There is no possible way I could have predicted where my life would be at 28: married to a wonderful man who challenges and loves me in all the right ways, mother to a little boy who makes me smile while giving me plenty of good parenting stories, well on my way to popping out another Diego pumpkinhead, homeowner of a space that allows our family to grow comfortably, and all with the luxury of being the master of my daily routine. (Well, as much as August lets me control the routine.)
None of this, though, is what I'd pictured at 18, or even 24. JP and I don't have a written timeline of what we want to do at each year of our lives; in fact, we could probably do a much better job of managing our lives and calendars. If anything, we feel a little ahead of ourselves in terms of what we want out of life: a welcoming home, a budding family, healthy bodies. Is it too much good? Should we be doing more with our time? Why aren't we traveling more, spending our weekends DIY'ing our unfinished basement, entertaining at home, taking August to multiple classes each week?
At one point last night, I was so wrapped up in telling JP the many things I thought, at 20, I would want at 28, and stopped myself. How amazing to be ahead of schedule in our own life timeline. How wonderful to be expecting a little sibling for August, and not be intimidated (much) that we're only the 2nd or 3rd of our friends to have a second child. What a luxury to have time working on our side whether we realized it or not.
28 somehow feels like a very settled, grown-up age, and I feel very rooted in my own life. Lately there have been emotional upheavals (thanks, pregnancy hormones!), and I feel so grateful that my personal anchors are strongly set in my family and friends. I'm not exactly sure where I'll be next year, in the existential sense, but I feel like every year gets me closer to who I want to be.