On the eve of my hubby's 48th birthday, he turns to me nonchalantly and asks, "Is there anything I should know about 48 dear?" I can't even remark. For nine months of the year I am older than him and he lets me know it weekly. I quietly respond that he wasn't even a twinkle in his mother's eye when I was born. That has never stopped him from coming up with the statement later in the same week stating that I am older than him. So, how do I respond to today's question? Do I take it as a last chance to "poke" me before he catches up? Do I wonder where he has been the last 9 months as I navigated year 48? Or am I so dumbfounded by the question that I say nothing. I chose the last option but not because I thought it was the best answer but because I had nothing wise or witty to jab him back with. My thought is to keep my mouth shut so I don't jump right into the middle of the statement that I am still older than him.
For these next three months I get to step back and watch as he navigates his 48th year. I get to watch as he makes decisions and either learn from his experiences or chuckle at his new baby steps into this foray of 48.
I must say, we are going gracefully toward that 50 mark but time is starting to show upon us. Yesterday I remarked to him that my grey hairs were matching his grey hairs...in his beard. You see, his head hair is letting go of his scalp before it has a chance to turn grey. I can say with glee that mine is turning grey and not letting loose. But, my bones are showing/creaking out my age now. I tell you what, if they ever wanted to tape a squeeking rocking chair, they only need follow me with the recorder; my ankles and knees are a cacophany of creaks and grinds. If I am making more noise in this middle age, I must say that he has won that contest hands down. The sounds that emanate from him during sleeping times must register in the 30s on the decibel meter. I sent him to the ENT doctor to see if there was anything we could do. Nope, everything looks fine. I went to my doctor with exhaustion and she prescribed pills that would get me to a deep sleep and keep me there. I must say, she is right most of the time but when the tiles of our roof and the timbers holding them up begin "falling" around me, wake me up in time to get out of the house. His nocturnal vocal emanations could bring the roof down. God has, however, saved us from this demise, too.
It is fun and therapeutic to wrestle with middle age and it's idiosyncrasies. It does have it down moments, but if you can't turn them into times of laughter at some point, they will get you down. Make light of those moments when the knees creak and the rafters shake and then it will be easier being 48+.
For these next three months I get to step back and watch as he navigates his 48th year. I get to watch as he makes decisions and either learn from his experiences or chuckle at his new baby steps into this foray of 48.
I must say, we are going gracefully toward that 50 mark but time is starting to show upon us. Yesterday I remarked to him that my grey hairs were matching his grey hairs...in his beard. You see, his head hair is letting go of his scalp before it has a chance to turn grey. I can say with glee that mine is turning grey and not letting loose. But, my bones are showing/creaking out my age now. I tell you what, if they ever wanted to tape a squeeking rocking chair, they only need follow me with the recorder; my ankles and knees are a cacophany of creaks and grinds. If I am making more noise in this middle age, I must say that he has won that contest hands down. The sounds that emanate from him during sleeping times must register in the 30s on the decibel meter. I sent him to the ENT doctor to see if there was anything we could do. Nope, everything looks fine. I went to my doctor with exhaustion and she prescribed pills that would get me to a deep sleep and keep me there. I must say, she is right most of the time but when the tiles of our roof and the timbers holding them up begin "falling" around me, wake me up in time to get out of the house. His nocturnal vocal emanations could bring the roof down. God has, however, saved us from this demise, too.
It is fun and therapeutic to wrestle with middle age and it's idiosyncrasies. It does have it down moments, but if you can't turn them into times of laughter at some point, they will get you down. Make light of those moments when the knees creak and the rafters shake and then it will be easier being 48+.
