Coming of Age, Again

So, it’s 11:30PM again.  The only sounds in the house are the rustling of sheets, soft snores and the occasional crash of a bedtime story book being accidently kicked to the floor.  It’s finally my turn to go to bed. 

Sometimes in the calm quietness of these late nights I get distracted from my bedtime routine by the bright over-mirror light highlighting my facial imperfections in the mirror.  I just recently noticed my once smooth forehead now sports the most delicate parallel lines across it.  I raise my eyebrows up and down and watch them deepen and flatten, but not quite disappear. Dang it.

Once in a while I spend so much time inspecting my puckering face that when I lay down to go to sleep, I realize that I forgot to brush my teeth, and back to the bathroom I go.

It’s my birthday this week, the “cute” half of the thirties is firmly behind me, and I’m sliding face first into forty faster than I am prepared for.  Why does 36 seem young and 37 seem so, so old?

To accentuate my new found oldness, my daughter’s 4^th grade class recently got “the talk” from the school nurse.  She’s been fascinated with the idea of puberty since she first learned about the concept last year.  This milestone event at school has re-ignited her interest in the topic.  

Seeing my little girl grow into a little woman as I’m slowly pruning from the head down, feels a little bit like taunting at my new ripe old age.  Don’t be surprised if you see me splashing water from muddy puddles in the area on my face hoping to find that the fountain of youth is somewhere in the Meadowlands area. Bog water ought to be good for something!

Maybe waiting on full blown wrinkles is like waiting for boobs.  Looking for them consumes your time in front of the mirror, until they show up and it’s no big deal.

But in case it’s not like that, and wrinkles end up being a devastating occurrence, I decided to come up with some reasons turning 37 might be great anyway:

1. No more wasting time at the liquor store trying to find my ID in my suitcase of a purse.  I definitely don’t look “younger than 30” anymore.
2. What you see is what you get.  I’ve been waiting years to discover my perfect hair and fashion style, like my put-together friends who have chunky necklaces to match each blouse and blazer, but it appears that jeans and cardigan with slightly frizzy, needs to be dyed hair is my style.  It’s almost liberating.
   
3. Searching for those vampire (because you can’t see them in the mirror) wiry chin hairs will give me something to do while waiting in lines. 
   
4. Friends aren’t afraid to be real.  We’ve got nothing to prove anymore in the friend department.  If we lose one, we can always pull a kid off the bench to spend time with.
   
5. When the early twenty-something girls are dancing, singing, and acting wild at the bar you can shake your head & roll your eyes, but if you want to join them you can just say it’s “Mom’s Night Out”  and those behaviors become perfectly acceptable.
   
6. After years of falling asleep in make-up and not religiously wearing sunscreen.  My face is now a test dummy for every kind of cream, gel, and crème that come in tiny, expensive bottles and tubes in an attempt to try and reverse my bad habits before it’s too late. 
   
7. I get to be the old kindergarten mom as my fourth and last kid enters school “for real” this fall. I know nearly all the elementary school teachers, how the buses and lunch accounts work, and where the elementary art room is, which in the eyes of the “new” kindergarten mom makes me a god.  I’m pretty sure.
   
8. If we run out of lined paper, my first grader can practice his penmanship on my forehead.
   
9. And… with a little math, I’m finally a 10! (3+7=10) …Which will probably feel just as legitimate now, as it did when I was 28..ha!

 This coming of age, again, isn’t as exciting as the first time around, but the result will probably be the same... hopefully – a new found comfort in my own skin – Now with wrinkles and age spots!… and a rogue chin hair, here and there.