This is 42

42 is being the old experienced mom in your circle of friends.  The one with the advice and tricks of the trade.  The one who has seen almost everything a young kid can throw at you.

But it’s also stumbling through being the mother of teenagers and young adults.

And it’s realizing, with a bit of a shock, that people you graduated high school with have already raised young adults.

At 42 you realize your life is probably half over.  It is a time of reflection and casting off of the things that don’t matter.  It is stripping your life down to the bare necessities that make you happy.

42 is wondering if menopause will be a great relief or if you will be sad to know your childbearing years are really over.

At 42 you wear leggings with baggy shirts just like you did when you were a teenager.  And you don’t care if you shouldn’t.

42 is taking care of your parents and your children at the same time.

It is wondering why it took you so long to find your passions.

At 42 you wish you had stayed in one place long enough to have planted trees that are now bearing fruit.

42 is accepting that you now have to color your hair to keep the white away and discovering panty lines.

At 42 you realize that you will  never have a single, transforming haircut that instantly turns you into a stunning beauty.  But you know that your beauty comes from your strength.

It is knowing that a letter from the IRS is seldom good news.

At 42, you know what it is to feel the devastation of loss, the hole left in your life from family and friends leaving too soon, the crushing grief of trying to live without them.

It is still wanting to travel the world, but knowing that the world is much more dangerous than you thought it was when you were 20.

42 is waking up with more aches than you laid down with and taking longer to get moving in the morning.

It is admitting that you need bifocals.

It is realizing that most of the big events in your life are over.  The excitement of going to college, falling in love for the first time, marriage, child-birth, etc.,  is over for you, but just beginning for your children.

At 42 you relish routines and customs.  You find happiness in the small things and enjoy every day life.

42 is liberating and comfortable.

42 is me.

I was inspired to write this post after meeting Dina Relles last week and discovering her blog. Her thoughtful post, This is 35, made me want to reflect on how I feel about my age in life.