This weekend I turned 40 and had a grand old time celebrating. It’s strange how 30 bothered me, but 40 is like my bitch. I guess when I turned 30 I hadn’t yet had children, I was trying to work to prove myself while finishing my MBA at night, I was always tired and felt like I hadn’t made my mark on the world yet. After all, my long term goals that I wrote when I was 22 included my being COO of a major company, making a seven figure salary and getting those D cups I always promised myself.
So now I am 40, I got a couple of kids sucking the life out of me daily and I am pretty much unemployed. Most days I don’t shower until 2:00 unless I have an appointment and my long term goals include living through my girl’s teen years, being able to color my hair at least four times a year and hoping my husband doesn’t fall in love with his secretary (leaving me to have to start dating again). Those D cups I wished for? Well, at 40 I look at my chest and feel grateful that I won’t have to wear my bra on my waist in a few years.
I did have a wonderful party this weekend and enjoyed every minute of it. It was a luau and my husband, being one of the best cooks in the world, made lots of wonderful food. We decided to make it a family event so we had the kids running all over the place, sneaking coke instead of the mini waters and juice boxes intended for them, eating anything that appeared unhealthy and all of them getting a fair chance to get hurt and cry.
My special guest was a 10 year old party crasher that showed up, ate dinner, hit the piñata, chased the kids and left with a goody bag. He is a regular party crasher and I am not sure it would have been the same without him. He started showing up about a year ago every time we would have an outdoor BBQ or party and has kept showing up ever since. I remember the first time fondly, my husband and I were by the grill handing out hotdogs and hamburgers, he was the third kid in line, already manned with plate, napkin and fork. I watched my husband ask him what he wanted and put the meat on his plate as he walked away my husband turned with a big smile on his face and asked through his teeth, “Who the fuck was that?” I told him I have seen him around the neighborhood with the other kids and not quite sure who he is or where he came from. He disappeared that evening after it got dark and has been a regular party crasher ever since, I now look forward to it.
So I have to say, 40 feels pretty damn good. I have a great life, my family is happy and healthy and I am raising my kids in a community filled with the most wonderful people. I have a part-time job that I do from home and I get to volunteer at my children’s school. I don’t have to go much farther than my driveway if I want to enjoy happy hour and I can still scream “CAR!” while my kids dart back and forth across the road, without having to set my drink down. I even have time to exercise if I want, but let’s not push it.
At 40, I should probably revise my long-term goals again. I would like to get my girls to 18 without winding up in a nut house, I would like to have a conversation with my husband that doesn’t get interrupted and has at least one sentence that doesn’t involve the kids, I would like to work enough to fulfill me and still allow me to be here for my children, I would like to turn my blog into a column and I sincerely hope my party crasher shows up at my 50th party! He should be about 20 then, I can’t offer him a cocktail, but I can still give him a hotdog and a slice of cake!
So, here’s to 40 and to making it to 50 and being as happy as I am today in another ten years.