Turning 35

My beach baby last year

Birthdays change so much as you get older don't they? I'm sure I used to be counting down to my Birthday for weeks when I was younger. It was all exciting wasn't it? You'd get your favourite food, have a list of possible gifts or loads of things circled in the Argos catalogue and get to stay up late, it was better than Christmas. Though, as I approach my Birthday in a couple of days, I'm feeling more reflective than excited. I don't know if it's that lack of sleep courtesy of my toddler, the uncertainty that surrounds us all at the moment, or just the fact that I'm getting older and maybe even a tiny bit wiser with it, but it's definitely different.

I can't help but think back to where I thought I'd be at my age. I'm sure that at some point or another we've all had a picture of where we want to be by a certain age, whether we've had work goals or family goals. Now one of those milestones I'd always thought about is in a matter of days. I'm almost 35, but am I where I wanted to be?

The easy answer is no. I thought that by the age of 35 I'd have all the answers. I'd have the family I wanted, be in my forever home, have travelled to all sorts of different places and know what career I wanted.

Seems I'm still none the wiser. I've never known what I wanted career wise, and I still don't have a clue. I have no idea if I'm happy where I'm living, whether I can get past what my house is missing for what is a pretty great location. I'm still too much of a home comfort person to really push myself to travel the world. Plus I don't know exactly what my family picture is going to be. It's a bit scary to think about really.

But then is life about hitting targets or the journey? I guess the answer depends on who you are. While I've been thinking things over I've started to realise that for me, life is definitely about the journey. I might not be the together adult I hoped I might be at 35, but it's been a decent journey to get to where I am today.

Of course it's not all been fun, there are things I might have done differently, different decisions I could have made and things I wish had turned out differently. I don't really think I'd be any closer to the together adult I thought I might be even if I had done things differently though.

That's why, despite being so tired I'm crying at CBeebies bed time stories with Tom Hardy, I'm going to focus on all of the things I'm proud of. I have my little family, I volunteer to support an amazing charity, I have a beautiful, although slightly messy, home that might not be the dream but it's a great place to be while I work it all out, and I've got some amazing memories.

I'm sad that I can't leave 34 on the high I intended, sipping cocktails by a pool in Rhodes and watching my little boy run into the sea (don't worry, I'd go after him). Disappointed that we can't enjoy the rare treat of some time away from it all. But the sun is shining, I've just had ice cream delivered, we're safe and one day I hope I'll be able to make it up to my boy. Because no matter how much thinking I do, or time I spend sitting and reflecting, the fact I have my little boy is really all that matters.