The Old Lady

Today, I became an old lady. I know 39 is not technically old, but when I told my dad how old I was going to be, he winced. I am officially middle-aged. I could live to 78. But that means half of my life is over. And what the heck did I do with it?

I have to admit to not remembering a whole lot over the past 39 years. Bits and pieces. But when I try to remember specific things, I can't. I wish I could. My 20-year high school reunion was last year and everyone was reminiscing about the "good old days" and all the trouble that we almost got caught for, and I don't remember much. My sister and mom are always remembering the funny, crazy stuff that happened when we were younger and I often find myself in a fog. I just can't remember.

Perhaps I can't remember things, because I am always focused on the present and worrying about the future. I'm a big worrier and I need to stop. If I have learned anything over the past year, is that I have NO CONTROL about what happens in life. No control over my career. No control over my children. No control over what happens from day to day. All I can do is continue to get up every day and try to be as nice as I can to people. Smile and be nice.

My birthday has been a combination of disappointments and joys. I got to work at my part-time job today and everyone called me on the phone (from other parts of the office) and wished me a Happy Birthday. A woman named Teresa (who could quite possibly give the famous nun with the same name a run for her money) gave me a birthday card and a vase filled with flowers. I love working with all women! (Which leads me to another question...why are women so much more into birthdays than men? Except for his 21st, you don't really ever hear of a bunch of guys getting together to celebrate some other dude's birthday. At least not without a bunch of tequila shots.)

The kids came home from school and started fighting. (Bad) Chris called and said he was taking me out to dinner. (Good) I had to clean the house-okay, part of it-before the babysitter could come. (Bad) Babysitter doesn't show up, got the wrong time. (Bad) Chris goes and gets takeout from The Oven (Good! I love Indian food.) The kids sing me Happy Birthday and when it comes to the part that goes "Happy Birthday dear....." they sing my real name instead of "Mommy." (Hysterical- I didn't think they knew my real name. I thought they just knew "Mom" and how to whine it from across the house.)

So bring on the next 39 years. Again, I will have no control over what happens. I'll just try to keep being nice to people. And maybe I'll have unexpected flowers, a clean house, a tummy full of spicy comfort food and kids who know my name. Or are at least around to sing me Happy Birthday.

Now, where is the Gingka Biloba?