I’m turning 27 years old in a couple of weeks and I can’t get over it. I know when I’m much older I’ll look back and think myself silly for it, but right here, right now, it is scaring the hell out of me. Only 3 years from 30? This is the stuff of nightmares. My youth is nearly gone and I don’t think I really enjoyed it like I should have. Where did it go? My debilitating fear of death gets worse all the time because I’m that much closer to it. Is this something like a quarter-life crisis? Everyone says your 30′s are the best years of your life. I hope I can see it that way when it gets here.
The hardest part? Knowing I can’t get one second of it back.
My youngest will be turning 2 years old in September. Friggin TWO. Not cool. I remember wondering for 3 months whether I would ever see the day that she didn’t have to wear the Apnea monitor. She grows so fast I can’t keep her in shoes. She’s still small for her age (getting closer to average percentile in height and weight every day) but she seems so big compared to the tiny little thing I held in the NICU. Too big. Way too fast. I am so thankful that she has developed so well when things could have been very bad, but I am dreading her birthday. Dreading it. Isn’t that awful? It likely has something to do with the fact that I am not having any more children. She’s my baby. Is it normal to abhor the thought of your child turning two? What kind of mother does that make me? I just want to keep her little and soft and sweet for a little while longer. But we all know that is not going to happen.
My oldest is starting Kindergarten in the fall. ::falls over into a dead faint:: I don’t need to elaborate right? You feel my pain? Kay.
My mom. She turned 55 in March. In my mind she is the embodiment of youth. In the real world she ages just like everybody else. She used to be unstoppable, but lately it’s like the number itself caused an avalanche of things that I can’t wish away or ignore. Don’t get me wrong, she looks fantastic for her age and she still has oomph to spare, but things are different. And so suddenly. I absolutely hate it. By the end of the day she’s exhausted and has to rest. My mom resting is a foreign notion to me. Even just a year or two ago, I would have pitted her against the Energizer Bunny any day of the week. Apparently I don’t do well with change.
I have a dark cloud that hovers over me constantly. It goes by the name of “Time.” I should not be dwelling on the things to come, but instead enjoying every day because I am so lucky to be living the life I am. I have it so good. There is absolutely nothing that I should be complaining about. Still, Time hangs there suspended, taunting me. So I dwell. And dread. Which inevitably makes the moments fly by faster than they should since I want so badly to hang on to them.
On a lighter note, I guess if the Rapture occurs today, I won’t have to worry about it anymore. Hee.