27 October 2014

Aged Like Cheese

I just turned 35, and I wish I could feel like this about it:

"I am strong!  I am fierce!  I can do anything!" (I love, love, love that face!)

But mostly, I feel like this:

"Don't hurt me! Don't ask me to do anything hard! I'm tired."

When I turned 30, I remember jogging down the street in Wellington, New Zealand, thinking about thirty.  Thirty years old.  It didn't seem old.  It didn't feel old.

This morning, I thought about 35.  Why does it feel so much older?  I can look at some of the other leaders in my Young Women's group, mothers themselves, and remember the year they were born.  I have to make conscientious clothing choices so I don't look like I'm trying to be younger than I am.  Or older.  Mostly, it's just a general feeling that I don't know what I'm doing, and I'm afraid of doing it wrong.

I'm not old.  Not even middle aged, but I'm no longer a young person.  It's an adjustment.

*** Just a word about the pictures I used.  My husband wanted to make vinyl art for the kids' bedrooms and came up with those.  The first was originally Calvin, from Calvin and Hobbes, but then my husband put my older son's hair and dimples on it.  It's genius.  The second picture looks like this in its entireity:

It's from the Dr. Seuss book "Fox in Socks".  The tweedle beetles.  My husband gave them light sabers instead of paddles so he wasn't breaking copyright laws.  Isn't he brilliant?

Gush.  Gush.

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