
Last night, I laid in bed tossing and turning, body-tired, brain-wired...unable to fall asleep. My mind went back to a conversation earlier in the day that I never finished with a friend. We were discussing the difference in being pregnant in your 30s. I remembered my sister saying over the years how much different her last pregnancy was compared to the previous three when she had been in her 20s. And then, of course, my mind went to ME and MY age. I'm not just in my 30s...I'm pushing 40!
I kinda started to freak out. 40? I will be 40 in a few short years!?!! I was starting to feel really old right about then, like my life was spiraling out of control and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I tried to calm myself by realizing that my mother had me when she was in her 40s...42, to be exact. My dad was 44. And suddenly it hit me. 40 isn't old. I didn't even KNOW my parents when they were 40. How funny is that?
The first birthday that I remember my dad having was when he turned 50. He was in Tortola helping to build a house. So we didn't actually to celebrate that big day with him. We just heard about the pineapple piiiieee he was served for the next 20 years.
The first birthday that I remember my mom having was when she turned 54. I remember my sister teaching all the grandkids something about "Grandma being 54, she must have rode a dinosaur." Mom was NOT pleased.
So no, 40 isn't old.
I'll let you know how 50 looks in about 10 years.
