49

So this is happening.

I’m working hard at being okay with getting older. I’m practicing telling myself I’m 50, in hopes that when I actually turn 50 next year, it will feel normal.

Because it seems bizzare to me that I’m 50. I mean, I’m not, I’m still technically 48, but 49 is tomorrow, and I might as well jump to 50. I don’t FEEL any differently. Not really. I can see where I’m different. More confident. Less eager for approval. More aware of my own ability to handle whatever it is.

I’m very conscious of what I’ve accomplished, what I still want to do. I’ve raised a daughter, I’m coming to the last gasp of raising my son and I’m in the second half of raising my baby. Have I done it perfectly? No. And thank goodness, I’m not done, not at all. But I can watch Jessica move into the world, loving her so much and being so incredibly impressed and delighted to have the opportunity to be her mother. I can see where Sam is going, and know how hard he’s worked, how much he’s overcome, how much of an impact I’ve had, as a mother, on his life. I can see what’s still ahead with Julie, as she comes into herself and be so grateful for her, for the gift of being her mother. Being their mother has been the best part of my life, and I’m always, always going to consider it to be the biggest and most important role I have.

I look at my marriage. This incredibly safe, secure place that we’ve built for each other, with a man who is always on my side, always thinking about what’s best for our family. I’ve never doubted his commitment to me, to the family we’ve created, and I’m achingly aware, tonight, on the cusp of my 49th birthday, how profoundly that impacts everything else about my life.

So, 49. Or 50. It’s… okay. I can do this. My forehead is pretty much always a little bit wrinkled now, and I’ve still got six or seven grey hairs. And there’s a weird vericose vein in my left leg that bugs me. My knees ache, I get heartburn a lot. But I’m overall in pretty good health. I still fit into the same size clothes I wore in high school. I’ve lost the ability to drive in the snow – or rather, I’ve got too much experience about how bad it can be driving in the snow and don’t do it anymore.