As promised in the first entry of this blog, here is the single's guide to addressing one of life's little annoyances.
One of the most annoying things I know about being single is the inability to be in two places at the same time. So when it comes time to do a little home decorating, there's no one to hand me tools or stand back and tell me if a picture is crooked. And who's got time to wait for someone to come over and help? Therefore, I've contrived--and successfully used--the following method.
Before we begin, I am sure there are much more technically accurate ways to do this. They probably involve fancy tools such as stud finders. (But, hey, if those worked, I wouldn't be hanging pictures alone! *insert rimshot here*) However, this method requires only items that can be easily found in most homes.
Gather the following tools:
a tall piece of furniture
several hardback books
nails
hammer
pencil
eraser
optional: level or level app on smartphone
digital camera or camera app on cell phone
cat treats, toys, or cage
1. Put a piece of sturdy furniture (a table, bookcase, dresser, cabinet, etc.) under the spot on the wall you've selected. The taller, the better, but make sure the item is not tall enough to cover your targeted area.
2. Remove cat from top of furniture.
3. Place the picture you are hanging on the top of the furniture.
4. Add stacks of hardback books, using the books to inch the picture up to where you think you'd like it. If you're not the bibliophile I am and don't have hundreds of books at your disposal, you might try DVDs, CDs, board games, soup cans, etc..
5. Step back and visualize the books and furniture gone---try the ol' close-one-eye-and-cover-the-object-with-your-thumb trick. Is the picture where you want it? Adjust the stack as needed.
6. When you've got it where you want it, trace the top and sides of the frame lightly with a pencil.
7. Remove the picture from the stack.
8. Wait 5 seconds.
9. Remove the cat from the stack.
10. Measure the distance from the top and sides of the frame to the place that the nails will catch---the inside edge of the frame, the hooks, etc.
11. Measure that same distance from the pencil lines on the wall, and draw light marks where the nails should go. If the hooks aren't exactly centered, remember to reverse left and right as needed (i.e., you measured seven inches from the left side while looking at the back of the picture; now measure seven inches from the right side while looking at the front of the wall).
12. Pound in your nails on the marks.
13. Test-hang the picture. Step back and check it. Repeat steps 3 through 13 as needed.
14. Once satisfied, erase the pencil marks, and hang your picture for real.
15. Remove the cat from the stack of books, return the books and furniture to their rightful places, and reward self (and cat?) for a job well done.
Additional tips:
---Use a level to make sure picture is hanging correctly. Alternately, use an app on your smartphone (such as Bubble for Android smartphones). Caution: Before using this method, it is best to decide, should things go badly, which object you will save as it falls: the picture or the smartphone. It's the Sophie's Choice of wall hangings.
---If you can't decide between two different positions for the picture, set up each option with the stacks of books, and snap a digital photo. This lets you consider both options quickly and without pausing to reset the books.
---If you find yourself repeating steps 2 and 9 too frequently, distract the cat with kitty treats or a favorite toy. Or temporarily lock him in his traveling cage or carrier. His plaintive cries are really his feline encouragement of your home decorating endeavors.
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Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Spinsters in Film: Bridget Jones's Diary
Today we present the second in a series of featured entries entitled "Spinsters in the Media: Who Gets It Right?"
Though we singletons are frequently portrayed in television, movies, literature and popular media/culture, the portrayal is rarely accurate. Upon occasion, however, we encounter the rare portrayal of singles that has, at the very least, a kernel of truth. Of course, these examples won't speak to everyone. Singles are, by definition, unique, one of a kind. Not every portrayal of singlehood will speak to every singleton. And none of these examples completely capture my own experience with singlehood. But I can relate.
Today's example comes to us from the film Bridget Jones's Diary.
The title character Bridget Jones is the classic single heroine: a thirty-something career woman struggling to find success at work as well as in love. Bridget's world includes her mother who tries to fix her up with available men and offers helpful dating advice ("You'll never get a boyfriend if you look like you wandered out of Auschwitz."), a pack of single friends who have no more answers than Bridget does, and a smattering of relatives and married friends who helpfully pester Bridget about her lack of a love life.
Also, of course, are the potential love interests. Bridget has two: the caddish Daniel Cleaver who just happens to be Bridget's boss, and the prickly and slightly mysterious Mark Darcy.
Throughout the year, Bridget makes tons of mistakes, puts herself into many embarrassing situations, and endears herself to her readers/viewers. We love Bridget in spite of her many mistakes. Or perhaps because of them. She makes us feel better about our own mistakes, for surely none of our lives are as messed up as Bridget's.
There are several moments in Bridget's life that resonate with me, but here are two in particular.
First, the dinner party. Bridget is invited to a dinner party with a crowd of "smug married couples." As soon as Bridget arrives, the helpful pestering begins: "How's your love life?" "You really ought to hurry up . . . time's a-running out. Tick tock." and, finally, "Why is it there are so many unmarried women in their 30s these days, Bridget?"
The entire room goes silent as everyone looks at Bridget, waiting for her answer.
Bridget tries to laugh it off: "I don't know. Suppose it doesn't help that underneath our clothes our entire bodies are covered in scales." No one gets the joke, and conversation awkwardly resumes.
As Bridget demonstrates, singles don't want to analyze why they are single, especially with a crowd of married people at a dinner party. How can that conversation possibly go well?
I once had an older, married neighbor who, on several occasions, asked me if I was married. When I repeatedly told her I wasn't, she always replied, "Oh, but you're so pretty!"
Um....thanks? Sorry?
She seemed to be saying that I must be really messed up in order to still be single in spite of the fact that I wasn't burdened with a third eye or something. Yeah, this isn't something I want to discuss with a random neighbor as I carry my trash down to the dumpster.
In fact, I'd rather not discuss it at all. Come on, world! You don't ask married people why they are married, do you? Or, as Bridget puts it in Fielding's novel, "Why can't married people understand that this is no longer a polite question to ask? We wouldn't rush up to them and roar, 'How's your marriage going? Still having sex?'" It's rude and none of your business. So please don't put singles in the position of defending their singleness.
The second moment in Bridget's life that speaks to me---and the one that makes me cheer her on---is when she decides that she's not going to settle.
When the cad Daniel returns to try to win Bridget back, he tells Bridget, "We belong together, Jones...If I can't make it with you, I can't make it with anyone."
Bridget ponders this for a while, and then tells Daniel, "That's not a good enough offer for me. I'm not willing to gamble my whole life on someone who's, well, not quite sure. It's like you said: I'm still looking for something more extraordinary than that."
Good for you, Miss Jones.
Unwilling to settle for Mr. May-Be-Right in the present, Bridget walks away to wait for Mr. Absolutely Right to arrive some day in the future.
As it turns out, she doesn't have to wait long. Misunderstandings are cleared up, people come to their senses, and soon, Bridget is happily in love with Mr. Mark Darcy. The one who never lied to her, who never tried to change her, and who told her he liked her "just as you are."
Now that's worth waiting for.
----------
Though we singletons are frequently portrayed in television, movies, literature and popular media/culture, the portrayal is rarely accurate. Upon occasion, however, we encounter the rare portrayal of singles that has, at the very least, a kernel of truth. Of course, these examples won't speak to everyone. Singles are, by definition, unique, one of a kind. Not every portrayal of singlehood will speak to every singleton. And none of these examples completely capture my own experience with singlehood. But I can relate.
Today's example comes to us from the film Bridget Jones's Diary.
The title character Bridget Jones is the classic single heroine: a thirty-something career woman struggling to find success at work as well as in love. Bridget's world includes her mother who tries to fix her up with available men and offers helpful dating advice ("You'll never get a boyfriend if you look like you wandered out of Auschwitz."), a pack of single friends who have no more answers than Bridget does, and a smattering of relatives and married friends who helpfully pester Bridget about her lack of a love life.
Also, of course, are the potential love interests. Bridget has two: the caddish Daniel Cleaver who just happens to be Bridget's boss, and the prickly and slightly mysterious Mark Darcy.
By the way, this entry could just as easily have been called "Spinsters in Literature: Bridget Jones's Diary" because of the best-selling novel by Helen Fielding that was the basis for the film. However, the film has one distinct advantage over the book: Colin Firth. A big advantage.
Here is the Academy Award-winning actor as Mark Darcy, gazing at the woman he loves.
He does that so well. For more evidence, see this scene from the BBC's Pride and Prejudice.
Let's see. . . what was I talking about again?
Ah, yes! Bridget Jones. After a disastrous first meeting with Mark, embarrassed Bridget decides to make a change: "That was the moment. I suddenly realized that unless something changed soon, I was going to live a life where my major relationship was with a bottle of wine, and I'd finally die, fat and alone, and be found three weeks later, half-eaten by wild dogs." She launches her diary project, determined to truthfully record her adventures and efforts to take control of her life and find "a sensible boyfriend to go out with."
Throughout the year, Bridget makes tons of mistakes, puts herself into many embarrassing situations, and endears herself to her readers/viewers. We love Bridget in spite of her many mistakes. Or perhaps because of them. She makes us feel better about our own mistakes, for surely none of our lives are as messed up as Bridget's.
There are several moments in Bridget's life that resonate with me, but here are two in particular.
First, the dinner party. Bridget is invited to a dinner party with a crowd of "smug married couples." As soon as Bridget arrives, the helpful pestering begins: "How's your love life?" "You really ought to hurry up . . . time's a-running out. Tick tock." and, finally, "Why is it there are so many unmarried women in their 30s these days, Bridget?"
The entire room goes silent as everyone looks at Bridget, waiting for her answer.
Bridget tries to laugh it off: "I don't know. Suppose it doesn't help that underneath our clothes our entire bodies are covered in scales." No one gets the joke, and conversation awkwardly resumes.
As Bridget demonstrates, singles don't want to analyze why they are single, especially with a crowd of married people at a dinner party. How can that conversation possibly go well?
I once had an older, married neighbor who, on several occasions, asked me if I was married. When I repeatedly told her I wasn't, she always replied, "Oh, but you're so pretty!"
Um....thanks? Sorry?
She seemed to be saying that I must be really messed up in order to still be single in spite of the fact that I wasn't burdened with a third eye or something. Yeah, this isn't something I want to discuss with a random neighbor as I carry my trash down to the dumpster.
In fact, I'd rather not discuss it at all. Come on, world! You don't ask married people why they are married, do you? Or, as Bridget puts it in Fielding's novel, "Why can't married people understand that this is no longer a polite question to ask? We wouldn't rush up to them and roar, 'How's your marriage going? Still having sex?'" It's rude and none of your business. So please don't put singles in the position of defending their singleness.
The second moment in Bridget's life that speaks to me---and the one that makes me cheer her on---is when she decides that she's not going to settle.
When the cad Daniel returns to try to win Bridget back, he tells Bridget, "We belong together, Jones...If I can't make it with you, I can't make it with anyone."
Bridget ponders this for a while, and then tells Daniel, "That's not a good enough offer for me. I'm not willing to gamble my whole life on someone who's, well, not quite sure. It's like you said: I'm still looking for something more extraordinary than that."
Good for you, Miss Jones.
Unwilling to settle for Mr. May-Be-Right in the present, Bridget walks away to wait for Mr. Absolutely Right to arrive some day in the future.
As it turns out, she doesn't have to wait long. Misunderstandings are cleared up, people come to their senses, and soon, Bridget is happily in love with Mr. Mark Darcy. The one who never lied to her, who never tried to change her, and who told her he liked her "just as you are."
Now that's worth waiting for.
----------
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
It's Complicated
Marriage is easy.
Okay, I'm really not that naive. I know partnership between two people is always difficult. Marital challenges include, but are not limited to, raising children, handling finances, sharing household chores, getting along with each other's families, determining if the toilet seat shall remain up or down (apparently a big deal in multi-gendered households).
But "married" is such an easy status to have.
Consider the standard government-issue questionnaire. After asking for your name, birthdate, and Social Security Number, the form presents this question:
What is your current marital status? (Select one.)
Look at how many different ways there are to be "not married."
And while being married is a definitive state---you can't be "very married" or "mostly married"---being single is much more fluid. You can be "mostly single," meaning dating people casually but not in a relationship. And you can be "very single," which means not dating anyone seriously, not dating anyone period, not thinking about dating anyone, not even cognizant of someone in your world worth dating.
Facebook has expanded this common question, adding options such as "in a relationship," "in a domestic partnership," and "in an open relationship" (um...okay). My favorite is the quintessential Facebook relationship status: "It's complicated."
Even with only one set of emotions (and one preferred position of the toilet seat), inside the head and the heart of the single person, it's still complicated.
In my own head and heart, this complication most often arises when someone addresses the issue of my singlehood.
For example, at my younger brother's wedding---the occasion that officially dubbed me "the unmarried one" among my siblings---I was visiting with friends when one teased me, "How many times have you heard, 'You're next!'?" I shot back, "That's one!" and the group laughed and the conversation moved on.
Inside, however, my reaction was a bit more complicated.
That secret inward smile came from my realization that apparently people still thought it was okay to tease me about getting married. That apparently people still thought there was hope!
Maybe my pleasant surprise at this discovery is easier to understand in contrast to a changing trend I'd noticed in the questions I get from my students. Since I started teaching, I've always had students ask about my life, usually phrasing the question as "You're married, right?" They are confident of a positive response and surprised when I answer simply, "Nope. Not yet!" But in my early 30s, I'd noticed a change in the kids' responses. Instead of expressing simple surprise at my "not married" status, the questioner now often added an apology and chagrin. "Oh! Sorry!!" they'd say, as in "so sorry to have brought up such a painful subject!"
With that recent trend, I found the realization that my friends and family still saw marriage in my future as a pleasant discovery.
Still, my reaction to my singleness becoming a topic of conversation remains complicated. When friends try to set me up on blind dates, when family suggest I ask somebody out, when someone makes a reference to my future wedding, I experience a myriad of emotions. By turns, I am . . .
. . . pleased to find that I'm still "in the running" in people's minds.
. . . relieved that it's okay to still hope and to be known to hope.
. . . apprehensive that someone will think it ridiculous that I still hope.
. . . unsure if it's still okay for me to think of myself as a future bride.
. . . afraid that someone will assume I'm desperate to get married because my friends or family often are.
. . . conflicted between admitting that I do long to find "the one" and get married, and the absolute necessity of embracing my life as it is now and living it to the fullest.
Most likely, my emotions will always be complicated, even once I can check that definitive "Married" bubble and have begun participating in the Great Toilet Seat Debate. Even when I'm no longer single, I'll still be a woman. Complicated emotions come with the territory.
----------
Okay, I'm really not that naive. I know partnership between two people is always difficult. Marital challenges include, but are not limited to, raising children, handling finances, sharing household chores, getting along with each other's families, determining if the toilet seat shall remain up or down (apparently a big deal in multi-gendered households).
But "married" is such an easy status to have.
Consider the standard government-issue questionnaire. After asking for your name, birthdate, and Social Security Number, the form presents this question:
What is your current marital status? (Select one.)
Single
Married
Divorced
Separated
Widowed
Look at how many different ways there are to be "not married."
And while being married is a definitive state---you can't be "very married" or "mostly married"---being single is much more fluid. You can be "mostly single," meaning dating people casually but not in a relationship. And you can be "very single," which means not dating anyone seriously, not dating anyone period, not thinking about dating anyone, not even cognizant of someone in your world worth dating.
Facebook has expanded this common question, adding options such as "in a relationship," "in a domestic partnership," and "in an open relationship" (um...okay). My favorite is the quintessential Facebook relationship status: "It's complicated."
Even with only one set of emotions (and one preferred position of the toilet seat), inside the head and the heart of the single person, it's still complicated.
In my own head and heart, this complication most often arises when someone addresses the issue of my singlehood.
For example, at my younger brother's wedding---the occasion that officially dubbed me "the unmarried one" among my siblings---I was visiting with friends when one teased me, "How many times have you heard, 'You're next!'?" I shot back, "That's one!" and the group laughed and the conversation moved on.
Inside, however, my reaction was a bit more complicated.
- Annoyed, at being teased. In general, I hate being teased about anything.
- Embarrassed, that my love life (or lack thereof) was being discussed in public at all.
- Disappointed, because I expected a bit more sensitivity from this friend, a fellow singleton.
- And, secretly, a little bit pleased.
That secret inward smile came from my realization that apparently people still thought it was okay to tease me about getting married. That apparently people still thought there was hope!
Maybe my pleasant surprise at this discovery is easier to understand in contrast to a changing trend I'd noticed in the questions I get from my students. Since I started teaching, I've always had students ask about my life, usually phrasing the question as "You're married, right?" They are confident of a positive response and surprised when I answer simply, "Nope. Not yet!" But in my early 30s, I'd noticed a change in the kids' responses. Instead of expressing simple surprise at my "not married" status, the questioner now often added an apology and chagrin. "Oh! Sorry!!" they'd say, as in "so sorry to have brought up such a painful subject!"
With that recent trend, I found the realization that my friends and family still saw marriage in my future as a pleasant discovery.
Still, my reaction to my singleness becoming a topic of conversation remains complicated. When friends try to set me up on blind dates, when family suggest I ask somebody out, when someone makes a reference to my future wedding, I experience a myriad of emotions. By turns, I am . . .
. . . pleased to find that I'm still "in the running" in people's minds.
. . . relieved that it's okay to still hope and to be known to hope.
. . . apprehensive that someone will think it ridiculous that I still hope.
. . . unsure if it's still okay for me to think of myself as a future bride.
. . . afraid that someone will assume I'm desperate to get married because my friends or family often are.
. . . conflicted between admitting that I do long to find "the one" and get married, and the absolute necessity of embracing my life as it is now and living it to the fullest.
Most likely, my emotions will always be complicated, even once I can check that definitive "Married" bubble and have begun participating in the Great Toilet Seat Debate. Even when I'm no longer single, I'll still be a woman. Complicated emotions come with the territory.
----------
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Milestones
Last week we celebrated my older brother's 40th birthday. The event was marked with the solemnity and dignity befitting such a significant occasion: we played a Star Wars-themed "pin the tail on the donkey" and destroyed a pinata shaped like Darth Vader's head.
It brought to mind an article I read over a decade ago (and which I spent several fruitless hours this week trying to find either in my files or online) about life's milestones. The idea of the article was that, in our lives, there are certain ages by which we thought we would have accomplished something. Sometimes we aren't even aware of these unspoken deadlines, and they are different for every person. Once a milestone has passed without the desired accomplishment being accomplished, we experience dissatisfaction or restlessness at the least or even severe depression at the worst.
Obviously, a key milestone age in nearly everyone's life is the age by which you thought you'd be married. The article stated that most people have a preconceived idea of the "right" age for them to get married, and most people who pass this age unmarried find themselves struggling with some level of depression.
When I read the article years ago, I had not yet passed my marriage milestone age. Most people my age were pairing off and planning weddings, but marriage still seemed like something in the future for me. Moreover, I had only a vague idea of the "right" age for me to get married.
I knew I wanted to finish college and live on my own for a while. I wanted to begin my career before I began a marriage. I was determined not to be one of those girls who went to college for her MRS degree.
For a while when I was 18, I started telling people that I wasn't getting married until I was 30. This came in response to unrelenting teasing I got from adults who thought I should be as boy crazy as my best friend and other girls my age. To get them off my back, I would say I wasn't getting married until I was 30, and "Who wants to date a guy for twelve years, anyway?"
30 was never a serious marriage milestone for me, and by the time it rolled around, I was too busy living life to get too concerned about it. I had accomplished several milestones since I was 18. I finished college in the four years I'd allotted myself, meeting my goal of finishing my English Education degree before my full-ride scholarships ran out. I traveled with our college choir to New York City and sang in Carnegie Hall. I dated a few guys, fell in love for the first time, survived my first broken heart. At 22, I got my first teaching job and moved into my first little rental house. Those first few years of teaching were stinkin' hard and earned me my first grey hair just before my 25th birthday (darn 8th graders!).
The next fall I moved as far across the country as it's possible to go to the exotic coastal town of Bellingham, Washington. Well, exotic to a girl from Nebraska! The Cascade Mountains to the east, the San Juan Islands and the Pacific Ocean to the west, and all visible on my daily bus ride to work. I taught at Western Washington University for two years while earning my Master's degree in English literature. It was a great experience and I made many friends for life, but graduation weekend saw me packing up to move back to the Midwest, to family, and to the sun. (Contrary to popular belief, it does NOT rain constantly in Washington. The grey skies, however, are pretty constant.)
At 27 years old, I returned to high school teaching and really started to become the teacher I was meant to be. As I felt more confident in my career, I was beginning to think more of marriage and family, but I didn't feel as though my life were off-schedule just yet. It helped that I had an adorable new nephew, and his mom and dad let me "borrow" him whenever I needed some Josh Time.
Still, even though I wasn't feeling concerned, I thought I'd better prepare myself for turning 30. This, I thought, might be an unacknowledged milestone age for me, and it might be more difficult than I could predict. So, in the months leading to my birthday, I made 30 my friend. Example grammar sentences on the board: "Joe bought 30 cupcakes for Sally and ( I / me )." Warming up something in the microwave: 3-0-START. New e-mail password: "30rocks."
I don't know how much that all helped, but two months before my 30th birthday, something even better happened. I met two fabulous new coworkers and soon close friends who were also turning 30 that year. When we discovered that we would all hit "the big 3-0" within five months of each other, we squealed and gave high fives all around. From that moment on, 30 was an event to be anticipated, not dreaded. We had a blast that year, helping each other past that particular milestone.
Now, at 36, I'm still not exactly sure of my marriage milestone age. It might have been 35. I know when that birthday came around, I found myself thinking that this was certainly not what I'd assumed my 35th birthday would look like. I had pictured dressing up and going out to a fancy dinner with my husband. I'd pictured his gift: a nice piece of jewelry--a necklace or bracelet. You know, a grown-up present. :) The reality was still pretty good: dinner with my brothers and their families, a Railer football game, and--the highlight of the day--being serenaded by the entire Railer Marching Band.
If 35 was my marriage milestone age, I feel as though I got past it fairly unscathed. Sure, being single at 36 can, at times, make me restless or anxious, but it rarely makes me depressed.
I do suspect turning 40 will be a bigger challenge, especially if I feel as though my life hasn't progressed in any meaningful way since now or even longer ago than now. Not just in the marriage department, but in career goals and personal goals, too. What some people call their "bucket list," as in "stuff I'd like to do before I kick the bucket."
In the case of my brother, I have a hard time imagining that he had any difficulty in turning 40. From my viewpoint, his life looks pretty amazing. He's been married to his best friend for over 15 years, he has two adorable and brilliant sons, he's widely respected in his profession by parents, students, administration, and colleagues. Plus, he's just so darn cool! (biased little sister talking here) But I don't know what his milestones are. He may have other unmet goals and ambitions that make him restless or give him pause.
And we're never free from milestones. They pepper our lives: the age by which you thought you'd own your own home, have children, start your own business, travel the world, write the great American novel, have grandchildren, retire, start a garage band. The milestones keep coming, and, if you feel as though your life is off-schedule, the negative emotions can keep coming as well.
But only one of life's milestones comes with a tombstone. Until then, milestone moments can be times to refocus, revitalize, remove oneself from the couch and get to work. Grab that bucket list and get started!
And if I find at age 40 that I'm feeling the milestone crunch, I'll buy myself a nice piece of jewelry. Or a Darth Vader pinata.
----------
It brought to mind an article I read over a decade ago (and which I spent several fruitless hours this week trying to find either in my files or online) about life's milestones. The idea of the article was that, in our lives, there are certain ages by which we thought we would have accomplished something. Sometimes we aren't even aware of these unspoken deadlines, and they are different for every person. Once a milestone has passed without the desired accomplishment being accomplished, we experience dissatisfaction or restlessness at the least or even severe depression at the worst.
Obviously, a key milestone age in nearly everyone's life is the age by which you thought you'd be married. The article stated that most people have a preconceived idea of the "right" age for them to get married, and most people who pass this age unmarried find themselves struggling with some level of depression.
When I read the article years ago, I had not yet passed my marriage milestone age. Most people my age were pairing off and planning weddings, but marriage still seemed like something in the future for me. Moreover, I had only a vague idea of the "right" age for me to get married.
I knew I wanted to finish college and live on my own for a while. I wanted to begin my career before I began a marriage. I was determined not to be one of those girls who went to college for her MRS degree.
For a while when I was 18, I started telling people that I wasn't getting married until I was 30. This came in response to unrelenting teasing I got from adults who thought I should be as boy crazy as my best friend and other girls my age. To get them off my back, I would say I wasn't getting married until I was 30, and "Who wants to date a guy for twelve years, anyway?"
30 was never a serious marriage milestone for me, and by the time it rolled around, I was too busy living life to get too concerned about it. I had accomplished several milestones since I was 18. I finished college in the four years I'd allotted myself, meeting my goal of finishing my English Education degree before my full-ride scholarships ran out. I traveled with our college choir to New York City and sang in Carnegie Hall. I dated a few guys, fell in love for the first time, survived my first broken heart. At 22, I got my first teaching job and moved into my first little rental house. Those first few years of teaching were stinkin' hard and earned me my first grey hair just before my 25th birthday (darn 8th graders!).
The next fall I moved as far across the country as it's possible to go to the exotic coastal town of Bellingham, Washington. Well, exotic to a girl from Nebraska! The Cascade Mountains to the east, the San Juan Islands and the Pacific Ocean to the west, and all visible on my daily bus ride to work. I taught at Western Washington University for two years while earning my Master's degree in English literature. It was a great experience and I made many friends for life, but graduation weekend saw me packing up to move back to the Midwest, to family, and to the sun. (Contrary to popular belief, it does NOT rain constantly in Washington. The grey skies, however, are pretty constant.)
At 27 years old, I returned to high school teaching and really started to become the teacher I was meant to be. As I felt more confident in my career, I was beginning to think more of marriage and family, but I didn't feel as though my life were off-schedule just yet. It helped that I had an adorable new nephew, and his mom and dad let me "borrow" him whenever I needed some Josh Time.
Still, even though I wasn't feeling concerned, I thought I'd better prepare myself for turning 30. This, I thought, might be an unacknowledged milestone age for me, and it might be more difficult than I could predict. So, in the months leading to my birthday, I made 30 my friend. Example grammar sentences on the board: "Joe bought 30 cupcakes for Sally and ( I / me )." Warming up something in the microwave: 3-0-START. New e-mail password: "30rocks."
I don't know how much that all helped, but two months before my 30th birthday, something even better happened. I met two fabulous new coworkers and soon close friends who were also turning 30 that year. When we discovered that we would all hit "the big 3-0" within five months of each other, we squealed and gave high fives all around. From that moment on, 30 was an event to be anticipated, not dreaded. We had a blast that year, helping each other past that particular milestone.
Now, at 36, I'm still not exactly sure of my marriage milestone age. It might have been 35. I know when that birthday came around, I found myself thinking that this was certainly not what I'd assumed my 35th birthday would look like. I had pictured dressing up and going out to a fancy dinner with my husband. I'd pictured his gift: a nice piece of jewelry--a necklace or bracelet. You know, a grown-up present. :) The reality was still pretty good: dinner with my brothers and their families, a Railer football game, and--the highlight of the day--being serenaded by the entire Railer Marching Band.
If 35 was my marriage milestone age, I feel as though I got past it fairly unscathed. Sure, being single at 36 can, at times, make me restless or anxious, but it rarely makes me depressed.
I do suspect turning 40 will be a bigger challenge, especially if I feel as though my life hasn't progressed in any meaningful way since now or even longer ago than now. Not just in the marriage department, but in career goals and personal goals, too. What some people call their "bucket list," as in "stuff I'd like to do before I kick the bucket."
In the case of my brother, I have a hard time imagining that he had any difficulty in turning 40. From my viewpoint, his life looks pretty amazing. He's been married to his best friend for over 15 years, he has two adorable and brilliant sons, he's widely respected in his profession by parents, students, administration, and colleagues. Plus, he's just so darn cool! (biased little sister talking here) But I don't know what his milestones are. He may have other unmet goals and ambitions that make him restless or give him pause.
And we're never free from milestones. They pepper our lives: the age by which you thought you'd own your own home, have children, start your own business, travel the world, write the great American novel, have grandchildren, retire, start a garage band. The milestones keep coming, and, if you feel as though your life is off-schedule, the negative emotions can keep coming as well.
But only one of life's milestones comes with a tombstone. Until then, milestone moments can be times to refocus, revitalize, remove oneself from the couch and get to work. Grab that bucket list and get started!
And if I find at age 40 that I'm feeling the milestone crunch, I'll buy myself a nice piece of jewelry. Or a Darth Vader pinata.
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