Minding the gap...

My sweet Nana, who lived well into her nineties, used to tell me how she would forget how old she was until she caught herself in a mirror. Her reflection would surprise her, she said, because in her mind she was always decades younger. She would forget how time was tracking her down and changing her outside of her thoughts...that is, until an ailment or trip to the doctor would remind her. Then she would always sigh and say "Don't ever get old. It's terrible." None of this made sense to me. I would wonder how one could not always be absolutely aware of her age, and, really, why wouldn't I want to get old? We get older every day, every minute. What's the alternative? Yep, death. And who wants that?

Ok, Nana, you win. I get it.

Today is my birthday. My forty-second birthday, to be specific. And while I certainly don't want to stop the aging process for fear of the alternative, I would like it to slow down a bit and let me catch up. Give me a minute to absorb the fact that I can't stay up until one a.m. and not regret it the next day. Let me have a few days to wrestle with the fact that I have no idea what certain slang terms mean, or who half of the "celebrities" on the pages of my InStyle magazine are (I will assume most are from the Disney channel or vampire shows and will rely on my daughter to fill those gaps for me in the years to come.) I will need at least a month to stop doing before-and-afters in the mirror, pulling my neck up tight to remind me of what it used to look like. Give me a mourning period for my youth, and let me attempt to embrace where I am now.

I, too, forget how old I am until I see my reflection. I am perpetually twenty-something until I catch myself in the eyes of the girls shopping next to me in Forever 21. Then I am painfully reminded that I am not one of them. I need to move along to Chico's with the rest of the moms while the kids feed that youth demographic all the consumer reports talk about. I'm not quite there yet, girls. But I get it. I'll stick to my side of the generation gap. Just remember to listen to your grandmothers.

Classes have begun...

Here we are, September at last. The time of year where everyone asks where did the summer go, how did it pass by so quickly? I am always ready for it. In June, I am excited for summer and the beach, sunshine and bare toes. By mid-August the trip to the beach is far behind me, my feet are mad at me for mistreating them in flip flops, and I am finished with sleeping with the windows closed for fear the air-conditioned air will escape. Everyone seems cranky and panicked, trying to get the last few days' worth of quality summer fun before it's too late. I say pack up the inflatable pool and bring on the pumpkin-flavored coffee, the fresh night air, and fisherman sweaters.

August was a month of uncontrollables, of a multitude of events and occasions that proved to be challenging from all angles. A family reunion of sorts, a baby shower, christening, sickness and recovery, and too much weather kept me filled with nervous energy. I moved from day to day, finishing one task or challenge to move on to the next, and crawled into bed tired and low on motivation. So goodbye, August. You've worn out your welcome.

Even though my last first day of school was too many years ago, I've never lost that back-to-school vibe, that smell of potential in the air. Potential to start fresh and be that go-getter I just know is in there waiting to burst out all over everyone and everything. Armed with new clothes and blank pages in composition books, I will take it all on. I will raise my hand in class every day at least once, I will not hide behind third base in gym class praying the ball doesn't reach me. I will stop letting life just happen to me.

It's still there. I'm more cynical than that idealistic schoolgirl, and I'm a little worn from wear, but I still feel like I fueled up on optimism somewhere and am getting ready for the new year. September is my birth month and I look at my new age as my next grade or semester in the "school of life". And just like when I was in school, my enthusiasm will fade quickly, only this time I have a daughter to help me kickstart it back up again. I want her to pick up on this feeling, to look forward to new beginnings and fresh starts. To not dread the experience of learning, be it in a classroom or elsewhere.

So I'm saying farewell to summer, even though there are technically a few weeks left, and I'm gearing up for the new season. I'm making my mental lists of books to read and looking for a new haircut. I am preparing for the onslaught of birthdays and holidays by setting a budget. I am looking forward to potty training (well, sort of. Let's say I'm looking forward to no diapers.). I am taking charge of the things I can control and making this life thing a collaboration instead of a one-sided affair. I will sit in the center of the classroom instead of the back row. And I will start daydreaming of next year's summer vacation...