Age, smage. Reality is sometimes hard to swallow…

Funny this thing called age…

I turn 40 this year. I always tell people, “Birthdays are no big deal. Aging really doesn’t matter to me.” I have always THOUGHT that I meant that. I have said it with such conviction. But, now I’m recognizing that the old adage, “With age, comes wisdom” basically means I find myself eating the words of my youth all the time these days.

“Sure, I’m going to stay home. But, I’m still going to be me. I’ll get up and put makeup on every day and treat this as what it is, a job,” I’d told a coworker friend of mine who did not yet have children. I was pregnant with my first and a little scared about leaving the job I’d been consumed by for several years, but also determined to make my new job as mommy a success. I still remember the two of us light-heartedly joking about how it seems like so many stay-at-home moms let themselves go, don’t wear makeup, let their wardrobe dwindle to sweatpants and leggings. We just didn’t understand it at all.

I cringed even typing those words just now. You see, I just changed out of my sweatpants to go and pick up my kids at school. And, also? I forced myself to put on some makeup for the first time in maybe three days.

What I’ve learned now is that staying home with your kids is not only a job, but it is the hardest job ever. A job where you struggle to feel like you are ever going to feel successful, and there are no raises or promotions really. And, makeup? Well, that is the least of your worries when you have a baby crying non-stop, or you have 10 loads of laundry to do while you manage your website job that is supposed to be only five hours a week but is really at least 20 hours of unpaid work a week.

This past year, I have blogged less frequently. I have had spurts where I’ve tried to get back into this, but I think a lot of it has to do with a lot of family stresses that are going on. Things that I do not feel able or ready to share in blogland. This morning, I looked in my mirror as I was putting on makeup and I sighed as I felt that “age doesn’t matter” statement turning into something unpleasant rising up in my throat.

Oh. My. Wrinkles.

I couldn’t get over it. And, instead of happy crows feet and all the good kind of wrinkles–the ones that mark your laughter and happiness in life, the last year of my thirties has left me with lines much less becoming. I notice the now permanent worry wrinkles striping my forehead.

“I’d never inject poison into my face. Why you can’t even see her expression. Why do that to yourself?”

There I go again. I’m getting full eating all these words. I might not even need real food before much longer, as I can just fill up on all the statements I have spouted out over the past 20 years or so. Because, now? Truthfully, I would seriously consider Botox these days. If it would just lesson that deep crevasse between my two eyebrows? I would SO look into it.

“I want to figure out how to accept myself the way God made me. I want to earn my good figure by working out like crazy, so I feel proud of that.”

Chomp. There goes another one from just a few years ago even. In this day of “mommy lifts and tucks,” I find myself imagining having enough money to be able to drop down those dimes and get it done. I still love to work out, and believe in striving to be in the best shape my body can be. But, as my kids get older, it gets more and more difficult to schedule workout time and I also get more and more tired.

Suddenly, my weight starts creeping up and the battle to keep it down is so much harder. Gravity and age is working against me, friends. It’s actually plotting to destroy me, I think. Now, while I haven’t gone under the knife or needle, if I came upon a fortune or started working full-time again and sacked away several paychecks, I would not hesitate to at least look into it.

It makes me all wonder. What other words will I be eating during my 40s?

I tend to be a pretty open-minded person and I’m not one who spouts off my opinions right and left with no regard. But, if I’m having all of these lumps-in-my-throat moments from the things I said in my 20s and 30s, I can’t even imagine what kind of “wisdom” age has in store for me in the 40s and 50s.

Good old Father Time. The old devil. I bet he knew about this all along. And, I’ll just bet he is laughing his ass off at me about now…