The American Dream can kiss my.....rear end. (Do kids read this?)

I'm going to be 30 years old in four months. I realize that is not old, but I remember a time when 30 seemed ancient to me. My husband being fifteen years older than myself, cannot wait for me to turn 30 so I will be a decade closer to him....or so it would seem lol. I wonder sometimes how my daughter feels and thinks when it comes to my age. I try to be so well put together and under control for my entire family, especially her. I wonder if sometimes I'm only fooling myself though and she can see right through my mask. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm putting on a total act about my life and I secretly want to be living in Paris painting. I am exactly where I want to be, who I want to be with and doing (for the most part) what I want to be doing. It's just 30 maybe getting to me more than I realize. Thirty years of nothing really to show except divorce, bankruptcy, broken hearts and a beautiful blue eyed little girl that had to endure all of the above with me. I don't believe in the American Dream like our forefathers have so sweetly expected of us. Two cars in a garage, two kids tucked in their beds, in their cute little rooms, a beautiful husband that kisses you goodbye in the mornings, at the front door, on his way to work (yes this is a run-on sentence....you will learn I don't care). You stay home, cook, bake, decorate and shop, take a yearly vacation to the beach and go to ball games on Friday night. Quite frankly, that makes me want to vomit. My life is a little more chaotic than that, and I prefer it that way. It fits us. I don't know what secret tool measures success, but I feel as if ultimate survival and refrain from total insanity seems pretty successful. Especially when we're facing government shut downs, debt ceilings, religious wars, recession, soaring gas prices, need I go on....I'll admit I don't know, nor do I care much about that BS, I care about whether the ones I love will survive it (I'm a little bit of a prepper, not extreme, but enough). To me, I feel as if I have been fairly successful in my 30 years. I have a roof over my head, food in my fridge and on the table, clothes on my back and enough money in my pocket to occasionally go blow it on junk at the antique store. Yet, there is this looming spirit of failure over me recently. I watched my daughter walk up the stairs into school this morning, I remember when I walked up the same stairs, am I capable of doing more for her? For my husband? For his kids? I feel no different than I did when I was 17 and freedom seemed like a tangible object. I still have the same desires and dreams, just much more self control and responsibility. I was in deep thought as I was watching her go in, then she reached around and fixed an apparent wedgie, turned around to me, smiled, waved and blew me a kiss. Guess what....I am going to be 30 years old, and I'm still here. That's pretty awesome :). Success! (applause, applause, taking a bow)