Dirty Thirty

I’ve been ruminating on what turning 30 means to me, not because I fear or dread it, but I do seem disconnected from it. It doesn’t resonate with me, I don’t feel like it represents me, but I’m not sure why. Maybe I have a warped definition of what being 30 is, although, superficially I do match up to those parameters. I’m my (super old fashioned) mind a typical 30 year old has a few kids, maybe a job or a career, spends lots of time ferrying said kids between activities and school and friends, spends waaaay too much time on the mundane tasks of daily life and too little time on the fun indulgences. 30 means clothes that don’t quite fit the same way anymore and are perhaps a little behind the times (read: mom jeans). All of these things are a part of my daily grind, yet somehow it doesn’t feel like me. Maybe the disconnect is that that conjures an image of a faded Polaroid of a woman with feathered hair and jeans up to her rib cage with a kid in each hip and one around her ankle. Maybe the disconnect is that there is so much more to me then those superficial definitions allow for. Perhaps it’s time that I bring my definition of 30 into the 21st century! With that in mind, here’s an idea of what my redefined definition of 30 is in my world.