turning thirty is like...

Yesterday, I turned thirty. The big three-oh.

Here is what my dear friend's students had to tell me about turning thirty. {Disclaimer from Megan before she read these to me: I taught this lesson on metaphors and similes really fast and it may or may not have made sense to them. Mostly it did not. But this teacher heart loves them anyway.}

'Turning 30 is like get[ting] married to a cool boy.' 

'Turning thirty is cool as ice because your middle aged freedom begins!' {Hold up. MIDDLE AGED?!? And I would love to know of this freedom of which this child speaks...}

'Turning 30 is like having a new life. It makes you look older. And you are more into makeup and jewelry.' {Please, please let that last part be true for my husband's sake.}

There was also one that said turning thirty was like 'minecraft with flying and stuff.' But I have no clue what that is. I must be really old. Like thirty or something. 

But now that I  have actually turned thirty what is it really like? 

Turning thirty is like flicking the lights on in a mountain cabin only to be greeted by a whisper-yelled 'Suprise!' from both sides of the family plus some of your closest friends. One of which you hadn't seen in a year. Tears. 

Turning thirty is like cool mountain breezes, coffee on the porch, and babies running wild in socks (a novelty they did not remember from last winter).

Turning thirty is like watching women who stood with you at your wedding love on your babies in a way only best friends can. 

Turning thirty is like having cake and ice cream and then hot chocolate. With whipped cream. Because you're thirty and who cares about cellulite. It's almost expected now, right? {And, in the spirit of full disclosure, I've had cellulite since I was like 18 months old so who cares, yeah?} And just pass the candy corn this way, too, why don't ya. 

Turning thirty is like you're supposed to be having this midlife crisis but you're not. Because you're surrounded by friends and family and you've lived tons, traveled lots, loved more, and plan on doing even more of all of that. 

Turning thirty is like staying up too late talking. And then staying up too late the next night watching Newsies. Seize the day. 

Turning thirty is like chasing bubbles on a porch. Or at least trying to. {Something was up with our bubble mixture.}

Turning thirty is like eating way too many pancakes and then walking it off a bit. Or just making someone else do all the walking. 

Turning thirty is like you know you're thirty but really it doesn't feel any different than 29 or 28. People say thirty is the new 25 anyway (which I will forever be in my head for some reason?) and it's like minecraft (?!?). So, therefore, thirty is completely rad.  Obviously. 

Turning thirty is like balloons and wooden bear carvings. Awesome. 

Turning thirty is like having two sweet baby girls and another on the way. Content in a way you never knew possible. 

But, mostly, turning thirty is like getting married to a cool boy. Who plans an amazing weekend for you.