I have no clever title, my creative energy is spent

I've had a dozen different half-thoughts flee in and out of my brain today. Things tend to flee out faster than in, for me.


I've been thinking a lot about the aging process. I'm 30. My age has almost become meaningless to me. I don't feel old, I don't feel young, I feel nothing. This is big for me. I have loved every age I have ever been. And the birthday that has accompanied it. If there is one thing you should know about me, above all else, I love my birthday. I have loved every age except for 9 and 25. Nine was dreadfully dull and 4th grade was just more tedium than I could handle. 25 was depressing and I spent it in my childhood bedroom crying or trying to make myself cry because I felt it was the best way to express myself on that day. My mom slid a birthday card under my door, so not to disturb my pity party of one. This still makes me laugh. That's a woman who understands that women are impossible to understand.

When my friend Traci turned 31 last Fall, I asked her how it felt. She wrote, "31 feels like thirty, except I think it means that I am even more officially termed a “woman.” They don’t say, “A 31-year-old girl saved twelve people from rolling away with a tumbleweed” in news reports. Nope, they would call me a woman if I did anything heroic like that."

I laughed, and then surprisingly, this comment has made me think about that change from girl to woman, a lot. When I go somewhere and forget that I'm bigger than I was even 5 years ago, (I don't mean to belabor the point of my weight guys, I'm not obsessive, much, but it does factor in) and have a little bit more worn face, and inevitably have some kind of branding of motherhood on my clothing, (if not just the clothing alone) and then I hear myself say something cutesy or witty that would be better suited coming from a young, slender, carefree 20-something chick, and see the bewilderment on the 17-year-old kid handing me my change, and suddenly I feel 30. And suddenly that number means something. That is OLD to a 17 year old. It's true, I'm not a girl anymore. It's woman from here on out.

What really gets me is, here I am 30, often sludging through a day with matted hair in a pony-tail, a shower my ultimate goal, kids clinging to my ankles, or trying to kick them (what is that? Suddenly my 3 year old needs to punctuate every statement with a swift kick to my shin? "I want some cheese!" *FWAP*), counting calories, wishing that since somebody else made me fat, someone else could make me skinny, stressing about the balance line on our budget and wondering why Wal-mart a stone's throw away(literally, even if you throw like a girl) has made that balance line impossible to keep in the black, tired, engaging perpetually in household tasks that just undo themselves in a quarter of the time it took to do them, and writing impossibly long run-ons in my blog, that may or may not have a predicate (something I learned in 4th grade, along with the definition of a linking verb---both have taken me far in life).

And old people, as in, over 65 (yes, when I'm 60, that will be young to me too) say, "enjoy these times, they just fly by" and "these are the best years, enjoy them while you can". An older woman said this to me today. She was at the pool, out sunbathing her very tanned and tight body, watching her grandsons (that she gets to return when she's done) swim. I on the other hand was lathered so thickly in layer upon layer of SPF 175, wearing a bathing suit that covered so much, I'd make a flapper look scandalous, and barking at Ben every 20 seconds not to drink the pool water, not to pee in the pool water, then to stay in the water, and not splash it all out of the pool, and not to steal other kids water toys, and then not to spray other kids in the face with the water toys he just stole from them...

Am I just the same 10 year old girl who can't wait to be 11, because we all know what joy the age 11 brings? I don't wish I was older, but I admit, at times I wish my kids were. For example, when Ben's four, all kinds of responsibilities will be shifted. One can't help but to look forward to that. And although it hasn't been openly discussed, I'm sure that soon both Jay and I will be coup d'état-ed because Avery's just about one inch and a couple of gutteral consonant sounds away from putting us out on our weak, sorry, permissive, non-authoritarian-enough batooties. I can see it in her eyes

I do love so much about my life, but I think I'm often living like it's a stage I just need to get through. But maybe that's wrong. If these are in fact the best years, I really should be reveling in that a bit more, wouldn't you think

So, how do you feel about your age? Does losing weight or maintaining a figure and looking good really get harder the older you get? My slender and beautiful 70 year old mother makes that completely unbelievable for me. If you're older, I'd like to know. If you are my age, is how I feel common? If you're younger, why are you reading this blog, surely you have better things to do with your still attractive and youthful self.

Today while I was pilfering through drawers and baskets, looking for nonexistent scotch tape, I came across a picture that left me feeling both sad and very happy at the same time. I was a bit sad for that youthful innocence, and sad that such lovely red hair was ever forced to hold such an unforgivable mullet. And I was happy because, there are good things that come with being 30 and not 7. My mother doesn't cut my hair anymore and I've grown into my teeth.

And a coupla "things" I'm glad to be 30 to have...