30 hit me like a ton of bricks. My hair seemed to darken over night. My forehead wrinkle deepened. I think I may be able to now smuggle drugs in my pores, they’re so big. But guess what else happened at 30 for me….I don’t give a shit. 30 is my age when I stopped caring about things that don’t matter.
How the hell did I get here? It’s not like you’re born not giving a shit. I mean come on, how many times do we need to calm our kids down for giving a shit about who sat in the front seat last or who gets to pick the show or that so and so called them a poopy head? Honestly, for me, it took me to really have something to give a shit about before I could let go of all the other stupid things that I would stress over.
Like the other day. I don’t have time to worry about the old lady in the grocery store that glared at my four screaming banshees and told me I should make them stop touching everything. Sorry lady. I’m too busy keeping them alive to give a shit about what you think and that was clear when we met up with you in the next aisle and they pretty much almost knocked you over. How’s that for not fucking touching anything?
I’m saving my shits for things that need it and not wasting them on things that don’t deserve it.
Like holding onto friendships that make you unhappy. Friends should make you smile, not cry. I’ve held onto certain friends for way too long. And now I finally realized that having one ‘have your back no matter what friend’ is better than 20 not so good ones.
Or caring about how others think I look. I used to be so self conscious about everything. What I wore, my skin, my body. I’m so over that. Like if want to wear a mini skirt and an article says it’s on the list of what mom’s should NOT wear, guess what….I’m gonna fucking rock it anyways. And you know what I’ve realized? You judge yourself way more harshly than anyone else ever will. And let them judge if they must. It just means they don’t have the balls to wear the mini (or I guess in my case, muddy boots and a pen in my hair.)
I’m over trying to make everyone happy. It’s impossible and it took me thirty years to figure that out. Make those that matter happy, starting with you.
Also, no is my new favorite word. Can you volunteer for the dance? No. Can you watch so and so while I go shopping? No. Can you help me move ALL 3000 pieces of my furniture in one day? No. Can I borrow, borrow, borrow? No, no and no. Don’t get me wrong, I’m am the first person to help out, but if I can’t, I don’t give a shit about saying no. Especially if I feel like I’m being taken advantage of. After 30 years of yes, no feels surprisingly freeing.
Writing this blog has been an offspring of not giving a shit. Yes, I’m doing well and no I don’t care if you’re gonna judge me anymore. I don’t care if you think I have too many kids that I can’t handle. I don’t care if you don’t like me. I don’t care if you think my hair is fake. I don’t give a shit if you think I’m too young. I don’t care if you don’t like my parenting. I don’t care if you don’t like my blog or what I’m posting. I DON’T GIVE A SHIT (wow that feels good).
So instead, I’m going to save my shits for my four little shits. For my happiness. For my goals. For my family and friends that give a shit back. And I’m not gonna give a shit about all that other shit.
Shit shit shit shit shit
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go shovel shit and probably change shit. See why I don’t have time to give a shit?