proud mom? 

that-annoying-girl-with-all-the-pictures-that can’t-stop-bragging-on-her-kid?

writer?


You may not know this, but I recently celebrated a landmark birthday.

Thirty. 3-0. Yes, I am now in my thirties. As in no longer in my young, stupid, and accident-prone twenties. For the last five years, when asked my age, I have said without even a hint of hesitation, “almost thirty.”

I just knew there was something about thirty. You’re taken more seriously in professional arenas. You’re more confident in who you are, not spending so much time and energy being consumed with being who you think others want you to be, but instead focusing all that energy on just being you.

Now that I find myself actually bearing this magical age, I have found myself pondering the age old question:

What do I want be when I grow up? 

I know with certainty some of the careers or professions that have been unequivocally ruled out, like teaching. If you think I’m bluffing, reading this post or this post will help you know your kids deserve better. Much better. 
There have also been brief professional stints that have provided great clarity as to my inability to be successful in certain fields. Like my internship in sports marketing. I can’t figure out what went wrong there–I have no interest in sports, I find people who sweat repulsive, and was attempting to market a team headlong in financial crisis. 
Or, the time I was managing the day to day banking and HR for Hobby Lobby. Yes, this job did involve math. More addition that I could manage on my fingers and toes, which meant it easily could have been disastrous. Not only was the math a major issue in this position, but seeing HR issues in black in white was a challenge for a person who views life in shades of gray. Couple that with concepts like 401K investing, profit sharing, Health Insurance Enrollment, not good. I’m pretty sure there are still people in central Indiana wondering where their money has been going each pay period. 
Sadly, there are more. But, I will spare you the gruesome details. (Like lifeguard, GAP worker, reading mentor, door-to-door salesperson.)
As Griffin and I have talked about what the future holds, I’m not totally sure. But with the prompting of those who (claim to) love me, I’m thinking about beginning to work on writing a book. 
Yes, I said it. Writing a book. It makes it even scarier to put that out to the world–but it seems saying it out loud for the world to hear makes it a little bit more real. 
So, we’ll see. This may fall into the category of jobs I do not want to repeat in a short week’s time. I’ll keep you posted.