Here you are again, at the end of decade. Your fourth decade. If you squint and lean in, you can maybe see a glimpse of the fifth decade looming. See it, over there on the horizon? It’s that tiny dot of light.
Yes, I said light.
From here, Forty appears to be full of light.
But for now you are Thirty-Nine.
Three hundred and sixty-five days of Thirty-Nine.
(Less now because it takes you so long to publish a post.)
What are we going to do with this last year as a thirty-something? We are all done with the pregnancy years. It’s been nine years since that first miscarriage, which means all “deliveries” were in your thirties. This year you will be the mom of a 2nd turned 3rd grader, a preschool turned kindergartener, and a two-turned-three year old. By the time you hit forty, there will not only be no more babies for you, but no more toddlers either. You won’t be a mom of “Littles” anymore, but a mom of “young children”.
Over the past week, you’ve written and looked at and thought about the number 39 often.
Sometimes that number seems so big. Remember when your mom was this age? She was such a…mom. You were fourteen. Thirty-nine is almost 40, after all. It’s so…adult. So grown-up. So…parental. I mean, can you believe you’ve been around for 39 years when college–heck high school–seems like it was ten minutes ago?
Sometimes that number seems small. Ok, maybe not small, but not so terribly big. Many of your friends are already in their forties and you don’t think of them as old or middle-age or anything weird. In fact, you strive to be like them: confident, happy, healthy.
You are not much of a bucket list person, so you don’t have a 40 before 40 or anything like that. You’re also not one for sitting around wishing you had done something differently. You can’t change the past, so it doesn’t do any good to over-analyze how you could have done things another way. Before you turn forty next year, though, there are a few things you will do.
You’re going to help your family be healthier. Cortney has family history of heart disease and cancer. You have cancer in your history too. It’s time to get serious about the fact that you are not young and invincible.
You’re going to take more photos with your Big Camera. You got that thing after Eddie was born and somehow decided it was too unwieldy to tote around with a baby. Well, there are no more babies in your family. Get it out. Get practicing.
You’re going to apply for a PhD program. This weekend you take the first of two GRE tests for that. You keep worrying that this will cause (more) financial strain on the family and that you will fail and that it’s a bad idea. Do it anyway. Cortney has repeatedly told you that he supports you and thinks this is the time to do it. Listen to him. He loves you and believes in you.
You’re going to incorporate more of your family’s faith into your every day lives. You just read a great book about this. Make a note to write a post about that book.
You’re going to get another tattoo (sorry mom. sort of.) Cortney gifted you half the cost for your birthday and you made the appointment and paid the 20% deposit. This will bring you such joy.
You’re going to spend quality one-on-one time with each kid. They tell other people how much they love it, so do it more. It’s important.
I know you worry a lot about time going to fast: it takes your babies and makes them toddlers; it takes your toddlers and makes them kids; it takes your own youth. You worry about not having enough time.
The truth is that you will never have enough time. It’s just not possible.
So you have to take what you’re given and do what you can with it.
It’s gonna be great. And a little terrible because that’s life. But mostly great.