Friday, September 12, 2008

Forty somethin' somethin'

Being forty somethin' somethin' (which is less than forty somethin' btw) has it's perks, but those same perks can really bum me out sometimes.

For instance, the other night I was waiting in line at Sears to buy my twins new church pants for their 10th birthday and a woman in front of me was bouncing an adorable, but restless newborn. Even though I enjoy things she doesn't enjoy right now--like sleep and sanity and clean clothes--she enjoys something I'll never enjoy again. At thirty that thought never crossed my mind, but at forty that thought bums me out.

At the cash register was a young girl in a teensy tank top and hot pants, with long, brown, blemish-free legs.

At thirty I would have thought to myself, For only a gallon of self-tanner, a daily 10-mile run, and a lazer gun for my spider veins, I too could look like that. But at forty I sigh and think, These legs will have to do.

There was a cute little family at the front of the line. The cute little boy, no more than five, was sitting on the floor next to the T-shirt display reading a cute little book. Before long a cute little girl with cute little pig-tails was next to him reading along. Their super hot dad kept nuzzling his face into the neck of their super hot mom, and then he'd look into her eyes with a twinkle. The super hot mom would grin in turn and do a little shimmy.

At thirty I might have thought, My next child will read books instead of playing cowboys and indians under the clothing racks. I also might have thought, My next husband will twinkle and nuzzle! But at forty I sigh and think, These kids and this husband will have to do.

It's a perk . . . but it sometimes bums me out. See what I mean?

Right before the cute little family reached the register, the children got slightly restless and the little boy politely ditched his sister. When the little girl skipped up to her twinkling dad and tugged on his pant leg saying Daddy, Brayden won't let me read with him, and the little boy tugged on his grinning mom's purse saying, Mommy, Bailey won't stop copying me, the super hot mom's head suddenly spun around 3 times and her eyes began shooting flames.

SIT DOWN . . . NOW! she commanded.

Both of the cute little children dropped to the floor and resumed reading in perfect harmony.

For some reason that cheered me up considerably.


The Rogers Family said...

alway brillant, creative, insightful, and somtimes funny... Stephen

Jami said...

Lovely post. Yes indeed. At forty (forty-one on Wednesday) I feel your resignation. At fifty I'll look back and think how good I looked, how cute the kids were, how fun it was when my sweetie had hair. I try to think that now, just to save myself the pangs later.