25

I’m turning 25 tomorrow.
I remember last year as one of my close friends inched towards her 25th birthday, the quiet freak out that took place. I laughed at the time. It really isn’t that old! It still sounds ridiculous. My husband is 34 this year. That’s a little old. My grandmother turned 90 last year. That’s really old.

But I get it now. 25 is kind of old.

25 is mid-twenties. You are most definitely a real actual adult when you are 25. You’re not in the “youth” category anymore. Which isn’t entirely a bad thing, since that starts at the age of 10.

But then what are you? What does this mean?

Will I suddenly start obsessing over fiber and talk about pooping all day long? Is tomorrow the day I sprout a moustache? Will every sentence begin with “back in the day”? Will there be a random gang of youth frolicking about on my lawn for me to yell at?

I guess this year is the first time I feel really, very adult-ish. This is coming up to our third year of marriage. We have two kids, and another on the way. And we now have a mortgage. Really, I probably should have felt a lot like an adult for awhile.

I’ve decided to take on a little more direction this super-adulty year. We’re finally putting down roots for the first time, and in a charming little country town too. I have so many ideas and projects I want to explore.

Starting with my new blog, Being Wifekins.

“Wifekins” is my husband’s pet name for me. Ridiculous, isn’t it? Regardless, it’s stuck. Being Wifekins is about the honour and horror of being a stay at home mum and housewife; aiming to live a simple, creative and intentional life.

Stay tuned – I’ll give you a moustache update tomorrow.

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