Every time I look at my hair, there are a few more gray strands. When I smile, there are a few more wrinkles at the corners of my eyes. It seems like it hasn’t been that long ago since I graduated from high school, but when I actually stop to think about it, my graduation was quite a while ago. Not everyone had computers, no one had cell phones, and boyfriends were still making mixed tapes for their girlfriends. My parents gave me an electric Smith-Corona typewriter to take with me to college, and I loved that typewriter. I typed out many papers on that trusty typewriter. It even had auto-correct!
About the same time I was typing out papers, Ed began working at the company he still works for. He’s worked there for 25 years, and we had a little celebration for him last week. The girls bought their Daddy a balloon and I made tacos for dinner. Taco night is Ed’s favorite!
A salesman came to the door the next day, saw the sign that Lily hung on the door, and said, “Someone must be retiring!” Nope. Ed is not close to retiring, especially since we have two girls who we hope will go to college in a few years. Someone needs to work on her spelling if she is college-bound, however.
Those pesky numbers: our ages, our high school reunion years, our number of years working, make us feel old. Our two little girls, however, keep Ed and me young. Their favorite toys are still their stuffed animals. They love watching My Little Pony and singing to the Frozen soundtrack. Tonight, they begged me to take them to the park, even though it was only 50 degrees outside. Brr! They have an enthusiasm that is contagious, even in chilly weather. They make me do things that I might not otherwise do at the old age of 45. Going down the slide? Check! Swinging on the swingset? Check! Rollerblading at the roller rink? Check! A friend of mine (a younger friend, I might add) tells me that my age is just a number.
Right now, at this age, I am the happiest that I’ve ever been. I have a happy marriage, I have two beautiful children who are becoming self-sufficient and yet still love to snuggle, and I have a job that I love. 45 is a good age to be.
Emmy said it best when she wrote for Mother’s Day, “My mom is special because she is who she is and I love her.”
Do you feel your age? Link up your posts here, and be sure to visit my co-host Gretchen to read her thoughts on aging!