My 6 year old had a meltdown last week. It was one of those really good ones. You might know the type? All the typical emotions took place; there was whining and screaming, arms and legs flailing and finally a full-out throw down on to my bed.

I don’t even know what started the tantrum. Maybe I wouldn’t let her have a second Popsicle? Whatever the cause, it was fierce and likely fueled by lack of sleep.

These tantrums don’t happen very often. Instead of scolding her during the screaming fit, I gave her some space. A few minutes later she was calm and we were able to chat about it.

“I just felt like getting it out, Mom” Ella explained.

Too bad life’s answers aren’t always that easy.

I want to have a tantrum — a full blown, arms and legs flailing, curdling scream meltdown. And I can’t use the excuse of no sleep for this one. To perform such a juvenile act I should at least have a reason. I don’t. I have no good reason to throw a tantrum to rival my 6 year old.

But I want to anyway.

My life is great. I have an incredible family, two beautiful little girls and a job that I am privileged to call mine. I live in a free country. I live in a state that I love and a city where I know many names. On top of all that, I get to chat with you fine strangers once a week.

I have it pretty darn good.

Why the tantrum thing again you ask? I was chatting with a friend last week and this same topic came up. She feels it too. We’re both in our 30s. Is it possible to have a mid-life crisis before mid-life?

I blame it on our generation. Women between the ages of 29-37 might feel it too. We’re in a gap, not the clothing store that became hip during our teen years, but the gap between two generations. It’s a strange place to be. We know what’s it’s like to live in a world with and without technology. We like Bon Jovi and Justin Timberlake, Duck Hunt and Angry Birds. We want to wake up in a high rise New York City apartment and be lulled to sleep by the crickets from a Nebraska cornfield. We’re constantly pulled between this expectation to stay home with our babies or raise our kids and have a successful, powerful career.

I can’t speak for all of us at this age but it’s often how I feel. I wonder, some days, if I’m good at any of it.

The positive thing about having a mid-life crisis at age 32 is that it’s happening at age 32. By 35 or at the very latest, 40, I’m sure to have all this stuff figured out, right?

I’m not going to do anything drastic. I won’t quit my job and move to New York City. I won’t get a tattoo or pierce odd places of my body. I won’t start making homemade Pinterest crafts or homeschool my children. Not that any of those things are necessarily bad, of course. But all would be bad for me.

I probably won’t change my routine much at all. It is pretty perfect. But in the privacy of my own home, when no one but the cat is there to hear me, I might have a tantrum; a full blown, arms flailing, meltdown. Because sometimes it just feels good to get it out.