm okay at and allows us to live comfortably enough. We have a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs and clothes on our backs and still can go out and do fun things on a regular basis. It'd be nice to have a car again and maybe nice to own a house and/or have children and/or go back to school someday, but I'm still young enough to worry about those things later, right? I'm still a kid until at least 26, yes?