I Was Thirty, Then I Blinked

Christmas Eve is tomorrow.
Which feels impossible, considering Thanksgiving happened about ten minutes ago and Valentine’s Day items are already out, quietly reminding me that I’ll be 45 in less than two months. Rude.

It’s crunch time. Christmas Day is two days away, and we’ve just passed the winter solstice. The shortest day of the year. Which feels symbolic. All I want right now is simpler. Less noise. Less deciding. Less explaining. This past weekend actually delivered that, which feels suspicious but welcome.

Nick asked what I wanted to do, and I said: knit, watch holiday rom-coms, drink tea and coffee, not talk about our children, and not think or make decisions. A radical ask, I know. I finished knitting my first real, adult-sized blanket. It’s not perfect, but it’s good and it’s mine. Much like this season of life.

I checked my blog stats tonight and they’ve dipped a bit. Totally expected. Everyone is busy surviving December, pretending they’re fine, and buying batteries at the last minute. I briefly considered taking this week off, but I decided to show up anyway. Quiet consistency still counts, even when no one’s clapping.

I took a small break from social media and paused my photo-a-day project. Between household illnesses, Thanksgiving, and fighting a weeks-long sinus infection that required antibiotics and—ew—steroids again, my body politely asked me to sit down. I’m finally starting to feel back on track and plan to pick the daily photos back up in the New Year, which is coming whether we’re emotionally prepared or not.

My sister isn’t doing well, and times like this make me wish I lived closer. We sent her a care package filled with the things I use in my own home to help soothe and heal the people I love. Fingers crossed she’s feeling better by Christmas. Long-distance worrying is exhausting.

Last week’s post was a bit heavy. That happens sometimes. I don’t need to be everyone’s cup of tea. I just want to be real and honest. To say the things people think but don’t always say out loud. Or at least say them so you feel less weird for thinking them too.

Tonight we watched the Steelers miss a field goal off the pole, and I think I’ve officially realized I want to move to Pittsburgh someday when the opportunity presents itself. Trauma bonding through sports really builds character. How’s everyone else doing? Ready for Christmas or just…present?

I’m surprisingly not stressing too much this year, even though there’s a big, lingering work situation hovering over our heads with Nick. There’s worry, sure. But also perspective. I’m deeply grateful for the home he’s provided and for the life I’ve been able to live over the last three years with our toddler, our adult daughters, and our teenage girls. I’m grateful to be present for the moments I’m needed most. And I’m honored that people keep coming back to read what I’m building here. That still amazes me.

Nick is off today. It’s Tuesday, so I slept in a smidge (never past 7:30 a.m., because motherhood does not believe in sleeping in.) I woke up to the fire siren from the local fire department blaring, which somehow transferred into my dream where Nick and I were laughing about the fact that his ex is probably pregnant again.

According to ChatGPT, that means unresolved conflict. Yes. Thank you. We are aware.

Reality woke me up mid-laugh, and honestly? I was grateful.

I was on my way to the bathroom when it hit me: It’s writing day. Normally I have something started, something outlined, something pretending to be organized. But the holidays have scrambled my brain. While doing dishes, an image popped into my head—the way they always do this time of year, when one year is closing and another is looming like, “Hey. Let’s talk.”

It’s a photo from 2011. Me and two of my closest friends. I talk to one regularly. The other, not so much—and not for any dramatic reason, just life doing its thing. I had just turned thirty. None of us knew that within a year or two, all three of us would be divorced and rebuilding our lives from the ground up.

I think I looked my best then. Confident. Certain I was “back to myself” after living a lot of life early on and believing I’d already had my last child. Zumba was doing us real favors back then. Stretchy pants and optimism were abundant.

Funny how life plays out.

Sometimes we think we want to change the past—until we realize that changing it might erase the good that came from the hard. My Old Ass is such a good movie. An eighteen-year-old meets her thirty-nine-year-old self, who warns her to stay away from a guy named Chad. In the end, she realizes she’d rather have loved and lost than never loved at all. Honestly? Same.

That’s the thing about chaos—there’s almost always something good hiding in it, even if it shows up late and unannounced.

Accepting that Finn is eating the black tray of his crate and will absolutely destroy the carpet if we leave it out? That does not happen for a reason. That’s just puppy audacity and poor financial planning.

There are cookies to bake and handmade gifts to finish today. The holidays feel different this year. Evelyn keeps aggressively petting our “loaf” of white bread, Sally, saying, “She’s awake now! See? She wants to play again!”

And honestly—isn’t that life? Those quiet moments of rest, interrupted by something yelling, Okay! Enough! Time to engage!

Lately I’ve been leaning into small grounding habits. Nothing dramatic—just the things that help my nervous system settle. I keep a lavender calming jar for Evelyn, and I still sometimes dab a little lavender essential oil I use oil on my wrist and breathe it in when my thoughts start racing. It doesn’t fix everything, but it helps me soften long enough for my body to catch up with my brain. Which feels like a win.

This week especially, I’ve been thinking about going back to work and bringing in some income to help move us toward where we want to be in the next three years. I want to travel. I love writing and taking pictures. Some things we thought were solid have shifted, and now we’re reassessing. It’s the toddler aggressively loving us awake…again, but with a planner this time.

There weren’t many laugh-out-loud moments this week, but I still believe the universe has a way of placing people where they’re needed. Yesterday, after a dentist appointment, I had a couple of hours to myself. I ran into friends at both thrift stores I frequent and had really good conversations. Compliments on my hair, even while I felt like a hot mess and was still adjusting my bite after a filling.

That stuck with me.

Sometimes filling a worn-down space causes discomfort at first. But with a little time, and maybe some ibuprofen, the adjustment settles. Eventually, everything works together again.

Those women in that photo were younger. Beautiful. On the brink of uncomfortable change. And here we are almost fifteen years later older, wiser, still stunning having lived through loss, growth, and rebuilding.

I was thirty.
Then I blinked.
And I’m still here.