Signs of the Ages

In 6 weeks, I will turn 34. I do not think of 34 as "old" nor do I feel old. However, I do not feel 34. I feel about 26 or 27. More than that, I'm just really not sure how I already got to the age of 34 but here I am. I've not been too concerned though because I feel young at heart and I keep telling myself 34 is still "young"...but there are surprises that keep occurring and reminding me I'm aging whether I like it or not. For example, on New Year's Eve this year I actually looked forward to staying home with my family and being in bed by midnight (or before) with a good book instead of being upset that we weren't out celebrating somewhere. Then, last week I was reading a book and it mentioned a lady who was 35 and described her as "middle-aged". I all but screamed at my husband what a moron the author was and that 35 is not middle-aged. He very calmly asked me "what's the current life-expectancy? 70? Then 35 is middle-aged". I told him he needed to shut-up. (By the way, current life-expectancy is 80 so while I'm not quite there yet, middle-age will be here before I am 50 which is what I had previously expected.) I've compiled a list of some signs that are making me acknowledge my true age. Maybe some of you can relate.

1) Where are my glasses?
   When I enter a place that has low lighting or I go from being outside in the bright sun to inside, everything becomes a bit blurry. If I have left my glasses in my car, I almost always have to go back for them. My prescription is not bad. Truly, one eye is 20/20 and the other is 20/25. I can go without my glasses in many situations but put me in a dimly-lit room and I feel like an old lady asking "where are my glasses, dear?"

2) Are you supposed to be driving?
   Seriously, how young are they letting kids drive today? And how come I can no longer tell the difference between high school and college students? They all look the same. And maybe most disturbing, how are there kids in high school today that I taught when they were in Kg? I haven't been out of school that long - or at least it doesn't feel like it - so how is that even a possibility?

3) Don't even look at the ice cream!
   I am about five pounds heavier than I was in my 20s. I can lose this 5 pounds if I work out daily and eat a perfect diet. But if I even look at the ice cream, BOOM the five pounds are back on. I don't even think I have to put it in my mouth to gain the weight back. The nice part that has also come with age is that I no longer feel the necessity to have that "perfect" body. I'd rather eat the ice cream once in a while and be happy than crave it and deprive myself of it for 5 measly pounds. (And please, I know I am not overweight and have nothing to worry about as far as weight goes but it's all what you're accustomed to - so no lectures on my weight please.)

4) How old am I?
   I remember making fun of people that had to think about their age. I mean, how do you not know how old you are?! But lately if I am filling out a form that asks for my age, I find myself having to do the math. Thankfully I was born in 1980 so it is pretty simple math. Even with simple math though, there has been more than one occasion where my husband has to correct me (most the time I say I'm younger than I am but occasionally I go the opposite direction).

5) Dying is no longer a question.
   We're talking hair dye here people! It's always been optional before but now is a must-do because of my gray patches. It had been a stray gray hair here or there but the past few months it has become more of gray areas than a gray hair.

6) My feet are like the Arabian desert.
   This is maybe the most disturbing change of all. I remember my mom putting lotion on her feet every morning and every night and thinking she was a bit obsessed with her feet. I remember going to get pedicures and looking at "older" women thinking "gross! Take care of those! Why are they so dry?" And now, here I am putting lotion on all the time and I still feel like the oriental ladies at the pedicure shop are saying to each another in their language "She better tip good after I've had to mess with her nasty old dry feet!"

I should add that not all is bad about mid-thirties. I'm much more comfortable in my own skin, am not as concerned about what others are thinking and/or saying about me, have learned to say "no" when it's something I don't care to do and am happy with my job, family and financial status. The internal benefits of aging far outweigh the external consequences of it. I just wish I could have the best of both worlds for the remainder of my life.

So to my younger readers I say this: you just keep sitting back thinking you have all the time in the world before some of these things start happening to you. Because they will happen and the timing will be faster than you expect. To my girls in their 30s: what has been your biggest "aging" surprise? To the girls wiser than me in this area: what else do we have to look forward to? Help a sister prepare herself! And to my awesome men readers: what's different or the same with your gender?

The hatchlings and the larvae

Hatchlings: baby bird                               Larvae: baby bees

That's right... the birds and the bees...kind of. Well, the beginning of them at least.

Because I have 2 girls, we've never had to have a name for boy and girl parts. Everything up until recently has been referred to as "bottom", "front", "back" or "private area" (except when Kherington was about 3, she had been to the bathroom with a boy at the babysitter's and she came home and educated me that "boys have a stick and girls have a rainbow").  Anyway, those 4 words were basically how my mom referred to that area with me and it has resulted in a perfectly healthy adult... Kind of. Ok, I'm a grown woman who has to force herself to say any word - even the medically correct terminology - for that area (see, I can't even type the words) and I often have to ask my husband what certain words or phrases mean because I am a tad naïve and innocent (just a side-note: don't ever google something you think may be of sexual content. Ask your spouse or a trusted friend. It's much safer.)

So, Kherington turned 5 and was about to start school and I decided that she needed some words to refer to that area for several reasons. 1) we have talked since she was 2 about our privates being special and who is allowed to touch that area (me, her dad, the baby-sitter and her mimi) and we only touch them when we are helping her wipe. (Please have this conversation with your child! There are many sickos out there hiding under many positions that your child, God forbid, may come in contact with.) Because my ability to control, choose, and supervise her peers and teachers is being significantly decreased due to school, I want her to have good language and vocabulary to explain exactly what  happened if (God please protect my children!) something ever did happen. Reason 2) I want to be the source of sex-education to my children. If I have never even been able to talk about different body parts with them, they will turn somewhere else for information (I am not so naïve to believe they will be completely open and honest with me their whole lives but I do believe that open conversation begins now) And finally, I want them to be comfortable enough to say the words..."penis" and "vagina" when they're 33. There, I typed them! Success.

Ok, now for the good part. So this summer, Kherington was in my bathroom when I got out of the shower. She made some comment that would allow me to use those words. "Rainbow. We call that a rainbow!" is what I wanted to shout. 10 long seconds of an internal debate willing myself to say that word, I finally whispered "vagina". "What?" she asked. "Vagina. That's the name of that part." Beads of sweat started rolling down my face and my palms became clammy. "And boys have a".... (gulp. why is my heart pounding? say it, say it)... "penis". "oh ok" she replied nonchalantly and went skipping off to play with Barbies. Whew. That wasn't too bad. I did it! I gave her a name for those parts and she didn't ask questions and didn't seem to be scarred for life. I gave myself a pat on the back and marked that off my "need to do" list.

Until last week. Kimber pulled her shorts up way too high and I told her I could see her cheeks. Kherington laughed and remarked how she didn't know those were called cheeks. I made some comment about "yeah, we have 4 cheeks. 2 on our face and 2 on our bottom" She continued to think that was comical and I started laughing because she was laughing so hard. Then, she said "3 people in this house have 4 cheeks" and I corrected her by saying that 4 people have 4 cheeks. She then inquired "daddy has cheeks too?" "yep". "Oh. I thought since he had that long one in front that his back was different too." At least I think that's what she said. My brain stopped working after hearing "that long one" and it just kept replaying that phrase in my head as I realized we were about to have the terminology talk again. CRUD! I then had a vision of her as a 15 year old in the locker room saying something about boys and "their long ones". I then came to my senses and remembered how easily the first conversation went. I finally made myself say it again... (gulp. Breathe.) "Penis. That long one is called a penis." "Hahahaha! It sounds like peanuts! Penis, peanuts! Penis, peanuts!" on and on. "PLEASE STOP SAYING THAT!!" I shouted wanting to cover my ears with my hands. "And when I drop you off at your private Christian school in 20 minutes, please don't say that word to anyone! You can say it at home or ask questions to me or daddy about it but let's just keep it with our family." (to which my husband later informed me "I want no part of any of those conversations!" Great... we have 2 girls which means I have to have all "the talks" and he gets off scotch free. No fair!)

I know these conversations can make us parents uncomfortable - especially "church" people who have been taught certain topics and/or words are taboo. But our kids will learn these words from someone. Wouldn't you rather be the one teaching them? I would. At least until my 5 year old walks around saying "penis" over and over - then, I have to think twice about it. The good news is I've now survived 2 of these conversations without God striking me down or my child needing therapy.