Birthday Bucket List - A Check Up

I am almost nine months into this being twenty-nine thing.
It's neither here nor there that I am also closer to thirty years old than I have ever been in my whole entire life.

In true Type A, crazy planner, over the top, Jenn Bell form, I am revisiting my list to see where I stand.
I will cross out and add links and/or pictures to anything I have checked off, italicize anything in progress, and leave undone those not yet addressed.

This is the original post from November 29.
 

In honor of my twenty-ninth birthday, my very last year as a twenty-something, before hitting the big 3-0, I am making a birthday bucket list.

A list of things I want to accomplish in what God promises to be a year full of even more than I could ever ask or imagine.

So, why not?

 

  

One. Spend an entire weekend free of social media - no blogging, no Facebook, no Instagram, no Twitter, no messaging, not even any Googling. Just me and my boys. We live in a world that says, "If you don't _______ (fill in the blank - tweet about it, take a picture of it, post about it), then it never happened." Well, shucks. I'm proving that way wrong.

 

Two. Take off a day of work to volunteer at Baker's school. Here's to shucking my teacher badge for a whole day and wearing my mommy hat. Yippee skippy.

 

I even convinced Brian to join the fun! We rendezvoused for a fun breakfast date and then spent a fabulous Friday being Baker's mommy and daddy. We even got to serve at the Gene Stalling's golf tournament, and took advantage of a priceless photo op. We had so much fun we're already planning this in the upcoming year....when we're thirty. Womp. Womp. Womp.

 

 

 

Three. Buy a stranger's lunch.
 

 It was actually dinner. See here. While this one is technically accomplished, I will strive to do this over and over. Because it is way fun!
 

Four. Watch a sunrise. Watch a sunset.

 

For once, I let the snooze button sleep in. Totally worth it. Totally.

 

 

 

Five. Read a just for fun book. Read a devotional. Read a how-to book.

Love Does by Bob Goff
A Simple Act of Gratitude by John Kralik

Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World by Joanna Weaver

The Pioneer Woman Cooks - Recipes from an Accidental Country Girl by Ree Drummond

For others, see my Summer Reading List
  

 Six. Share the gospel with twelve people. Ten seems too predictable, thirteen seems way scary.

 

Seven. Send an I'm thinking about you happy note to at least one person every week.

This is one of my favorite parts of each week - sitting down with my favorite pen and stationary, fancy address stamp, and sending happy thoughts to those I hold most dear.

 

Eight. Go on a fancy date with my husband once a month. Here's to high heels, and bright lipstick, and big hair, and dazzling, and wooing, and falling all over in love.

I love this one being ongoing. I think we'll promise to do this once a month for all the months of the rest of our forever.  

 

Nine. Do at least five spontaneous somethings - plan a vacation and leave in the same hour, eat something new off the menu at my favorite restaurant, make an unplanned purchase.

This is hard for a planner. Super duper hard.

 

One.

Trip to Chattanooga. We transferred Baker from his crib to the car and hit the road for a fun-filled day trip!

 

 

Two.

A date with my biggest love on a school night. Talk about living on the edge!

 

Three.

Does an unplanned hospital vacation count?

 

 

 

Four.

This. A daddy and his boy and a favorite fishing hole. I am realizing that some of life's most precious moments are the ones I can't perfectly orchestrate.

 

 

 

Five.

Four words. Impromptu. Ice. Cream. Date.

 





 



 

 Ten. Train for and run a race. It's neither here nor there that I failed to acknowledge the length of the race. We'll see.

I bought a new pair of tennis shoes and running socks. They look really cute with my leggings. That's all I know for now. Baby steps, y'all.

 

Eleven. Adopt a child from World Vision. I have wanted to do this since Baker was born. While I think it would be perfectly fine to choose any child, I want a boy or girl who shares Baker's birthday. Each year, as we plan his party, we will also help this new friend celebrate the day of his or her birth. Birthdays are special, and should be celebrated as such.

 

Twelve. Get something waxed. Never have I ever, ever had any part of my body waxed. And as an almost thirty year old, I think it's a rite of passage.

 

"L'7 Weenie!

Yeah, yeah, Oscar Meyer even, footlong, dodger dog, a weenie!"

Sandlot, anyone?

  

Thirteen. Learn how to change a flat tire. Learn something new. Or at least how to pop my hood. Being married to a Mr. Fix It, I need to know none of these things. I think, as a woman of age, I should be educated.

 

This summer, I assembled a new desk, with tools and without my husband. And it functions. Perfectly. Don't miss those key details. And, for the record, I now know how to pop my hood. Boom. Maybe that will make oil changes slightly less embarrassing.

Forget the rest. As an almost thirty year old, I will delegate the rest. Smart women "of age" know their limits, and know when to sit back and let someone else do the dirty work.

 

Fourteen. Go to an Alabama football game outside of Bryant Denny Stadium. I have been to my fair share of home games, but it's high time I visit some of these non-championship winning SEC stadiums. Roll Tide, y'all.

 

Fifteen. Plant a garden with Baker. Grow fruits and vegetables. Eat them, cook with them, share them. Enjoy this. The dirt digging, and fingernail cleaning, and seed planting, and soil watering, and plant sprouting amazing process of things growing from the ground.

 

Blueberry growing, Blueberry picking. Blueberry eating. That, my friends, is how it's done.

 

 

 

Sixteen. Go to a movie. Buy a huge drink and a big bucket of popcorn. With lots of butter and zero regrets.

 

Seventeen. Kiss my husband in four different states.

Tennessee. Boom.

Florida. Bow Chicka Wow Wow Chicka Wow Wow

Alabama. Duh.

Mississippi. Check.

I'm okay with being an overachiever here. You know, for the purposes of this bucket list.

Eighteen. Go to the beach. Build sandcastles, keep Baker up way past his bedtime to experience the thrill of hunting crabs by flashlight, go on a dolphin cruise, take cheesy beach pictures in coordinating outfits, get airbrushed t-shirts made to commemorate the event.

Nineteen. Go to a concert. Preferably one that involves the outdoors and cowboy boots.

 

Preferably Garth Brooks. Consider this my current mission.

Twenty. Sit down in chair at the salon, sans pictures, sans specific instructions with pointing and measuring, and all the details of how I want my hair cut and styled, and say only, "Go."

Eeeekkk. That one took a lot out of me.

Twenty-one. Buy a fancy bottle of wine. No fancy occasion required.

Twenty-two. Do a service project with Brian and Baker. I'm still praying about how this looks for us.

Twenty-three. Take a photography class.

Twenty-four. Join the Be the Match registry.

Twenty-five. Go on a girl's trip. Only friends. No children. No husbands. Tons of belly-aching laughter, inside joke sharing, memory making fun.

The best. No pictures allowed. What happens on a girl's trip stays on a girl's trip.

Twenty-six. Teach Baker the simple joy of cooking. Pancake batter head to toe, chocolate chips strewn haphazardly across the counter, syrup sticking to every surface. Yes, I think we will start with chocolate chip pancakes.

Twenty-seven. Test drive an impractical car. I envision something with only two doors, no top, great speakers, faster than law allows, music blaring.

Twenty-eight. Go to an amusement park. Ride roller coasters, eat funnel cakes, buy the expensive souvenir pictures.

Twenty-nine. Live intentionally. Love each day. Cherish those most dear. Be purposeful. Spread joy. Smell flowers. Read books. Hand write notes. Sing loudly. Skip in the street. Smile. Play board games. Walk barefooted in wet grass. Swing. Make homemade bread. Pick pecans.

I want this to be my purpose every single day. I am working on living a life with less clutter and more meaning.

Here's to a year of life loving, double dare taking, memory making, dreams coming true.