I'm 29...really.

My 29th birthday was December 21st. Honestly, I feel about 25 or 26. My body has been neglected in the past 7 years due to my great desire to have children. I know some people can do it, but I can't. Jesus, I can't. Rather, I just look at it all and think, "fuck it." Then I go about just trying to maintian as minimal a mess as I can.

Compared to other people I probably do a lot during the course of a day. Being a mom who stays home with her kids is much trickier than it sounds. There is ALWAYS something to do. There is NEVER enough time. And if by dumb luck you find 15 minutes of free time, you don't want to do anything but sit. Or sleep. Or watch HGTV. Anything but what you do all day during your non-free time.

So back to my age. I really could care less how old I am. It's all how you feel and how you live. I've learned so much, there is no way I would go back to who I was when I was younger. And just like everyone ever told me, I do understand now that I'm older. And I watch my twin 16-year-old babysitters much like I guess people use to watch me. I smile on the outside, shake my head on the inside and think to myself, "you'll understand when you're older."

What will I learn in the next 29 years? And will I look back to this time and laugh at how I thought I knew everything? At some point life has to switch from a textbook to a storybook, and I really hope mine is a good one. I hope people love to tell it and everyone laughs when they hear it.

I'm not old. I never will be. I just hope my body can keep up.