This is 42

This is 42

Today is my birthday.

Birthday number 42.

Up until a few years ago, I never felt my age. I never really thought I looked my age. But then I had a kid.

And now I’m every bit of 42.

I used to look at my friends’ Facebook photos and think to myself , “Do I look that old?” “Do we look that old?”


Um yeaaaaaaah!

I have aged. I look back on pictures prior to having my son and I don’t look like myself anymore. I don’t recognize that person in the mirror.

Young. Vibrant. Well rested.

I’ve traded those things in for diapers and dinosaurs.

And wrinkles.

And grey hair.

I see a mother in the mirror.

I see more of my own mother in my face these days.

I see my grandmother in my attitude.

I see someone I never thought I would.

Do I miss the old me?

You betcha.

Would I trade 42 for 35?

No way.

I have a life I never thought was possible. I have a beautiful home. I have a great guy I don’t deserve most days and a son I never dreamed of that makes 42 well worth it.

Sure, my needs are different at 42.

Pre child my needs were simple: Money, food, sex, and sleep.

Granted, I still need those things.


I need, like really need, sleep. Like sleep all night, uninterrupted, stay in bed until 10am….wait..noon..sleep.

I need to wake up and go to sleep each day hearing the words “momma” and “I love you”.

I need to see the faces of my little boy and my fiancé everyday.

I need my health. For me. For them. But especially for him.

I need my family and their love and support.

I need to laugh, cough, and sneeze without peeing my pants.

I need coffee.

I need to write. For me.

I need my son to eat. Like a whole fucking meal. Not a bite here and there with tears and argument.

I need a night where I am not letting a barking dog out at 2am and a child that insists on a glass of milk in a Sippy Cup I cannot assemble half asleep at the same time.

I need a regular date night with my partner.

I need adult interaction outside of work and daycare drop off.

I need a fucking babysitter.

I need to remember to feed the fish.

And lastly, man, I need a vacation.

This is 42.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Except maybe sleep.

Definitely sleep.



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Filed under: TJ's Blogs

Tags: Birthdays, parenting

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