I turn 40 this year. I have been dreading it a little bit, because this is the culturally expected norm, and it seems the accepted thing to do.  I am officially not young anymore.  I’m not really OLD, either, though—which is good, but also kind of bugs me, because I am really looking forward to being the cranky old lady who swears too much and doesn’t give a rat’s arse about what the church people and neighbors think.  Of course, my attitude may be slightly ahead of schedule…

At any rate, I have decided to declare this year my mid-life crisis year, and do some of the random things I have always thought of doing “someday” or haven’t considered because KEEPING UP APPEARANCES. I don’t have a bucket list, per se, and most of the things I want to do are pretty mundane. and not stereotypical of midlife crises. I have decided not to take a lover, for example. But, letting my kid draw all over her bedroom wall? Sure, why not?

Most of my midlife crisis will likely be acquiescing to my limitations rather than fighting against them. I’m tired of fighting the inevitable. A few months ago, I quit dyeing my hair to cover the gray, and when I came back from the salon today, my kids were visibly relieved that I merely cut it. “I’m glad you’re back to your natural color,” my 17 year old daughter tells me, “you looked kind of scary when you dyed your hair.”  My fifteen year old son agreed. “When you dyed your hair, you sort of looked like you were trying too hard.” The knotheads.  But, they were right. While I miss having the well defined, expressive eyebrows that coloring gave me, I am cool with my fading red hair.

 

(Farewell, eyebrows. Hello, new-old me!)

I spent the first part of this year decluttering the house as part of a Lenten challenge. I don’t even celebrate Lent, but I have thoroughly enjoyed off loading a bunch of junk.  Sentimental items I’ve kept for decades really hold no meaning to me anymore, and I had to laugh at some of the things I’ve held onto. She-Ra paper dolls, anyone? Since Lent and the challenge are over, I’ve quit the laser focus decluttering, but I have developed a habit of picking up things as I move about the house and getting rid of whatever I am tired of moving from place to place. There is still a lot of stuff I’d like to get rid of and downsize, so I will likely continue to move them slowly, but steadily out of my home and out of my life.

I am reading more now than I have in the previous few years.  Most books I’ve read in the last seven years have centered on educational philosophy and other non-fiction. I have plowed through several novels since January and it feels so indulgent. When reading fiction, I feel the same way I do when eating a dessert while trying to lose weight. “I am so bad. I should be making better choices.” Nom, nom, nom. Check out this great reimagining of a romance novel cover, by The Wonderful World of Longmire:

Oh, but there’s more!

I am also bingeing on my favorite movies and TV shows—because I can.  Folding laundry is fun again. Yes, again.

I am tired of making goals and chasing dreams. I’m not done doing those things, I’m just taking a breather, a sabbatical, if you will. My midlife crisis year is a season of comfort and rest, rather than pursuing the elusive essence of whatever.  I’m settling in and looking forward to being fat and happy.

My eldest child just got her driver’s license. My husband and I had to kind of push her into getting it, because she was perfectly content to sit shot-gun and read novels while I did all the driving, but, now she’s got it.  I wonder at her hesitancy to venture to the edge of the nest. She wants to be treated like a grown up, but she also still wants to be a kid.  She’s responsible and quite mature in some ways, but in others, she is still very, very young.  I find it both endearing and a little annoying that she still wants to throw herself across me on the couch and have me scratch her back. This is a very strange phase of parenting to navigate. 

 

I realized the other day, that I am truly out of the “little kid” stage.  My youngest child is six.  She can do most things on her own. Yet, she too, still wants to sit in my lap and be read to.The similarities between the six year old, and my seventeen year old are striking.  They both want to be big, but they both want to be little. 

Homeschooling has given me the unique opportunity to really SEE and experience my kids’ growth and development.  When I was a new homeschooler eight years ago, I asked a veteran homeschooling mama what the best curriculum was. She replied, “Let them be little.” Thinking she was referring to some kind of method book, I pressed for more details.  She replied, “Kids grow up so fast. Don’t be in a hurry to get them there. It comes soon enough.” She wasn’t kidding, though I didn’t really believe her at the time.  The days are long, but the years really are short!