Milestones and Light Up Shoes

This week I turn thirty… devastating right?  I am supposed to have everything figured out at thirty.  And I’ve only just begun.  Certain things change at thirty.  The question, “How old are you?” used to be just a question.  Now it seems like a probing invasion of privacy. 

People have different opinions about this age.  Some tell me it’s when life really starts and you start figured out who you are as a person, what you are good at, what you look good in, and what you really don’t like but used to pretend you liked when you were in your twenties.  Others pronounce that it just plain sucks.    

I’m trying to take the milestone in stride, but I have never pondered over a birthday so much.  It’s a symbolic age I think… three decades.  The end of the twenties.  The beginning of the thirties, middle age...If life was a NASCAR race, I feel like the thirties would be when the flags wave and the race officially begins.  Now we see what we are really made of. 

To calm my concerns, I went shoe shopping.  It’s a motto the women in my family live by.  When in doubt ….about whether the progress you’ve made so far in your life, career, family, and charity work measures up to what a thirty year old should be accountable for… buy shoes!  Or, shortly put, “When in doubt, buy shoes.”    

While browsing, I found some sensible shoes for my son, whose current Sketchers he has beaten to a pulp.  But, he insisted I buy him these rather ugly, silly-looking-light-up shoes with a character called “Illimunator” on the top.  “Tyler, do you even know who the Illuminator is?”  I try to reason with him in the aisle at Shoe Carnival.  I see now why they call it a “carnival.” 

He solemnly nods his head.  I’m skeptical.  I’ve seen that poker face before.  “No you don’t.  You just want shoes that light up.”  “Puhlease mom….”  He stomps his foot.  We both look down.  And his face lights up along with his shoe.  He is in love with this character, who turns green every time he lights up.  They look like alien shoes, and I’m not a fan.  “They are cool mom!”  I’m unconvinced and look at my sensible and darling shoes in my hand.  “You don’t like these?” and I hold them out.  Practical, stylish, preppy, but no alien lights. 

Now he gives me the fake lost puppy face.  Why, oh why, did I bring him.  I start to cave, like any good mother should, right?  Wrong!  (I’ve got to work on this in my thirties.)  He is entranced with these silly shoes.  And I look at the bright side.  Maybe the “Illuminator” will have special powers that will keep him on the right path and out of trouble.

After checking out with alien shoes in hand and a very happy six-year old, I think maybe I need my own pair of Illiminator shoes… to show me the way into my thirties.  Maybe that’s why this birthday is giving me so much to think about.  I need a character that lights up my every step and illuminates the way to go. 

At thirty, you hope that you are on the right path and taking the right journey.  You have new paths you want to try, but are they going to be the right ones?  You have more responsibility now.  You have more people to think about.  But, no one is there to tell you exactly where to go. 

Getting older might have an advantage I didn’t thing about.  My son’s shoes are the new symbol of my thirties.  Maybe, we become our own “Illuminators” and shed light on problems we couldn’t fix in our twenties.  I should buy another pair (the shelves were stocked full of the ugly things), put it in a shadow box, shine a light on it, and hang it on my wall as a reminder of how great my thirties are going to be.  Lighting up the right path is all I need, and maybe, just maybe this happens from within.