The Season of Boring

Gabe mentioned something to me during our Saturday morning coffee talk a couple of weeks ago.
Something that's really had my wheel's turning.

This week marks the longest we've ever lived in one place since we've been married.
Exactly one week longer than the time we lived in Rhode Island.

Naturally, it feels a bit odd to not be packing our things.
It was always such a thrill getting news that we were to relocate somewhere we'd never been.
We would immediately spend hours Googling potential neighborhoods and reading Yelp reviews on local coffee shops and cafes.

{Sigh.}
Moving around provided some of the best years of our married life.
And I'd be lying if I said we don't get the itch every now and then.

Even just over a year ago when I was still pregnant with Lyla, Gabe mentioned the inkling of a desire  to move to a big city with more opportunity, culture, and hustle and bustle.
But as exhilarating as it may be to go in blindly to a new place, I really like being settled, I sure like convenience, and I really like a little thing called family.
I think I'm past my prime for the fast-paced city life, I told him, just like I'm past my prime for roughing it in the wild. I prefer having a car, clean towels, and being less than 5 miles from Target. 

I think after that, he went to the bedroom and cried a little.

And then it occurred to me.
Do I no longer thrive on living life on the edge or by seeking new adventure?

I'm not exactly sure when the switch was flipped.
The switch that made it so I suddenly became *seemingly* a dud.
But it most certainly was flipped somewhere along the line.

Of course having a baby changed a few things: outlook, perspective, priorities, the need for a more supportive bra, and the nap that I will never have again.
And then there was my job-change that offered a much more relaxed change of pace.
And can I count this cold winter as playing a part in my lack of desire to get out and explore the world?
But more than having a baby, changing jobs, and dealing with icky weather, I truly feel like hitting 30 caused the momentous change inside me. A change that was exactly what I {unknowingly} needed. A change that somehow made it ok to do the things that make me happy, even if those things seem stale and insignificant to the young whippersnappers.

Now that I've hit the big 3-oh, I say it's socially acceptable to be boring.
And thank the Lord.
Because I've been waiting on boring for the last 30 years.
I was never cut out for the party scene.
And I'm such an old lady at heart.

But don't be fooled for a second.
Boring, to me, does not actually mean insignificant or mundane.
And it definitely does not mean "not a thing on my plate" or "brutally un-fun".

It simply means more relaxed. Not caring what others think. Doing what makes me happy. Not focusing so much on what makes others happy. Enjoying the small things. Being less self-absorbed. Refining my taste. Experiencing a newfound confidence. Quality of friends over quantity. Wine and coffee. Intelligent conversations. Slowing down to take it all in. Reading interesting {and factual} articles. And accepting the fact that I'm much more of a homebody than I ever realized.

And so what.
I really like books and house projects and movies and lazy weekends {all of which completely describe last Saturday at our house}.

My 21 year old self is horrified.
But my 30 year old self doesn't care.

But this is also the season of life where I have finally let go. I no longer strive to do what I think I'm supposed to do or what I think others think I'm supposed to do. I do what I want to do. I fully embrace this life I've been blessed with. I'm abundantly thankful. When at one time, I wasn't always so grateful. I compared and envied and even felt slighted at times for not being given the same opportunities as others around me. But now that I'm older {and wiser}, I fully believe that regardless of the deck of cards we've been dealt, we ourselves must create opportunities. I've done a lot of growing and a lot of maturing and am fully confident that our circumstances, especially the bad, shape us into the beautiful individuals God intended for us to be.

I'm in a season where I actually like me.

I guess all I'm really trying to say is that growing up really doesn't suck as bad as I thought it was going to. In fact, being a grown up is my most favorite thing ever. I mean, of course I have those days where I would give anything to be back at the ADPi house watching The Bachelor, where my only worry was that I ran out of Diet Coke mid-rose ceremony. But overall, I much prefer this season of life over any other that I've experienced.

I've always loved the changing of seasons. So much that it leaves me to fight my constant intrinsic desire to move onto the next big season and battle my never-ending "need" to accomplish, to do, and to change. But I am humbly reminded to "be still" and savor this time, for this is one season that I'd like to stick around for just a tad bit longer.

Here I am. Just being boring with my Beans.