The Lessons I Learned Too Late
When you hit that 35–45 age bracket, something changes. Suddenly, you find yourself reflecting on all the things you wish you’d figured out earlier in life. Not just the things you should’ve learned, but the things you wish you had actually listened to. Regret is a powerful emotion—but so is embarrassment.
Here’s my confession: I was a good student in school. On paper, anyway. My GPA stayed between 3.8 and 4.0, I racked up scholarships, and I knew how to make teachers smile. But in reality? I sometimes took the easy way out. If I didn’t see myself needing it someday, I didn’t bother learning it well.
One of those classes was economics. I passed with the bare minimum. Honestly, I treated it like it was just something to survive, like gym class dodgeball. But now, as an adult who juggles bills, savings, kids’ activities, and the occasional surprise medical expense, I wish I’d paid more attention. Balancing a budget feels a lot like being back in dodgeball, except now the balls are made of overdue notices.
Another class I regret brushing off was shop. If you’re an ’80s kid, you probably remember it: woodworking, building, and fixing things. At the time, I thought, Why would I ever need this? Well, now I know exactly why. Because adulthood is just one long string of things breaking.
My teacher let me skim by, and I was happy to coast. But now, I watch my older sister with this mix of awe and envy. She can rip a window out of her house and install a new one. She’s rebuilt stairs, put in new flooring, tiled her kitchen backsplash—basically turned her home into an HGTV episode. Meanwhile, I open the box of instructions for laying my own flooring and feel like I’m reading hieroglyphics. “Step 1: Insert tab A into slot B.” Where’s tab A? What’s slot B? Why does it look nothing like the picture?!
So instead of DIY, I do what I now call DIFM: Do It For Me. I hire someone else. And sure, it gets done, but it adds to the ever-growing “maybe someday” pile of projects I wish I could do myself. My deck, for example, desperately needs to be rebuilt. How amazing would it feel to say, I did that with my own two hands? But thanks to my past self slacking off in shop class, my present self has to open the checkbook instead of the toolbox.
Now, I can already hear the advice: “Just learn it now. You’re never too old to learn.” And you know what? That’s fair. But let’s be real—learning something like flooring or carpentry requires one thing I don’t have: time.
Sure, YouTube is always there to help, but let’s be honest—it’s a trap. The guy in the video says, “This is so easy, anyone can do it!” while casually replacing a roof in thirty minutes with a smile and zero sweat. Meanwhile, I’m five minutes in, covered in dust, three bandaids deep, and my project looks like something the dog chewed on. YouTube makes me believe I’m about to star in my own DIY success story, and then reality checks me like, “Ma’am, please step away from the power tools.”
And if I’m being completely honest, my own track record proves the point. Case in point: the bookshelf. I tried to put one together once, and let’s just say it did not go as planned. At first glance, it looked okay—until you touched it. Then it wobbled like Jell-O in an earthquake. If anyone leaned on it even slightly, I was sure it would collapse into a neat little pile of timber. My kids gave it the side-eye every time they walked past, like it was some kind of booby trap. In the end, we handed it off to someone who actually knew what they were doing, and I just paid the extra money for one that was already built and delivered. Honestly? Best money I’ve ever spent. At least this one won’t try to kill us.
If you’ve read my blog before, or even just the title—The Overbooked Life—you know my schedule is pure chaos. Mom of five. Working nearly every day. Running to appointments. Chasing kids. Trying to remember when I last had a moment to just sit down. And when I do finally have a rare day off? It usually ends with me sick in bed, staring at the ceiling like, So this is what relaxation feels like.
That’s the thing. It’s not laziness. It’s just life. No time, and when there is time, no energy.
So yes, I wish I’d learned differently. I wish I’d had the foresight to realize that certain skills—budgeting, carpentry, basic home repair—would be worth their weight in gold. Youth doesn’t think like that. My younger self was sure she’d end up living in some sleek little city apartment, working in music or computers, making enough money to just hire people to fix stuff. Marriage and kids weren’t in the plan at all.
And yet, here I am. Married. Five kids. A house that constantly needs something fixed. And honestly? I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
What I can do now is change how I approach things. I may not have time to take on every new skill, but when life presents the chance to learn—even something small—I take it. Because someday, I just might need it. And maybe, just maybe, my future self will thank me for giving her a gift that my past self didn’t.
Until next time, keep the coffee strong and the chaos manageable.
The Overbooked Life 
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