First, let's stop. 30 years old. When did this happen?! To be frank, I don't feel thirty. Well; okay, I
feel 30, the 43 grey hairs I found on my head as well as my post postpartum breasts are definitely 30...but 30 is not really old, is it?
I mean, I just got out of my twenties, I can still hang with the young people. The maturity level that appears to partner with the number 30? I don't feel that...it's just an act I have put on, to ya know, pay bills and keep a job. At the age of 30, I am married. My husband and I also have a baby girl, Maelyn. She is 19 months old and motherhood is absolutely insane. Each day goes by faster than the last, and through it all I seem to lose track of where I am on this timeline of life.
I am zapped back to reality on special days like today, when I actually had the chance to venture out alone, beyond the grocery store.Today's task was to get an "engineered" print. I read on Pinterest this was the extra savvy & cheap strategy to produce large prints. I was totally stoked about actually following through with a Pinterest-craft I pinned, like 11 months ago. I even pulled up the actual pin to double check the instructions I found on a crafty mom's (whose husband is probably a brain surgeon) blog page. I was praising myself as I stepped out of the car.
On my way to Staples, a store called Rue 21 (whatever that means) grabbed my attention with their buy 1, get 1 50% off sale. I thought to myself, "Why not? I never have the opportunity to shop alone anymore," and I walked in without hesitation.
Immediately, blaring music that reminded of Spring Break 2001 filled my shopping space and before I could get my grounding, a young hip-looking store clerk hit me up for some cheap perfume,
"Have you ever tried our fragrances?" he asked. Only waiting long enough for me to return with the most obvious response, "no." I thought to myself, "How dare he interrupt my shopping experience, do these kids work on commission?!" I started to feel weird... had this 18 year old hit on me ? Than I realized, no that wasn't weird...I'm just in a public place besides the dairy isle. He finished is sales pitch by responding,
"It's called, Mystic Rain,"
"Thanks." I said...in the most believable tone possible. In order to really sale myself, I took a whif of the paper stick as I walked away, to ensure him I was totally impressed, gag.
I quickly prayed the store clerk had no idea I was married and had a kid. My, God! What would he think of me if he knew I was 30 years old and shopping in this place?! What the hell am I DOING here? I should be at a boutique somewhere so I can have a dressing room with ruffled curtains and complimentary espresso... Who cares, I am wearing skinny jeans, I can pass for 22.....I can get away with purchasing a $2 tank top, right?
I quickly spotted a pile of tank tops that were buy 1, get 1 50% off. I grabbed a couple that seemed pleasant and made my way to the checkout feeling better about torturing myself through the terrible music, prepubescent-inspired cologne, and the neon graffiti that was piercing my eyes. I was getting 2 shirts for $3, that's a deal! As I neared the checkout, I started to have mixed feelings about the rap song playing over head that encouraged the "ladies to raise their hands if they were going to spend the night," but I stayed focus on the goal, get to the checkout counter before anyone finds you here. A tall lanky white kid with nerdy glasses (which are apparently in these days) checked me out. The total came to $10.59. I was devastated. What the hell?! I responded like most adults and asked,
"Is that the right price? I thought they were $2 each? Buy 1, get 1 50% off?" He looked at me like I was 30 years old and said,
"Actually, they are buy 1, get 1 for $2.00...it's like... $5/shirt, that's still a great deal."
The secret was out...all of the sales associates knew I did not belong. 'Who is this cheap old lady?" They were all asking themselves. "How did I just get ripped off by this hipster kid?" I was asking myself.
I quickly agreed with his nonsense, swiped my card and walked out with my bright pink chevron & striped tank @ $5/each, what a rip off.
What the sales associates did not understand was that each of these shirts would have smashed peas on them by the end of the week, and the price of these 2 tank tops were not worth the 10 minutes of sound pollution I incurred by listening to lyrics of a song about a girl who hasn't received a text from her ex-boyfriend in response to her text she sent him informing him she was in-love with her new boyfriend.
Holy hell, what a dilemma.
I finally made it to Staples, the desired location. A costumer with grey hair & a suite stood next to me in line and the female sales associate that greeted me had no make up, a mustache, and side burns that she could comb. Ahhh, my kind of place, I could finally breathe.
I proudly announced to her that I would like an engineered print, she got to work on my request and within 2 minutes I was presented with my pictures. A plain, 8 X 11 piece of white paper, copied with the picture I had provided her. I looked over the pictures and thought to myself, "What kind of engineered copy is this?"
As Ire-established the definiation of an "engineered" prints I realized why the blog suggested this grand idea for enormous pictures....not an 8 X 10. Hell, I could have printed this shit at home in my yoga pants.
My total came to a bank-breaking $0.21 cents and I left feeling defeated, the entire trip was a waste.
I have always been so sure of myself, my age, and my role at different points in my life. I usually feel cool, I am still cool, right? These 35 minutes left me feeling conquered by hipsters & underlying information that I missed due to my discord with the now-a-day generation. Motherhood & this new sense of maturity I had never really felt had left me feeling alienated from this outside world I once knew...what had happened to up-to-the-minute Ali?
I came home and started mapping things out, I needed a proposed plan of action. Next time, when life allows for a retreat, I will stay in my yoga pants, shop online, and pour myself a pint of good beer...
About 10 minutes into this proposed solitary brainstorming, the sound of Maelyn waking up interrupts any agenda I had planned, all my tasks come to a halt as I meet her sweet, squishy face. As I kiss her pillow lips, hold her warm little body with my face buried in her neck, my mind wanders and I forget everything on my devised, "become hip again" program. It all begins to dissipate, like it was never there, and time is suspended. Nothing goes as planned, ever, for the rest of the day....and as each day passes, I realize this
is the rest of my life. A metamorphosis had occurred within me.
Each day that passes, my brain becomes a little more stretched and I become a little dorkier, slowly giving up on the expectations that I once had. I start realizing what age I
think I am, the age I
really am, and
who I am doesn't really matter, all that matters is this very moment.
I click on the shopping cart icon and proceed to check-out, I just bought my first tankini while sitting in my PJs at 2:30pm. I'm going to wear it when the 3 of us go to the beach; alone with just our little family, a pair of squishy baby cheeks, my good-looking 36 year-old husband, and my new-found outtie belly button.
Who knew the first chevron-pattern item of clothing I have EVER purchased would have brought this to light? As long as we can keep the rap music down a notch, I can still be cool.
I believe every kid faces different struggles, anxieties & challenges they must face; whether they overcome their obstacle, or are faced with defeat and must uncover the special path meant for them; for each of these journeys, a kid has an opportunity to learn a valuable lesson, or even be lucky enough to experience self-actualization! No matter what the circumstance, there comes a time when a kid will ask themselves, "Am I good enough?"
There are no secrets to encouragement. Just truth....and the truth will set you free, or it will totally rat you out. Kids are way more keen than adults because they can sense if someone is genuine right from the get-go. Kids aren't afraid to call it how they see it. As you see, this blog does not have a special "theory" for adults because in my opinion, you're pretty much baked once you're an adult. The cake is finished cooking, you're either really deliciously amazing or you taste like poop, not special cream cheese icing can fix poop. I can speculate that the end result all depends on how many people told you how incredibly awesome you were as a child.
Although my childhood wasn't picture-perfect, my parents did their best to let me know I was a pretty cool kid. I was also lucky enough to have some pretty amazing coaches, siblings, friends & mentors. I am lucky enough, that some of these folks still pick up the phone, listen to me talk, interrupt them, and repeat ;). (You know who you are) I am blessed to have these amazing souls to thank for being apart of my journey; for where I am today, and where I may be tomorrow. 
