Being Wifekins

It’s a Dinosaur Birthday Party

Oh hi there, Monday. You’re sneaky aren’t you?
Say hello to Monday, friends.
Yes, I hear you grumbling. Nobody likes Monday.

The weekend is over, and what a weekend it was. I turned 26. Which, apparently, is when you start to freak out about getting old. I think that ship sailed for me last year at 25 – a couple of kids, a mortgage and a husband. WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!

What’s the deal with birthdays as you get older, anyway? When you’re a kid they’re magical and exciting. Then when you’re a teenager you get sleepovers and, eventually, a little booze. And then you’re a young adult and it’s all cute stuff and cake and wine and sleep. And then you have kids and all of a sudden it’s not your birthday, it’s three other people’s birthday.

Me, looking super excited about cake.

In my defence though, this was my second cake.

Sarcasm aside, I did actually have a lovely day. I was super spoiled and I’m super thankful with the incredible blessing of my family. They really are the best.

I spent a little time on Saturday pondering my feelings on turning twenty-six. I can remember back in the glorious days of high school (which were certainly not glorious) my best friend and I had a little discussion about what we thought was the best age to settle down. You know, marriage and kids and all that jazz. I had dreams of travel and a career – a journalist or a social worker. At the wonderfully naive age of sixteen you still believe you have a chance to plan your life to perfection. Twenty-six, we decided, was the age most ideal to get married and start a family. Old enough to have experienced the world a little, but not too old to be…well, old.

And here I am, twenty-six.

I had my first child at age nineteen. I married Benji three and a half years ago when I was twenty-two. We’ve had another two children since then. I don’t have a career (and to be honest, I’m not sure I want one!) and the furtherest I’ve traveled since high school is Perth.

Those are all stories for another day. But my goodness, how much does life change in ten years?! Ten marvelous, unplanned, unexpected years. I can’t imagine what I’d be missing now if I had somehow managed to follow through on my “ideal” plans. What blessings have been thrown my way, to “ruin” everything!

The worst part is, I don’t think I’ve actually learned from this yet. I like to plan and I worry about failing. What is failing anyway? By my own standards, I’ve failed at being an ideal grown up. And I couldn’t be happier!


So here’s to twenty-six: shattering expectations and making it up as I go.
I actually think sixteen year old me would be proud.


{the title – Wiggles reference anyone? Buller? Oh never mind.}


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