As of this week, both Mark and I are 29 years old, which is basically 30, which is practically 40, which is over the hill. I keep thinking that if we double the time we’ve been alive so far, we will be sixty years old. And, I know for sure the second thirty will go by even faster than the first.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those crazy women who lives in constant agony over the thought of aging. I am actually okay with it, I think. I have to remind myself sometimes that I really am as old as I am, since I still consider myself a kid. Other people pushing 30 seem quite mature and responsible, very rooted in life, but I cannot say that I consider myself that way. I plan on trying to stay mentally youthful like that as long as I possibly can. I’m hoping that attribute will show itself less as immaturity and more as vibrance eventually.
Anyway, all of that being said, I have been giving age more thought lately. I saw a documentary the other night that was really forgettable except for the fact that it left me more aware of the plight of the elderly. The man interviewed had lost his wife of many decades and was basically letting his home and life go. He was slowly dying of cancer and when the interviewer asked him about whether he was afraid of dying alone, he broke down crying. He said he’d outlived his usefulness and described the extent of his loneliness. It was really depressing to me because as busy as he tried to keep himself with volunteering, etc., he still came home to a messy, empty house and cried himself to sleep. I know his circumstances weren’t typical, but I imagined myself a widow whose kids had long since grown up and moved out of state or something. I knew I would be extremely lonely.
I also dread the day that whatever home Mark and I have been raising our kids in is suddenly vacated as the youngest of them grows up and leaves. There are definite things to look forward to about that time…there are many days I cannot wait to have one-on-one time with Mark again! But, still, that will be the saddest day of my life, I’m assuming.
What I’m getting at is that I have been recognizing that I am indeed in the prime of my life right now. I’m not talking about my physical or intellectual prime (I hope to improve in those areas!) But, I know that these are the sweetest days I’ll probably ever know. As stressful as finances are, as busy and hectic as raising two babies is, as tired as I always seem to be…things are so amazing right now. I have this incredible partner and we are both healthy and able to spend a lot of quality time together. I have two thriving babies that are the light of my life and are at the stage when they think the world of me and both still need me for so many things. I have the incredible privilege of waking up each day with the primary responsibility being something I LOVE passionately- spending time with my family and doing my best to take good care of them!
So, even though we are two weeks into the new year, my “resolution” is to savor these moments. One day, I will look back at them and think, “those were really the best days of my life!” I don’t want to spend this time complaining or feeling sorry for myself in any way, shape, or form. I want to better demonstrate to my family and everyone else that I love that I cherish them. I know I’ll fail on a daily basis, I already have. There are moments, even when I am thinking about how special the moment is, that the precious things Ben says become so repetitive that they are no longer precious to me and the pee on the wall isn’t humorous and my headache or backache are really weighing on my mood. But, I just want my overall focus to be contentment and joy in all of the abundant blessings I’ve been given.