Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Discovering Age

As I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, I noticed the unthinkable.

I've been dreading the big 3-0 for some time now.  Growing "old" was just not something I ever intended to do.  I was going to be forever young at heart.  Full of energy and swarming with children that were happy, healthy, well rounded, beautiful and we'd spend our days singing songs, learning about the world, and playing in the crisp sunshiney air of paradise.  My husband would come home to a perfectly clean home (a large one with a beautifully manicured yard) and he would happily tickle the children on the floor until I graced the table with my 5 course meal.  30 was old, and for sure, by then, I'd have it all figured out and life would be perfect.

The thing about life is that it isn't perfect.  So as 30 approaches, I am faced with unrealized dreams.  Yes, I have a loving husband and a happy, healthy, beautiful little boy.  So who am I to complain (I mean seriously, I've got it pretty good)?
http://www.freeimages.com/photo/346868

But...as I pulled my hair back into a ponytail that day, I noticed the unthinkable.  Two gray hairs.  I stared at them for a while and then sent Brandon a lamenting text hoping to get some sympathy (which I didn't get, mind you).  I tried my best to pretend they didn't exist and the next day, as I pulled my hair back, I looked for them again.  I almost liked them for some insane reason.  Did they make me feel distinguished?  Mature?  Was I just glad to have something to prove that I'm not 14?  As I looked for them again that day I realized...I didn't have two gray hairs.  I had like 10!  Well, I guess that's the end of my youth, I thought.  I'm still unsure what cruel trick life is playing on me to grace me with gray hairs while I STILL have acne.  But, as I thought about it, I was shocked at how little the gray hairs actually bothered me.

So it must not be the looks that bother me about getting old.  What is it?

And then it hit me.  I don't want to feel old.  I don't want to be boring.  Is that what a midlife crises is about?  Convincing ourselves that we are not boring?  Truth be told, that would be a lie.  Because I am quite boring.  But, surely there's always something we can do about that.

And in the meantime...we won't mention those "few" strings of silver gracing my head.

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