25

A birthday is a birthday. A day that is all yours, attention and gifts to be lavished, however great or small, and the best thing of all, is that you get to decide what to have for dinner.

The old saying goes that age is nothing but a number, and my age is never something I have really thought about. Getting to 16, then 18 were milestones that were longed for, and then 19 came, 20, 21 , that was a another big one, but to be honest I got more swept up in the hype of it than actually excited for being 21. In fact, my 21st was rather low key, Mark took me out to dinner, my brother met us out for drinks, and dear mother in law cooked a lush roast and got a cake. Perfect.

At 22 I became a mother, and I got married. At 23 I moved abroad for the second time (albeit back to Sweden that I left at  age 10). At 24 I was mamma to two daughters, with a husband, in Sweden, with my Volvo. A shiny, pretty white Volvo V70 sport infact, and a pain in a$$ to keep clean.

By my reckoning, the only thing I have left to cross off on the list “Things to do in order to become a fully fledged out-and-out adult” is to buy my our own house. And guess what…that is still some time away lol.

Crickey, I have been busy enough eh, and now I think would like a little time to just land and grow more into myself as the adult that I am, the mother that I am, and the wife that I am. All quite different parts of me, yet very much equal in importance. So ponder as I may, and worry about what it means to be a grown up and become older, I am now heading to bed to catch up on some beauty sleep. Oh, and slathering on some moisturiser to keep my youthful dewy glow *sarcastic*

please note my super cool pose at 25. Oh so mature šŸ˜‰


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