Half of 50

When I was 25, I proudly told family and friends that I was “half of 50”.  Looking back, I don’t know if this was supposed to make me seem more mature, or if I was just so young that 50 still seemed a lifetime away.

Tomorrow, I’ll be 86% of 50.  That doesn’t have quite the same ring, somehow.

I finally understand what my parents used to say about us kids growing up so quickly. I finally understand what they meant about not really feeling old.  I finally understand why my mom seemed so tired so often.

I have no regrets, because the life I chose led me to the life I have today, one that is rich and full, and includes a loving loyal husband, children who by turns challenge and inspire me, family and friends who fill my life and make it worthwhile, and even a job that motivates me to do it well and in its own small way contributes to helping others.

The 25-year-old me that I remember knew so very little, but already she was learning a great deal.  She already had a strong marriage.  She knew by then that her parents actually knew what they’d been talking about during her teen years, and she was starting to learn that she was very happy they’d erred on the side of overprotection.

My goals now are a bit different than they were then.  I want to hold onto time with my children, but I keep feeling it slip away.  You don’t know what it is to be a mother until you are one, no matter how many parenting books you might read (and this is coming from someone who read LOTS of them).  In the beginning, sometimes just getting through the day and finding a few hours of uninterrupted sleep is the best you can hope for.  Later on, a night out with your friends refuels you.  But before you know it, you are wondering how many more times your teenage daughter will be seen with you at the movie theatre.  How long before she’ll only go with her friends, or maybe just with a boyfriend?  You feel your intelligence in her eyes falling precipitously.  

On the occasions that your children do echo back some of your better words of wisdom (i.e., “I don’t know why anyone would even try smoking!”), you hope and pray that means you’ve gotten at least some of this parenting gig right.  And while you may be able to take some credit still for the younger child’s good behavior, you realize with each passing year that the older one is more and more her own person (and she was the independent one already).

At least in my life:

• My early 20s were about figuring out who I was, especially in relation to my husband and career
• My late 20s/early 30s were about learning what it was to be a mom, and re-figuring out what it meant for me to be a Christian
• My late 30s were about “getting my grove back”, finding the me that was definitely a mom, but also still my own person
• My early 40s have been about learning how to let go of things that I thought were finally solid (via a big move to another state), all while holding tight to the most important people and things

So, what do I hope for the next stage?  My goal is to learn how to better reach out, to connect to the community around me, to find more meaningful ways to give back (whether that be donating my money, my time, etc.), and to gracefully let go as my kids leave the nest and learn to live on their own (all with the assurance I’m still there for them when needed).

And if you see me crying at an upcoming college visit or at my daughter’s high school graduation in a few years, don’t judge!  It may take a few tears to learn how to let go gracefully…