Craig's 50th birthday was yesterday. It's a little crazy to think about, if I'm being honest. I mean, I knew when I married a guy six years older that it would be a little strange for him to hit milestones like these quite a bit ahead of me. In fact, I remember back as far as college when my four-years-older brother was hitting certain ages and stages (back when 25 seemed so old, haha) that it was sort of mind-boggling to me how he could be at legit adult ages, and now I have a husband who's hitting milestones two years ahead of him! Craig has never really seemed his age, and I think if he had more hair (sorry, Craig) he'd be fooling even more people.
I realized the other day that his 30th was when we were engaged and his 40th was when I was pregnant with Carter, so we've definitely hit these milestone birthdays at very different stages of life. That we even have a history that long sort of amazes me on a regular basis. How are we hitting our 20th wedding anniversary in a little over six months? That seems like something for old people. But years ago I would have definitely said 50 is old, so...here we are. At this point, especially as far as Craig is concerned, 50 is just a number...but lately certain things associated with numbers pertaining to age have blown my mind a little.
We just talked the other day about how Craig's dad was only in his early 50s when he had his first heart attack. Luckily he has defied the odds over the years with a lot of health issues and is alive and kicking at 75. His Uncle Mike was equally far too young in his early 50s when he passed eight years ago, and I had an uncle pass around that same age 25 years ago. Those sorts of things hit a little too close to home now that the love of my life is entering that decade.
I was talking with someone the other day about how our grandparents were all old even when they were young. They always looked old. Luckily the generation that followed has aged differently and seem far younger at the same ages, but now that it's our parents, aunts, and uncles at those ages, the younger appearance probably provides a false sense of security since we know that so many people who pass are well within the next 10 years or less of their current ages. It's sort of crushing, so I'm trying to be conscious of savoring this time with that generation without letting the fear of the not-so-distant future bring me down.
At the other end of the spectrum, I look at myself with two big kids and sort of marvel at how far we've come. How did I get here already, only shopping in big kid and now even adult sections, slowly moving out of the toy-filled Christmases, and being so far removed from the baby era? Working in an office is sort of interesting because you work with people of all ages--from young adults barely out of college to seasoned grandparents, and everything in between. You seem like equals as colleagues but then realize that we're in such different places in our personal lives. Over the time I've been in the working world, I've steadily moved from the young one to the married one, then from one kid to two, but suddenly I'm getting into the upper echelon of parenthood. My cubicle mate is having a baby in a few months, and a new teammate has a new baby. That is so long ago for me now--Carter will be 10 in two months--and I've suddenly become an experienced parent among our group. I see myself with a legit teenager who towers over me and needs to shave periodically (!) and almost don't know how it happened. I see pictures of toddler Carter and can't believe that cutie is now in 4th grade. Time flies with kids, faster and faster the older we all get, but all of a sudden you come out from the kid exhaustion fog and you're firmly on the downslope of the minor child experience. We're now far closer to sending them off into the world than we are to the beginning. It's bizarre.
Sometimes I don't feel much different than the awkward teenager I once was, so seeing a 44-year-old face looking at me--complete with lines and wrinkles and developing jowls--catches me off-guard sometimes. And I'm a lucky one--I do still look pretty young. Just the other day a colleague couldn't believe my age. We have worked in the same office for years but rarely have interacted, but due to a couple of random scenarios over the past couple weeks we've chatted more. She was shocked when I mentioned having a 14-year-old and swore I was in my mid-30s. After years of being annoyed I looked so young, it's finally paying dividends!
The other day I caught myself wondering what my 20-something self, or even my early-30s, young-mom self would think of mid-40s me. I mean, I'm rocking the skinny jeans and leggings, sometimes dressing cuter and trendier than I did years ago. I have long hair again and I sometimes even know what to do with it! I feel like a far different person than the short-haired, trying-to-be-mature, dressing-my-age young mom I see in pictures from when Jacob was a toddler. Maybe I'm just telling myself I'm looking young as a means of keeping my sanity as I age, but I legitimately think I'm doing pretty well. Though I do find myself questioning at what point acting young gets awkward. As much as I want to cheer for the 60-something women that dress sexy, I still look at it and think it's a little odd. Good for them to pull it off, but something about it sometimes seems off to me. But then I think, why am I being judgy if they're happy? I guess I'm personally trying to find some happy medium between holding on to your youthful side but also embracing the stage of life you're in, in preparation for getting to that point myself and not wanting to embarrass myself. No, you don't have to be the gray-haired grandma knitting in a corner, but maybe posting on IG before going clubbing with 20-year-olds in a mini-skirt is a bit much. It feels like trying to hold on to a past that has passed you by, but I guess if it works for you and judgments don't bother you, go for it. I know perspective changes as you get older and enter into those stages, where it feels normal to you even if others might look at you funny. We probably all mostly feel younger than we thought we'd feel at a particular age, at least based on how older people at those ages seemed to us at the time.
For example, I look at my mom whose face has always looked young and feel like her hair and clothes, especially through the 80s and 90s, aged her in a different way. I feel like previous generations accepted certain looks as rites of passage as they aged. Certain hairstyles or clothing styles were just "what you did" at a certain age. My grandmas' poofy short-haired perms and mid-calf, belted dresses; my mom's 80s power suits with giant shoulder pads and of course the mom jeans; those seasonal screenprinted sweatshirts with faux golf shirt collars...things like that were just what you aged into. Now it seems most of us are fighting tooth and nail to look as young and yet classic as possible. I was staring down a family picture of us from when my mom was a couple years younger than I am now--I was probably around Jacob's age at the time--and admittedly, her face probably had even fewer lines and spots than I have now. But her mature attire and short hair made her look older than I do now. It's just weird--almost to the point I can't compare things at all because her style was so much different. Yet in her 20s she was super hip and sexy, with hot pants and curve-enhancing dresses, so she certainly evolved. I did too, but sometimes I think I went through a purposeful grown-up phase and now I'm regressing a bit. Ha. At least I won't let myself shop in the juniors section anymore unless I'm looking for a specific wardrobe basic that they always seem to have, like a layering cami tank or leggings.
It's just so strange to me how my age feels different at any given moment. Sometimes I feel younger and want to deny that I'm at the age where I need reading glasses and need to start really watching my body for anything to be amiss. Some days I feel every bit of my age, whether it's unexpected soreness from a workout (or, you know, sleeping funny) or feeling like the wise parent who can dole out advice to the newbie. It's amazing how it can vary each day, or even through parts of the day depending on the context. I feel like I have experienced so much now after 4-1/2 decades that there's always something to look back on, relate to, or compare to, and some of those things transport me right back to younger stages in life, which only adds to my surprise when I once again realize how old I am and how much life I've lived.
Life is passing by so quickly these days and I hate that my enjoyment of it has been interrupted by what feels like endless survival mode--be it the daily routines of work and household tasks, or worrying about what illness or frustration might show up next, or yet another evening spent yelling at the kids to stop torturing one another. I know I've missed a lot of beauty in the little moments over the years because I was too darn tired or overwhelmed to see it, and it stinks because you can't get those moments back. But I guess as life moves along, you realize which stages were shorter and sweeter. You recall as many good memories as you can, but inevitably you regret not appreciating them more in the moment. I'm not sure how to fix that but I guess I'm thankful I'm at least aware of it. I'm trying so hard to savor what I can because it becomes clearer to me every day that time is passing quickly and we'll be moving on to new phases before we know it. Craig's 50th doesn't really change anything in our day-to-day, but it's another vivid reminder of how quickly we're moving through these stages. The last 20 years--full and fulfilling as they've been--have felt so fast, and I don't even want to think about where 20 more years leaves us. It's overwhelming, so I'm trying to take things day-by-day, but if the past is any indication, it'll be here before we know it. Yikes.
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