It looks and feels much like 39 but without the burden that comes with the dread/pressure of turning 40.
It’s just another day.
It’s just a number.
I'm not one of those who get all excited about birthdays or anything. And I'm fine with that. I think it bothers other people, more than it bothers me.
Today I will celebrate my birthday by doing all of the ordinary things I do every day. In the past I may have resented this, wanting my birthday to be set aside somehow as special and feeling annoyed that it wasn't.
Now I am inclined to believe the older people who tell me this is as good as it gets, that I should enjoy it now before the kids all grow up and go away.
Today, on my birthday, I will help someone with reading, another kid with multiplication tables. I will reprimand someone for something. I will drink too much coffee. I will do laundry, tie shoes, make lunch. I will think about what to make for dinner. At least one kid will need a band-aid. I will tell my four year old that he really IS capable of wiping his own butt. He will refuse. I will mediate disagreements. I will do errands and will drive a thousand miles in my car, but never get more than 5 miles away from house. You would think that would be impossible, but I assure you it is not. I will watch at least one child play baseball. I will hug my children, even the ones that would rather not be hugged. I will lose my patience with someone. I will apologize. I will love. I will be loved. This is forty. And life is good and I am blessed! I hope I am still this healthy, happy and blessed 40 years from now.
40? So far so good.
