Reflections from a Woman over Thirty

First of all, did I actually type those words in reference to MYSELF? Yes, I must face it, tomorrow, some time around 6 a.m. I will officially be OVER THIRTY. How did this happen you ask? The wrinkles around my eyes want to know too, so does my metabolism and any part of me that used to be at least two inches higher in altitude than it's current location on my body. Time, just time. Ok, so I'm only a bit over thirty. And somehow thirty now seems so young to me. Forty doesn't even seem as old as it did when I was 18 and just thinking of being forty was laughable. Is that why all of the 15-year-old high school girls look at me as though I may scold them as they giggle furiously wandering the aisles of Target on no particular mission, unlike myself, who has to buy diapers and garbage bags and toilet cleaner. "Poor old lady," they are thinking, "that will never happen to us". Ah, my little ones, time...but I don't tell them, because then I just sound like an old lady. Anna told me that her college roommate Maggie once said that she never wants to get excited about things like toilet cleaner, because then her life will feel meaningless and devoid of all that is fun and romantic (or something like that). To which I replied, "Yes, but Anna, Scotchbrite makes this unbelievable toilet scrubber that has THROW AWAY heads, you get it? You don't have to keep that mangey, nasty, germ-filled toilet bowl brush any longer! You get to throw it away....it's the greatest thing since the Swiffer!" Maggie must think I'm old.

The other thing I was thinking about as I lay trying to calm Bella this evening was how patient my Hubs is. I realized that starting in 1999 he has had to convince himself that one day we will have a relationship again. It was that year that I started school and he had to be patient, wait his turn for attention, because of all my schoolwork. Then before school was over came Gabby and Lord knows he's been all but ignored since the Princess of the house arrived. And just when Gabby was getting so we could have her sleeping before 10 p.m. and maybe have a 15 minute conversation, the twinkles were here and it's been chaos ever since. Poor Hubs, patiently he waits for his wife back. Please don't remind him that 20 years from now, when my attention can be at least partially focused back on the man I married, he will be gazing back at a woman over FIFTY. And does he think this woman will somehow remotely resemble my former self? He probably holds out hope, but at the current rate of droop and the way I'm popping out these babies, he's sure to be staring back at someone who reminds him of either that pruney neighbor lady with the yippy dog from "Something About Mary", or, if my candy intake keeps it's steady rate of increase while my metabolism continues on the downward trend, I may be more akin to the Snapple lady. Patience, my hubs.

I'd like to take this last paragraph to note that I'm pretty happy and I think the rest of the thirties are going to be even better than the twenties. If I didn't, I wouldn't be able to face the day tomorrow with enough energy to Swiffer my floors and clean my toilets. I thank God for my beautiful husband who makes this crazy life worth every crying, screaming, messy house, getting older moment.