I know we're only a few days into the new year but suddenly my brain can think of nothing else except my upcoming birthday in March. I'll be 40 years old. Let that sink in. Swish it around in your mouth a little bit. 40. When my own my mother turned 40, she was about to give birth to her 5th child. And I thought she was OLD. In some ways, it doesn't feel like it was that long ago and now I'm about to turn 40? What the hell? I'm certain I won't be giving birth this year so that's a huge plus ... but still ... the dreaded 40th birthday, like it's some sort of sign of the end.
It's clearly not the end. Life is actually getting easier. Sure, I still have young kids but they aren't as needy anymore. They'd much rather hang out with friends so that's leaving me with lots of free time. That's good ... and bad. Good because I don't feel as stressed while at home getting done the things I need to get done but bad because I find boredom creeping in at times and I wonder what the hell I'm going to do with myself when these boys grow up and move out. I realize I still have quite a few years before this happens but these are the crazy things I think about.
I'm blaming the 40th birthday.