If this is it . . . please let me know.

My tag line no doubtfully now has Huey Lewis & The News now stuck in your mind (give it a minute). But I've been doing a lot of thinking lately and when I came across this blog post I couldn't help but think wow. Some of the points are right and some not so much just for me. The blog was called "This Is 38. This Is Midlife". The author says:

Thirty-eight is solidly in the middle of my life. Thirty-eight is realizing that there are likely as many years behind me as there are ahead. It is acknowledging that life is no longer a green field, that certain doors are closed, that some choices are irrevocable and that many of the big what-ifs that haunted my childhood have been answered. Thirty-eight is also realizing that despite these answers, there are far, far more new questions.

Thirty-eight is new lines at the sides of my eyes and mouth. From smiling, maybe, but still.

Thirty-eight is wearing my wedding ring all the time, and my engagement ring only rarely. 

Thirty-eight is not knowing which band was my wedding band and which my husband gave me on the day our daughter was born, because they are identical. I don't think it matters. Thirty-eight is wearing my mother's wedding ring for a time, when she was unable to. Thirty-eight is knowing that one of my favorite pictures from our long-ago wedding shows that I wore my grandmother's ring on my right hand when I walked down the aisle.

Thirty-eight is realizing that certain shorts and skirts are now just too short. Thirty-eight is wondering if this is the summer to put away the bikinis.

Thirty-eight is thirteen years of marriage. It is knowing all the ways that marriage is both less and more than I thought it was, when I walked into a church wearing white and hearing thunder. Less score-keeping, less candlelight, less drama. More small acts of kindness, more forgiveness, more abiding. Fewer flowers, but more cups of coffee made exactly how I like them, without being asked, brought to me in bed in the morning.

Thirty-eight is realizing that my lifetime passion for peonies probably has something to do with their life span, which is as short as it is spectacular. It can't be an accident that I love best of all the flowers that blaze more brightly and most briefly.

Thirty-eight is not having any more grandparents. It is hearing about the illness and death of my friends' parents. It is going to funerals, and also christenings, more often than weddings. Thirty-eight was leaving my injured mother's side before surgery a couple of years ago to run home to my daughter, who was crying that I wasn't spending enough time with her. Thirty-eight is the middle place.

Thirty-eight is knowing who your friends are, for real, for certain. It is understanding that though there will be a small handful of true native speakers, it is OK for many friends to access only certain parts of you. These friendships, while different, can offer great joy, deep laughter and tremendous companionship. Thirty-eight is still learning that not everybody will like you, no matter what you do.

Thirty-eight is drinking homemade green juice and Diet Coke most days. It is developing a taste for kombucha, and drinking coffee with coconut milk and xylitol. It is drinking wine still, but not as much, because I'd rather sleep and I've realized that alcohol interferes with that.

Thirty-eight is finding that each year she grows more sensitive, more aware of life's beauty and pain, more attuned to the world around her. Thirty- eight cries every single day, and laughs that much too (see: lines on my face).

Thirty-eight is in the heart of the grand love affair that is motherhood, both smitten by and exasperated by her daughter and son. Thirty-eight is watching, awestruck, as these children develop into people in whom bloom traits uncomfortably familiar and absolutely foreign in equal measure. Thirty-eight reads Harry Potter aloud, packs lunches, drives to and from soccer and hockey and baseball practices and games (see photo), plans surprise adventure outings and can still make a bruised knee feel better with a kiss.

Thirty-eight is its own kind of phosphorescence. Different than ten's ephemeral incandescence, but no less dazzling and no less fleeting. Just like 10, just like life itself, 38 is bewilderingly beautiful, maddeningly confusing, achingly bittersweet and vanishingly transient.
 
Here is my spin on 38:

To start I'm am closer to 39 than 38 but I don't feel like I'm midlife yet and I'm certainly not having a midlife crisis. I plan to live well into my late 80s or God hoping 90s provided I'm not in a diaper, in a nursing home and can't remember my daughter. B-man says he's going to outlive me so he better take good care of me when I'm older. I agree that certain doors in my life are closed or closing and I have to accept that. I have one event this month that is a significant door closing and truthfully it is very hard for me to accept that. I still cry at the thought of it.

 
Thirty-eight is noticing the brown spots on the side of my face and that my hands look older. I don't have my grandmother's hands but still they are not as smooth as they use to be. I might have crows feet forming but I haven't noticed them yet.

Thirty-eight is explaining to my daughter (as she is playing with my rings) that one day she will get to keep my engagement ring which in turn makes me think of my mom's engagement ring (that my sister has). I have my grandmother's engagement ring and I've been debating on having it reset into a necklace for Smiley.

Thirty-eight is realizing that I can't really wear shorts anymore and that some skirts are just too short for anyone.

Thirty-eight is focusing even more on my hair. Length, style, cut and of course how many grey hairs there are. I have been "changing" colors since I was 18 (thank you genetics) and with my hair being dark brown those little buggers show up really bad. I've been using the wash out dyes for a few years now but I'm noticing I have to use them more and more. Trying to put off the full head dye job for a while longer. NO I am not going to let it go naturally. Again I'm only 38.

Thirty-eight is six years of marriage. It is knowing that romance isn't wine, roses and candles every night. It really is the little things. Surprise goodies from the grocery store. Letting each other watch the TV program they want. Asking if it is O.K. before planning an activity (knowing that permission isn't required, but it still nice if they check with you in case you had plans already).

Thirty-eight is not having any more grandparents. It is hearing about the illness and death of my friends' parents. It is going to funerals. Thirty-eight is feeling and acting like the grownup when life gets hard for friends and family.

Thirty-eight is laughing at the stories that teenagers and early 20 somethings tell about how life is "sooo hard". Hearing them talk about their part time job and now having bills to pay or a 6 page paper to write for school. LOL ahhh the good ole days. I really do find myself telling those kids to enjoy it now because being an adult sucks sometimes. Be a kid as long as you can.

Thirty-eight is knowing that I know a lot of people but I don't have a lot of close friends. I can be a very guarded person (some people translate that into I'm a snob or a witch [insert the B]) thanks to things that have happened in my past so I don't open up all the way to everyone. I have some tried and true friends that I know I can call at any time to talk with. I treasure those people and they will always be in my life. Thirty-eight is accepting that not everyone will like you and being O.K. with that.

Thirty-eight is knowing that I can't stay up past 11 pm anymore without being wiped out and sleeping in is 8:00 in the morning. Sigh I miss the days of staying up to 2 and getting up at noon. LOL. I just can't do it anymore. Heck I put Smiley to bed each night and then I'm off to bed myself not to long after that. Whew. Don't be jealous!

Thirty-eight is sitting on the couch watching my 2 1/2 year old play and be completely amazed at the little person she has become and wondering where that little baby went. Wondering more about making her future solid than anything else in the world. Trying to find ways to keep her entertained and challenged. Hoping things come more naturally and easily for her than they did for me. Praying she gets the best of her father and her mother. Laughing when she does something or acts just like me. I've used the phrase "she comes by it honestly" too much lately it is scary.

Thirty-eight is playing the lottery regularly and plotting out how I will spend the money (buy x type of house; put x amount away for college; pay off bills; putting money aside to grow interest so you never have to work again unless you want to; the trips I would take; a small business I would like to start). Sadly its all logical ways to spend money. Sadly the most I have ever won was $5. 

Thirty-eight is thinking to myself so is this all that my life is cracked up to be? I had imagined when I was approaching 40 that I would have be in a very different place. I'd be wealthier (not a richie rich but still have more income). I'd be in a modest house with my family (husband, 2 kids and at least 1 dog). I've got the family to include one child and one dog (who sadly is 14 and i know won't be with us for many more years) but I'm in a townhouse that I expected would be a starter kind of place not a long term place. I'd have traveled more (across the U.S. and abroad). I'd be more active than I am. I don't know I just expected more from my life at this point in time.

I guess that's what makes us all scared of growing older, we don't really know what to expect because we have ideas of what life will be like at x age and when you get there, surprise it isn't everything you expected. Maybe its just me.