I'm Middle Aged ... If I Live To Be 116

I've heard it said that life is too short to be taken seriously. I agree 100% with that ... but totally disagree with it at the same time. Just depends on how you look at it.

For example, I don't want to go through all of my life and then get to the end and realize I wasted all that I had been given, that I focused on the things that don't matter to the exclusion of the things that do. On the other hands, I don't want to be so totally focused on the task at hand that I forget to smell the roses, that I neglect to just enjoy what's around me. That, my friends, is what we call a conundrum ... or life.

As I'm getting older, I'm learning more to enjoy what's around me. I still like to say I'm middle-aged, but my oldest son (who is dangerously close to middle age himself) likes to point out that I probably won't live to be 116, so therefore, I can't be termed middle-aged. Whatever. I'd like to say that my oldest son is dumb, but that would really not be nice ... so I won't.

This brings me to another point in that tiny argument about age that I have with my son. The British  have concluded in a study that middle age begins at 55. Sounds about right. Makes me a little more forgiving about that big war that we fought for independence with them a couple of hundred years ago. But I think they're on to something.

We'll just say I'm a little older. That way no one gets hurt. A little older. Maybe a little wiser.

I can sit on the back porch with my husband at night and watch the sun set while we talk about our days, about our dreams, about our family, about our life together ... and not worry that the kitchen isn't totally cleaned or the laundry hasn't been folded yet.

My husband and I laugh about the texts that we send each other, because if we're not wearing our reading glasses, who knows what will wind up being sent. Old blurry eyes and fat fingers do not make for good texting results, but they definitely make for a lot of hilarious fun!

I can watch our grandchildren play and enjoy their creative minds and mischievous attitude ... without worrying about how dirty they're getting, or how much sugar they're consuming, or what other people might be thinking.

I can put on my make-up in the morning and know that there's only so much I can do without resorting to cosmetic surgery ... but still be semi-okay with the fact that I'm presentable, and my husband likes the way I look. Besides, my eyes don't work like they used to, and what I don't know won't hurt me, right?

I'm at the age where if I tell people I took a nap today, they don't question my productivity or my health. Of course I took a nap. That's what people my age do! I just want to apologize to my mother for fighting naps like I did as a child. You were right, Mom. Naps are incredible!

We watch sporting events, movies, go to the doctor's office, see a policeman working an accident and realize that every one of those people look like little children. They're all younger than we are -- and we just smile at each other because we know they're going to be in our shoes one day.

It's the little things that give me joy. Getting up out of a chair without making noise. Seeing the trees change color in the autumn. Being surrounded by our children and grandchildren, laughing and enjoying each other. Hiking a rough terrain without pulling any muscles. Smelling hot chocolate chip cookies right out of the oven. Getting a compliment on my super-cute shoes. Holding hands with the man I've loved so many years.

God has given me so much. I used to just focus on the big things -- like my salvation, or His incredible love for me. Those things are awesome! Mind-blowing, if you don't mind me using an old person term. I know I'll never not be thankful for those "big things" because they're what my eternal life is all about. But, I've learned to slow down, to smell the roses, to appreciate all of the little gifts that go together to make this beautiful life He's given me.

This middle-age season suits me pretty well.

Age and Wisdom

There have been a lot of things written (mostly by me) about the horrors of middle-age -- whinings comments of wrinkles, age spots, flabby bellies, gray hair, near-sightedness, or chin hairs. Unfortunately, all of those things are true for SOME people (not necessarily me. Pleeeeeease tell me that those don't apply to me ... even if it's not true. It'll just make me feel better.) But you know what? With age comes wisdom. I've heard that somewhere, and it's constantly repeated (primarily by older people), so it must be true, right?! The more I ponder on that little statement, I think it's got to be true. And here's why.

Go to a club and you won't find older, middle-aged people gyrating and grinding up against a stranger on the dance floor. Why? For one reason, gyrating can cause you to throw a hip out. Secondly, middle-aged people tend to be a little wary of strangers, and grinding on one isn't particularly the smartest thing to do because he might be an ax murderer. Lastly, most middle-aged people don't stay up much past 10:30 (which is considered extremely early in "club time") because they've come to realize the true beauty and value of sleep over the years.

Think about it. It's not the middle-aged man who's arrested at the ball park for stripping off all of his clothes and streaking across the field. It's not the middle-aged woman who is kidnapped at 3:00 in the morning because she's walking down the alley alone to get to her car. It's not the middle-aged man who is charged with vandalism because he was painting his name on the town's water tower. It's not the middle-aged woman who is arrested and has her car towed because she was driving 50 miles over the speed limit with her fellow middle-aged friends leaning out the windows yelling at other cars as they drove by. Middle-agers are past that. Many of them have "been there, done that" and are grateful to have simply survived.

Excitement in life is nice. But once you hit middle-age, safety and security become even MORE nice (or nicer, if you prefer good grammar). Middle-aged people would like to think they're going to actually make it to the next stage of life, so they tend to think of ways to do this. Examples of this might be: to NOT put your make-up on while you're driving to work ... to NOT crawl out of a moving vehicle and climb on the car's roof just to see what it's like to ride ON a car and not IN a car ... to NOT mouth off to the extremely big, angry guy standing next to you in line. Middle-aged people think, maybe sometimes too much, but still, they think. And that's a good thing.

So, the next time you spot one of those pesky chin hairs, or you try to run to cross a busy street but your "get-up-and-go" doesn't cooperate and you look like you're doing nothing but flailing in the middle of the road, celebrate in your wisdom! You've made it this far! We middle-aged folks need to embrace the adage "with age comes widom". Someone's got to ...

When I Cough ...

There are stages of life that no one prepares you for. If you're a teenager, there are books about driving, self-esteem, dating, not dating, blah blah blah. If you're a new mom, there are probably ten trillion (maybe a slight exaggeration) books dedicated to caring for a newborn -- how to get a baby to sleep, how to get a baby to eat, how to toilet train, how to parent multiple children, etc. Think of something in this area and I'm willing to bet there will be a book about it. There's books on marriage, books on finance, books on death and dying, books on educating yourself and your children. But why, oh why, are there not books on this huge, broad area of middle-age?

Let me answer my own question. The first and most obvious answer is because everyone who IS middle-aged is in denial and thinks they're not quite there yet. If someone admits to it, he is most definitely middle-aged and is really probably closer to senior citizen status. Another answer is because no one really cares about middle-age (except for the person who's stuck in it, confused and dazed!). It's really not a subject that people particularly want to read up on and discuss. But I think the REAL answer is because it's always been a conspiracy. The older generation had such a hard time dealing with it that they thought it would be funny for the following generation to be blindsided by everything, so middle-aged issues were kept hush-hush.

Seriously, what woman wants to read a book about chin hairs, hot flashes, broadening waists and hips, and blurry eyes. Society tells us to cover up age spots, shoot up wrinkles with Botox, dye our gray hair, and buy head-to-toe Spandex to wear under our clothes. Let's get down to the honest truth here. Which book would be more apt to be on a best-seller's list: My Hot Romantic Encounters or When I Cough, I Pee?

I've thought about writing a book for people who are entering middle-age. It would be required reading for everyone after the age of 35, because like it or not, middle-age is pounding on the door at that age. We would NOT discuss people like Michelle Pfeiffer, Demi Moore, or Sharon Stone. Why? Because they're either airbrushed in their magazines, have had multiple plastic surgeries that the rest of us middle-agers can only dream about, or they're just too naturally pretty to be counted anyway. We would certainly NOT discuss middle-aged rockers like Mick Jagger or Steven Tyler for the simple reason that they're in their 60's but still dress and act like their 20-year-old versions, and they're so far in denial of middle-age that they don't count either. No, we'd focus on the REAL middle-aged people. People like me. The ones who think they still have blond in their hair (until their hairdresser informs them that the blond is actually gray, or a "mature blond" as it is more correctly called) ... the ones who try to read the newspaper and wonder when they started using such a small font ... the ones who look down at their hands and think, "When did I get my grandma's hands?"

Of course, there aren't any answers for middle-age. It just happens while you're living your life. One day you're changing diapers and wiping noses ... and the next day you're checking out costs of colonoscopies and complaining because commercials are way too loud on TV. You go from dancing at clubs to falling asleep on the couch after Dancing With the Stars is over. The top thing to realize though is that you're no longer cool. In fact, you're so far from cool, you're hot ... but not hot in the good way that kids talk about. You're so hot that you're pretty much fizzled out.

And you need a book, dang it! I need a book! I say we pool our wisdom and resources, put down all of our collected observances about middle-age, and prepare the next generation of suckers youngsters who think this aging process will never happen to them (just like we thought it would never happen to us). We have knowledge that MUST be passed on to those who are coming after us, and it would sure be nice of us to let them know what they're in for. We've already got the title (When I Cough, I Pee) so we're part-way there...

Wishing For Long Arms

I know what you're thinking. Diana, what an incredibly beautiful picture of two models you've posted! Well, sorry to disappoint you ... but those two gorgeous, young, unwrinkled blondes are my husband and me a few years back. And by a few years, I'm talking 31 years ago. This was the picture that we put on our wedding invitation. Wes has been likened to Grizzly Adams with his full, bushy beard and headful of hair. Now that I think about it, I think this is one of the few times I've ever seen him wear a tie. Man! He really loved me to wear a tie for our picture!! I, on the other hand, had the Farrah Fawcett hairstyle (accented beautifully with Sun-In Hair Color) and lacquered down with about 100 pounds of hairspray. Considering that I only weighed 98 pounds at the time, this was quite a feat. Yes, it's true -- the hairspray I used doubled my body weight. But, my hair looked great.

Weren't we a cute couple?! Little did we know what was ahead of us. Here we are 31 years, 4 children, 2 grandbabies, and 9 dogs later. Neither one of us have quite the hair that we had once upon a time, and the gray is way more noticeable now than the blond. We've added a few pounds, but Wes has somehow managed to dodge the wrinkles better than I have. And there is no way in the world that we'd agree to sit down in grass like this picture shows again. First of all, because I'm deathly afraid of getting a tick, but secondly because I don't know if either one of us could manage to get up again. We'd be stuck in this pose until we died and then a special casket would have to be made to hold us both. But you know what? I think we're still a cute couple!! We still walk down the street holding hands. We can still practically read each other's thoughts.He still makes me laugh and giggle like I was 18 again.

Last night, as I was almost asleep, I felt this shaking from the other side of the bed. No, it wasn't an earthquake. No, it wasn't one of the many dogs that tries to sneak in to the bed to sleep with us (by the way, we only have 3 dogs now). It was my husband trying in vain to reach an itchy spot on his back. When he realized I was awake, he said, "I wish my arms were longer so I could scratch my own back." And I laid there and laughed. Now that I'm wide awake, I see that I should have offered to scratch my poor husband's back. Instead, I managed a weak giggle and then promptly fell asleep. Sorry about that, Wes! I definitely owe you a back scratching!

We've had a lot of "wishes" over the years. In our poorer days, we'd wish for money enough to go out to eat ... or for the ability to buy a car that was younger than we were. Once our house was full of children, we'd wish for a night alone in our bed without children and pets invading us ... or the opportunity to have a full, uninterrupted conversation. Now that we're dealing with an empty nest, we wish for the children to come home more ... or that I could actually make it to 10:00 pm without falling asleep on the couch.

Wes and I married young. We met just a few weeks after I turned 18, were engaged 3 months later, married a year later, and had our first baby a year after that. Life has been a whirlwind ever since. And it's been full of wishes. But even better than that, it's been full of promises kept and dreams fulfilled. Honestly, I'm sure he has wished more than once over the years that I would lose the ability to speak ... or that I would quit trying to organize everything around me. He still laughs at my spices that are in alphabetical order (but he can find anything he's looking for in there!!). Regardless of what he's wished, he's managed to do what he promised when we stood in front of 300 people. He's hung around (yay!), provided for our family, been an incredible dad, loved me like I'm forever 18, and been my best friend.

Wishes are definitely fun to make. But you can't build a home on wishes alone. It takes the foundation of a promise kept, a commitment made, and a vow taken. And I'm so grateful that I met a man who stood by his word. To add to all of that, he opens the cemented jelly jars, kills the deadliest spiders, changes light bulbs, and looks at me like I'm still 18 ... but that's another blog. :)