Bring on Forty!

30th Party Bus

Apparently I'm approaching forty...I'm not sure when that happened, but it appears that my body knows how old I am. I recently looked at a photo and noticed these weird wrinkles under my eyes - what the foxtrot? For some reason I still think I'm twenty...even if my sagging ass doesn't. Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining about my age, I just think it's funny that I didn't realize that I am almost FORTY! I remember when my mom was forty...I was twenty and I thought forty sounded so old. And of course, everyone always says "just wait...you blink and you're {whatever age sounds old}. No shit...here we are. And, to add to the reality of forty...my toddler will be three. That thought stopped me in my tracks...I am going to be an "old hag*" when my kiddo graduates from high school. It's kind of funny because I have a couple aunties with glorious silver hair...I'm hoping that gets passed on to me.

El husbando is a year younger and if you know him, he sometimes acts like a toddler. It's super fun in our household - seriously, it is...then in the blink of an eye, the Pickle pulls a terrific three move and the fun & games are over! So...I've been avoiding this birthday like it's the plague...I'm not going to celebrate that shit, so I don't expect anyone else to. For months I've been threatening to jump on a plane to somewhere warm and call from my destination...I'm only half joking. A few days ago, el husbando calls me at work - he's stressed out...and he's "pulling his hair out" (this is funny because he has no hair). Turns out he's trying to plan some elaborate party, but there is a nephew/niece coming around that time and I'll jump on a plane, other events scheduled, etc...so he's stumped. My first thought was that he was telling me because he wanted me to arrange a babysitter (I know, I'm a dick)...then I was adamant that we did not need a party. No way, no how. Besides, he and I have very different ideas about how parties should work these days...beer pong and a keg (which I still love) vs. sequins and a shit-ton of bubbly (what sounds really good as I approach middle age). Although, I admit...I have no problem sitting on my couch wearing sequins and chugging bubbly from the bottle on any given day. I'm uber-classy like that.

He was a little perturbed and asked "do you know that I'm going to look like an asshole for not doing something?" I laughed at him, but was seriously thinking..."I don't care what you look like...I look freaking old - I look like I have bags under my eyes and when did my ass get so droopy?!!" Dude**, if you want to plan something elaborate...buy me a couple bottles of bubbly, a sparkly tutu, and we'll have a rad dance party in the living room. He forgets that I've had one heck of a good time in my forty years, so I won't be feeling any FOMO {o.m.g...just heard this on a movie the other day and I'm obsessed with it}...I have enough of those "there was this one time..." stories to tell the Pickle when she's old enough...in about 37 years, I'm guessing.

Bring on forty, dudes!

*my mom loves the term old hag and it makes me giggle to use it.
**he gets super pissed when I call him "dude" - I think it's funny. 'haga'

PS: Bub, if you wake up and I''m not home on that day...check wife #3's pool. xo