Lately I have become acutely aware of my age, and I've been trying to pinpoint the time I started to feel this way because I never really cared about it before. I think it's been since living here that I have become so preoccupied with feeling like 35 is the beginning of the end.
My kids are growing up way too fast and I am constantly on them about knocking it off, and they refuse to listen. I mean, if I can at least keep them little then time stops right? I see them doing the very things I did as a kid and it hones in on the fact that time is wildly slipping through my fingers. As we walked out of the auditorium last month after Brandon's school program, my mom and I were talking about how he's the third generation to have school programs at that place. I remember standing on that stage in second grade (and a million times after that up through high school), and Mom remembered being a kid up there too.
I was 28 when I had Brandon, my mom was 32 when she had me - my parents seemed ancient to me when I was a kid. They just seemed old, and I don't mean feeble and wrinkly and needing to nap all the time. I mean, their lives seemed like someone came and pulled the plug on fun and all that was left to run on was dread. I often wonder how my kids view me, if they see me as someone who has crumbled under the weight of life, or if they see me as one of them, only bigger and with a job.
I have this absurd idea that I'm getting too old to find that special someone to love and be silly with for the rest of my life. I mean, who wants a woman with two kids, graying hair (getting grayer by the day), crows feet, and all my baggage? Who wants a 1975 model when they can get all they want out of the *Just Out* section? Do the feeble and wrinkly find love or is it just a myth?
I've never been the pretty, drop-dead-beauty-at-first-impression- type of a girl. I'm the kind who has to marinate in your subconscious for a while before you decide whether or not I'm ok. Then you'll either love me or want to shoot me in the head. Sometimes both. So as I get older maybe that's the one thing I have going for me. Ahh I love posts like this when I'm writing and complaining, then as I write and complain I have an Ah-ha moment which we are experiencing right now.
I guess getting old is so much more about the mental attitude than the physical package. Am I right? Is there really any more to it than keeping a good sense of humor, knowing when to let loose and have a good time, and playing once in a while? The number on the birth certificate doesn't have to gauge what the mind is capable of, as long as we are willing to use the mind we have.
It's gonna take a bit for me to shift the way I think when things trigger my *old age meter*, but I think with a little practice I can learn to embrace the person I am, not worry about the miles I carry. But first I need a nap...