...when you realize your children and your clothes are about the same age...
With so much discussion about turning 30 and so many (too many to link) of you having babies and such, it has drawn in sharp relief the inescapable fact that I am biologically old enough to have given birth to the whole lot of you. OK, well most of you anyway (the exceptions shall remain nameless, of course).
In any case, I usually try to avoid acting my age, but the effort has become futile of late. So today I'm coming out:
I'm 44 and I think I'm having a midlife crisis.
The good thing about this is that if you do the math, having a midlife crisis at 44 means you've still got a long way to keep going, baby.
Granted you all have entire decades ahead of you before you have to worry about this, but I still feel it's my duty to prepare you for what lies ahead, Forewarned is forearmed. Or something like that.
Here's a short guide to the upsides and the downsides of middle age:
Downsides first:
Midlife crises are a sexist phenomenon.
Cases in point:
Harrison Ford - ear piercing and practically adolescent (and anorexic) arm candy
Many men I know - motorcycles and/or new cars
Many men I don't know but about whom I've heard tell - new affairs.
Women I know - hysterectomies and estrogen therapy. We get squat I tell you!
I am invisible. A nonentity. Null and void. How, you may ask? Well, it took me almost a decade to get a clue, but it seems I've been dumped by the whole of coporate America. At least that nice boy who works at Bath & Body Works still seems to care about how I wield my buying power. Apple should too, thank you very much.
That's all for now. All the rest of the downsides are too depressing to mention.
But yes, there are upsides:
Apparently I am considered to be in a protected class. I like being protected. Well, mostly I like to joke with my half-my-age co-workers about my being in a protected class. Feigned shock amuses me. In truth, I'd like to hope I am competent enough to keep my job through my own merit, not my maturing age.
I am still not old enough to eat off the senior citizen menu at Denny's, Chuck-a-Rama or Sizzler. Trust me, this is a good thing. The other upside of this is that I am still young enough to have discerning enough taste that I only frequent restaurants that don't offer senior citizen discounts.
Kids are finally old enough I'm not changing diapers anymore. Parents are still young enough I haven't had to start changing theirs, either. 'Nuff said.
I can say out loud how much I love my minivan. Because I am so far beyond achieving hipness or coolness, it just doesn't matter any more. OK, it's true that some over-thirties really rock. And others are really cool. But it's not a universal truth or anything, so now I kind of feel the pressure is off. And I'm good with that.
Surprisingly, there are also a couple of aspects of middle age about which I am ambivalent.
Most of my kids are old enough to start having a social life. This means one of two things: Either my house is almost completely empty and my husband and our seven-year-old and I just look at each other and wonder what we do now. Or my house is packed full of teenage boys and/or pre-teen girls. This is generally a good thing, except when I worry about spending $45 on pizza that will disappear within mere seconds.
As I mentioned before, I'm oddly stuck in the no-woman's land of post-babies and pre-grandbabies. It may seem I should have less responsibilities, less worries. (Are you kidding me? I've got two teenage drivers!) But it's kind of lonely here.
I am an open book. It's bad enough I can't help but speak my mind, but as of late I apparently don't even have to open my mouth for someone to know exactly what I'm thinking, even when they'd rather not. It seems to be written all over my face. This is a bad thing when I deal with people who don't really want to know how I really feel. But it's kind of freeing at the same time. And it's probably a good thing as my memory starts to decline. At least I don't have to try to remember what I've said to whom.
Now, if only I could remember where I put my car keys . . .
But seriously, the purpose of this post is also for you, dear readers, to suggest some ways I should act out my midlife crisis. I'm not interested in following in the footsteps of Harrison Ford. It's so overdone. And besides, my ears have been pierced for ages. So get creative here and dream up something wildly exciting. The boys can't have all the fun.
In any case, I usually try to avoid acting my age, but the effort has become futile of late. So today I'm coming out:
I'm 44 and I think I'm having a midlife crisis.
The good thing about this is that if you do the math, having a midlife crisis at 44 means you've still got a long way to keep going, baby.
Granted you all have entire decades ahead of you before you have to worry about this, but I still feel it's my duty to prepare you for what lies ahead, Forewarned is forearmed. Or something like that.
Here's a short guide to the upsides and the downsides of middle age:
Downsides first:
Midlife crises are a sexist phenomenon.
Cases in point:
Harrison Ford - ear piercing and practically adolescent (and anorexic) arm candy
Many men I know - motorcycles and/or new cars
Many men I don't know but about whom I've heard tell - new affairs.
Women I know - hysterectomies and estrogen therapy. We get squat I tell you!
I am invisible. A nonentity. Null and void. How, you may ask? Well, it took me almost a decade to get a clue, but it seems I've been dumped by the whole of coporate America. At least that nice boy who works at Bath & Body Works still seems to care about how I wield my buying power. Apple should too, thank you very much.
That's all for now. All the rest of the downsides are too depressing to mention.
But yes, there are upsides:
Apparently I am considered to be in a protected class. I like being protected. Well, mostly I like to joke with my half-my-age co-workers about my being in a protected class. Feigned shock amuses me. In truth, I'd like to hope I am competent enough to keep my job through my own merit, not my maturing age.
I am still not old enough to eat off the senior citizen menu at Denny's, Chuck-a-Rama or Sizzler. Trust me, this is a good thing. The other upside of this is that I am still young enough to have discerning enough taste that I only frequent restaurants that don't offer senior citizen discounts.
Kids are finally old enough I'm not changing diapers anymore. Parents are still young enough I haven't had to start changing theirs, either. 'Nuff said.
I can say out loud how much I love my minivan. Because I am so far beyond achieving hipness or coolness, it just doesn't matter any more. OK, it's true that some over-thirties really rock. And others are really cool. But it's not a universal truth or anything, so now I kind of feel the pressure is off. And I'm good with that.
Surprisingly, there are also a couple of aspects of middle age about which I am ambivalent.
Most of my kids are old enough to start having a social life. This means one of two things: Either my house is almost completely empty and my husband and our seven-year-old and I just look at each other and wonder what we do now. Or my house is packed full of teenage boys and/or pre-teen girls. This is generally a good thing, except when I worry about spending $45 on pizza that will disappear within mere seconds.
As I mentioned before, I'm oddly stuck in the no-woman's land of post-babies and pre-grandbabies. It may seem I should have less responsibilities, less worries. (Are you kidding me? I've got two teenage drivers!) But it's kind of lonely here.
I am an open book. It's bad enough I can't help but speak my mind, but as of late I apparently don't even have to open my mouth for someone to know exactly what I'm thinking, even when they'd rather not. It seems to be written all over my face. This is a bad thing when I deal with people who don't really want to know how I really feel. But it's kind of freeing at the same time. And it's probably a good thing as my memory starts to decline. At least I don't have to try to remember what I've said to whom.
Now, if only I could remember where I put my car keys . . .
But seriously, the purpose of this post is also for you, dear readers, to suggest some ways I should act out my midlife crisis. I'm not interested in following in the footsteps of Harrison Ford. It's so overdone. And besides, my ears have been pierced for ages. So get creative here and dream up something wildly exciting. The boys can't have all the fun.
Comments
Touché on the difference between mid-life crisis for men versus women. But who's more foolish, the fool or the fool that follows? So I applaud those that don't fall into the pit of "I gotta have the new sports car, the mistress, the "give a million dallars to look like I'm 30 again." It takes poise and charm to age gracefully. In spite of the wrinkles, balding, sagging body parts, lack of "thrills", etc. [I can only say that because I haven't crossed that road yet.] ;-)
18-24
25-34
35-70
Uh, I'm on the lower end of that last grouping, but gee whiz!
I have to say that this is my favorite time of life so far. Old enough to to have some credibility, but young enough to to have some street cred. I've gotten over the fact that men are probably never going to honk at me (unless they just want to signal to me I left my gas cap on the roof of my car), and that teenagers are going to find me increasingly pathetic (especially my own--dagger in the heart), but I'm secure enough for the most part to not care.
I have a client who is in her early 50s who just pierced her nose and her belly button.
Wildly exciting? I'm going to have to think about that. I would like a mini cooper!! So small that only I could fit in it-no kids, no car seats, just me and a bunch of 80s CDs.
I LOVE LOVE LOVE your take on life and this post. Too many men who reach middle age... get into compensation mode and buy some crazy car. Can't stand this because...when I see a hot car I expect to look over and see someone hot..and the disappointment is rather irksome. hehehe
And...I love my minivan... after I got it ...I swore before I wouldn't be one of those moms...but here I am. ;-)
ps. Saw both boys blogs - WOW you are an amazing mom... raised some good guys.
elizabeth w: so with you in so many ways.
queen: you crack me up! I need to clarify; I loathed my second mini-van Fix Or Repair Daily is NOT a misnomer. But last summer I bought my brother and SIL's Toyota Sienna. LOVE it! Absolutely I do. I think I would drive one even if I didn't have any kids. Seriously!
I told my husband when he married me (a girl 24 years younger) that I was his mid-life crisis, so no more for him. (Although he did come home yesterday and ask if he could buy a $25,000 cobra, hmmm...)
I think you need to get a pedicure every month, spa day as often as possible, and start swearing. Hey, it works for me.(and Julie)
Piercings are out, tattoos are out, convertibles are out. How about you do the Marcia Brady thing and discover a new talent? (Cuz we're old enough to remember that episode.)
That, or buy some of those funky toe socks.
I think that you should start spending some weekends away with your husband leaving your teenagers in charge. Nothing says Middle Age Crisis like handing over the reigns of power to teens.
How about a house makeover? Kitchen updates or---FLASH, make one of your boys move in with the other (with a piece of tape down the middle) and turn one of their bedrooms into your dream quilt/craft room.
p.s. Sue, if your husband found an actual cobra race car for 25,000--you need to buy it right away.
TMM--toe socks sound great right now, especially as I have been freezing for over a month! (But it's kind of hard to show off a great pedicure while wearing toe socks.)
I have no new suggestions for you, but I'm all for a pedicure & spa day, for ANYONE (and I'm also curious about the best places to go for that).
You know, for my birthday my mom gave me money for a spa day. It's just sitting in the bank because I chickened out of my appointment at Remedez. I keep thinking if I shop around I can get more for my money elsewhere (plus I'm so tempted there just to blow the whole wad on product).
I still think a blog girl belly dancing class sounds like a screamimg good time.
Belly dancing just might be the perfect expression for a mid-life crisis. (Only because when one is in one's forties one is likely just a little too old to take up pole dancing.)
For just a pedicure, I would reccomend Model Nails 375-5360
676 N Freedom Blvd. They do a good job. (and not to spendy)
No way am I belly dancing in public. That is a sight NO ONE wants to see.
I think you should act out your midflife crisis through art. Create something you have never created before. You have grown hair, grown babies, maybe grown some flowers. Now create something you haven't before.
My mother didn't realize she was a talented painter, until we were all old enough to not constantly be in her hair. I love my moms paintings, we fight over my moms paintings.
I wonder what work of art you would create?
sue, from what I hear you don't have to actually bare your belly you just have to move your body. I still think it sounds like a riot (with the right people, of course). Thanks for the recommendation. Maybe what I need is someone to go with me. We should talk.
a payne, that's so interesting you should say that. I have been looking through the community ed magazine and have been sorely tempted to take drawing classes. I also would love to revisit pottery--haven't had a class in that since college. I don't have any talent with clay, but I do enjoy getting my hands dirty. Thanks for the suggestion!
P.S. if it makes you feel any better, you're not old enough to by MY mom. ;)
I'm not sure about the pink hair though. Platinum blonde sounds more like someone having a midlife crisis...as long as you add a belly piercing and a little butterfly tattoo somewhere.
I'll bring the trunk load of toilet paper to wrap the houses of any of your neighbors that complain about the noise. You supply the eggs. Oops, you are nearing menopausal age. Never mind. I'll bring the eggs!
P.S. Thank you for sharing that beautiful tribute.
I'm with elastic wbl- seriously - it'a time for a party! I'll fix crepes... maybe we could do the "we need another wedding shower" party and bring gifts to exchange: new kitchen gadgets, luxurious bath towels, slinky lingerie (tell me that doesn't excite your 44-year-old-non-pole-dancing self).
Maybe we could have the party at elastic's house... doesn't she live in california? Yeah, I'm for that.
ps. I read it. It was beautiful. Made me cry.
Thanks for visiting my blog. I wanted to respond to your comment but have no email address for you. Anyway, I love the ugly fabric idea. And some day I intend to post photos of my quilts. Someday...
http://www.imperfectparent.com/articles/article89.php
C-dub, I have never been cool, but if you want to share in my uncoolness I might let you wear the silver bat. Those punk Docs I referred to in my not a goth post have gotten me snickered at more than once. Who does that old lady think she is? Exene Cervenka? (I'll give a dollar to anybody who can sing me a favorite Exene Cervenka lyric.) Do I care? Not usually. Only on a really bad day. Provo is the land of eternal twentysimethings, so it's easy to get a complex, but I try to resist and just do what I want to do. Anyway, I still like Exene.
As for what you should DO, I think you might consider some bodywork on your auto—you could be the first mid-lifer in town to have a convertible minivan. What a statement!
I took belly dancing way back when, It was much fun, and there were bellies of all ages and sizes in my class, and that made it so much more fun. Yes to belly dancing. Or salsa. That's what I want to do next. (And I have an instructional set: The Quick and Dirty Guide to Salsa. How can you resist that?)
Don't do the pink hair. Had it once by accident, and it wasn't pretty.
Yes to a party.
Gorgeous henna tattooes on our hands and feet?
Go on a date with me to try on wigs? (This is actually deadly fun—did it with my young, gorgeous SILs a few years back when we were on a road trip.)
I was sure this is a perfect way to introduce myself!
Sincerely,
Monte Phil
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