What Is Happening?

On the wall at home hangs a picture of my guy and I, about 8 and bit years ago. Our faces are so fresh, we look rested and full of energy, teeth sparkling and smiles for days.

Fast forward:

Sometimes we look at that picture and can’t keep it together. Laughing hysterically! Those are not the same faces we see today. What is happening?

Seriously though… aging starts in your 30’s. When you look ‘older’ in your 20’s it’s a good thing. Look at me more mature and stuff. But when your skin is pasty and dark circles are a face staple, not so cool anymore.

And my skin breakouts. The guy has hair in his ears. Things are a little droopier than last decade. I get it, I do. And aging gracefully has always been an ultimate goal of mine. It’s just the newness of this experience. Not new and fun but new and scary. Times like these I’m glad that I’m almost too tired to care.

Coffee is necessary. Mid day napping would be pretty amazing if I could manage to learn to do that. I’m only productive until 12pm. Steady decline after that. Money spent on creams, more money, less money. Do any of them help? To botox or not? Cellulite treatments, all to often hair apts to cover those white hairs. Nothing prepares you for this.

Where is the 30’s manual!



The 30’s, An Introduction

I can remember being a teenager, a twenty-something, feeling the glamour of what it meant to be those ages. Totally self-absorbed, little to average responsibility, fresh face, more than my share of energy, and the feeling that anything was possible.

I also think about what people say about getting older. “When a woman hits 40, she just fits into her skin”!  “50’s are when real life starts”.  “60’s, you enjoy the fruits of your labour”… It dawned on me as of late that no one ever speaks about the 30’s. And it occurred to me quite frightfully that maybe it was because they block it out as a form of self preservation. Or just, they were too tired and barely remember that decade at all. All very possible answers, and very likely realities.

I never questioned myself in my 20’s. Even if I didn’t know what I was doing, which must of been often. I wasn’t a teenager anymore so I suppose I had those years of training to ease me into what it meant to be a twenty-something.  Perhaps one decade trains for the next.

When I hit 30 a few years ago… it was fun. I at that point had 2 kids, one on the way. I lived comfortably, had a loving partner, all the luxuries of life. I was already ahead of the game. We never found the transition form 1 to 2 girls an issue. And sheer arrogance made us think that a third would be a breeze since well, we were so good at parenting obviously.

Fast forward 5 years (almost), and I’ve never been so tired in all my life. I ask Google things daily. I wonder how I’m allowed to be an adult. I wonder what prep course or introductory seminar I must of missed. I alternate between blaming my parents for not equipping me with the right life skills and between my endless nights at the ‘club’. I wonder if my kids will need therapy. I wonder if my husband thinks half the things I think about him (in my head), and that terrifies me and makes me laugh. Then I wonder if I’m going crazy. Cry, extreme happiness, despair, contentment, love, love, love, love, anger, love, exhaustion. Roller coaster of emotions. Then the sun shines through the window and all is well. I look in the mirror and notice some new lines that I don’t appreciate. The kids go to a playdate and I miss them and know without question that I would never have it any other way.

Stop, rewind, start again.

to be continued…