Another Year, Another Imminent Thanksgiving

This weekend I went to two different birthday parties where two of my friends were turning 27. You know what's weird? I remember my mom's 27th birthday party. I was 5.

My parents got married at 21 and 20 years old. They're not terrible people by any means (well...), but there are some things that don't need repeating, so in some respects I want to take their model and set it on its head. When I turned 21, I said to my friends, alright, all I have to do is not get married. Should be pretty simple. It was. Check. My mom had me when she was 22. Out of the question. On my 22nd birthday, I told my friends, alright, all I have to do is not get preggers. A little bit riskier, a tad harder than last year's goal, but certainly doable. I passed with flying colors. With those two hurdles cleared, each subsequent birthday diverges more and more from the model. In a month I turn 25. I was 3 years old, reading, and almost off to preschool by this point in my mom's life. At 25, my mom had 2 kids and was on her way to the third, so as long as I don't have twins or triplets in the next year, I'll be golden.

But seriously, though, I'm getting to an age where I not only existed but actually remember existing when my parents were at the very same point. So many things are becoming clearer, so many of their choices demystified, so much of our financial woes justified. As much as I joke about not wanting to follow in my parents' footsteps, I have to give them mad kudos for raising me and my siblings, maintaining a home for us, sending us to private schools, etc. I certainly couldn't have done it. Imagining me sending a kid off to school every morning in the next year of my life seems beyond belief.

When I was younger, I always wanted to be the young mom who had a lot of energy for her kids and was still very much in touch with her younger years, like my mom was for me. As I grew older I realized how ridiculous that was, how different my circumstances had to be, and how insane it was for my parents to have found each other ready and willing to go forward with such a life, fully believing that they would succeed. (Together they lovingly dreamed of having 10 kids! WTF. Imagining having a similar conversation with SM is laughable on many levels.) And succeed they did (for the most part). They raised 6 great, smart, mostly obedient kids with very little money, many hard times, but always high expectations. They both had guts and determination and instinct that I will be lucky to ever possess. As Thanksgiving approaches, I am so grateful that they did so well for all of us. And I'm grateful I don't have kids.