Forty Years Later...

Yes, it's true. I am forty today.

I should feel different, but I don't.

Forty sounds different, though.

I know it sounds totally over the hill to people 25 and under.

But I wouldn't trade places with my 20 year old self.

That would mean university classes, being separated from my man (he graduated before me), and too many unknowns.

I would still have to go through pregnancy and childbirth.

I loved both, but I did it, and it was hard, and sweet.

I don't need to repeat either.

I see young mums with little babies and I want to stop them and tell them how lucky they are.

To not always look to the future, rushing milestones.

I want to tell them to cuddle their babies even more, to not worry about it being "too much."

Can you ever breathe in the scent of a baby too much? I miss that.

I would trade places with my 27 year old self, though. Because I miss my little boys.

I want desperately to go back and scoop them up.

Because teenage boys are a far stretch from little boyhood when they stand taller than you.

I want to go back when everyone believed in Santa, not just Sophie.

I want to drink in her innocence, as she is still very much a little girl.

I want to freeze time and make her always love playing with her "babies", happy to hold my hand, and believing in Santa.

I want to tell all of the parents who are "done" with Santa to stop debunking ALL of the happy myths surrounding him to their children. Who, in turn, work very hard to convince my child to not believe. 

I want to ask them to allow the rest of us to enjoy it, and enable our children to believe in magic for just one more year.

Is that too much to ask?

I am happy that I have learned that all that I want is not at all that I need.

That laughing with your husband over shared, inside jokes can make your day.

I marvel that I have become messier. That clutter all of a sudden means that my life is full.

That I no longer crave a "perfect" home, for that might mean it is empty, that my little birds have left the nest.

I love that I don't know all that lies ahead, but I feel better equipped to embrace it for what it is.

That I don't need to be surrounded by people to be content...that I can entertain myself.

For you can still, at times, feel all alone amongst a group of people, no matter how old you get.

I am okay that I will never conquer my curls and my freckles have merged into age spots.

I still dislike what I have always disliked about myself, but I like more things, too.

In essence, I am happier than my 20 year old self, and that is all I need to confirm that my forties are not going to be so bad.

Despite the cackling of my sister as she welcomes me into "the club."

The End

(Whew! I guess I had to mark the milestone somehow on my blog, right? 

And I am not having a big Fortieth celebration, That is not who I am at all. 

I can't think of anything more uncomfortable, actually!)

Then:

Now:

In a nutshell, being a good mum is all I ever truly wanted to be. 

Everything else is a bonus...!

(above two photos: courtesy, Matthew Mead)