I’ll be 39 in a few weeks.
And—what a surprise—I have a few special wishes for my birthday. First, I want a pair of red boots. A little sparkle, a little kick to make my black boots jealous. And second, I want a new practical, yet “girly,” watch. I wear the time on my sleeve, non-stop. In the shower, to bed, to fancy occasions—everywhere, so it has to be functional and please, can it be pretty too?
There’s one more thing I want for my birthday. I want to stop feeling so old!?
Nearly 40 isn’t all that ancient after all!
Okay, yes the usual aging suspects are tiptoeing in. At night I can’t read the CNN news ticker. My weight is getting harder to control; I almost lost those 10 pounds from the beginning of the school year, but a few pounds always find their way back home to my hips no matter what I try. My husband will tell you my hearing is starting to slide—I’ll tell you I don’t always WANT to hear him! And wrinkles, what is that about? SO not fair.
But the thing that is really disturbing me—making me think I’m officially crossing over—is my memory. Or, my “lack thereof” lately? Plus it doesn’t help that my daughter is playing the song “Memory” from Cats over and over on the piano for an upcoming recital! Good luck getting that out of your head!
My husband has been traveling so much in the last 5 months, he’s beginning to resemble George Clooney in the film “Up in the Air.” It’s really dragging on me as a not-quite “single mom,” which in turn drags on the kids. I’ve even hired an after school assistant to help me with some of the chaos when my husband is out of town. But, still? I’m forgetting small things!
A little taste of what I mean...
I left a pork tenderloin out all night that was “thawing for just a few hours.” I completely forgot to put it in fridge before bedtime. The next morning I trashed it, too worried about salmonella to cook it.
One morning I walked out to start the car and realized I had left the garage door open all night. I should have written a sign that said: “Burglars welcome from 2-4 a.m.; the good stuff is in the back!”
I bought really nice steaks the other day, on sale, intending to save and freeze them for the next Sunday dinner…only, a few days later I noticed a strange grocery sack sitting on the garage floor. It was over by the deep freezer…yeah, it was the steaks. I had walked over to the deep freezer, set the bag down, opened the freezer, probably rearranged frozen peas and carrots, and then “distraction(?)” took over and I left the steaks to babysit themselves while I meandered into the house. I was so disgusted with myself!
Is it really my memory though? (All alone in the moooon-light?)
This is the stuff that’s making me crazy. Is it really my age? I think it’s more like I'm overwhelmed with the kids’ never ending needs, my own work, and, you know, all the household tasks like remembering to take out the trash! Why can’t I simply remember to walk through the kitchen one last time before bedtime?!
Maybe my new birthday watch will have extra alarms for Forgetful, Overwhelmed Mommy Syndrome? Is that asking too much? Otherwise I’m taking my new boots and going for a long walk! (NOT in the moonlight.)