When Mom Was My Age
As you can guess from my 30 Before 30 series, I turn 30 in two months and three days.
When Mom was my age, she was giving birth to me. She also had a three-year-old son, who was with her parents in Daytona during the tumultuous delivery. She’d recently celebrated her seventh wedding anniversary with her college sweetheart. She was a few years into her teaching career, after needing to pivot from a criminal defense role in South Florida.
When Mom was my age, she was juggling being a wife, mom, educator, homeowner, and a million other adjectives I haven’t experienced yet. She was sacrificing some dreams and goals for those achievements, never once blaming or resenting us for the path she pursued.
When Mom was my age, she had no idea how harrowing this birth would be. She had no idea her husband would suffer a stroke in eight years, changing her marriage and parenting plan overnight. She had no idea what we’d become or pursue or achieve; she just did her damnedest to ensure we were brought up with strong morals and guidance.
When Mom was my age, she was on the cusp of 30 — maybe pursuing her own List of sorts before the milestone birthday arrived. She’d likely been to 10 concerts (now guess which one was fake) 😤 She’d experienced a lot, but still had so much more to come.
Although Mother’s Day is two weeks away, I couldn’t let today — the exact age she was when I was born — pass without acknowledging how grateful I am for everything she did for me then and has continued to do ever since. 143 always, Momma.
WO: Weekly Obsessions
The end of each year becomes a time of reflection, reevaluation and sometimes, redemption.
I’m happy with what 2015 brought in many ways: a new relationship, rekindled friendships, new destinations, career development and more.
But I’m excited for what 2016 could bring — and that promise of the unknown is one of the few times my Type A tendencies subside into excitement for the unplanned.
I hope you’re each facing the New Year with hope in your hearts. If there’s anything this year has taught me, it’s that we could all use a little more peace and understanding.
Wishing you and yours a very safe and happy New Year’s Eve, and a prosperous 2016!
Cheers,
Wittyburg
WO: Weekly Obsessions
As the final hours of 2014 tick by, it’s only natural that we reflect on what the year has personally meant to us all. Our social-media feeds are flooded with Year In Review recaps, engagement announcements, pregnancy proclamations and countless other reasons to celebrate. But we’d be remiss if we didn’t also think of sad events from the past 365 days: deaths, disasters, tragedies and the like.
Each year brings a roller coaster of emotions, and 2014 was no different for me (or anyone else). From moving to a new dream city and seeing my niece develop into a toddling tyke to losing my grandpa and experiencing the final firsts without my dad, the tears have been both happy and sad.
My wish for each of you as the countdown begins tonight is that you hold your loved ones a little tighter. Laugh harder. Cry more often. Find inspiration. Celebrate something every single day. Live this life as big as you can, because we don’t know how many more countdowns we’ll be granted.
Cheers to what 2015 will bring — and remember, you don’t need to wait until January 1 to start living the life you want.
Reflections*
*Because it sounds better than “Ramblings” and “Deep Thoughts” is already taken.
Fastest way to make your head explode? Read customer reviews for a quesadilla maker. The spelling errors alone are incredible.
Best part of my job: Online shopping counts as “research.”
Worst part of my job: I have an online shopping addiction.
My youngest cousin is in NYC for a school trip, one I took eight years ago. Hang out with 30 teenagers if you ever want to feel old and poor.
It snowed Saturday night, and a little piece of me died inside.
Wittyburg.com 