Squinting At Fifty

In just over a month I turn fifty. Freakin' fifty! The big FIVE OH my hell, how did this happen?

I stressed a lot about twenty-nine.  For my entire twenty-eighth year I just couldn't bear the thought of twenty-nine. During routine household chores it would creep up behind me, blow its clammy breath against the back of my mind, until, just as I became aware of it there, "BOO!"

I anguished.  I hadn't really lived. I was an old married lady. I was a stay at home Mom with two little boys, they would be little forever AND I needed to decide if I was having more babies because twenty-nine was soooooo old.

Then suddenly I was twenty-nine and ridiculously morning-noon-and-evening sick with my third son. I hardly noticed as thirty came and went, then thirty-one and a lot of numbers in between passed by in a whirl of four more pregnancies, parks, and swimming pools, homework and job changes, moves, and trick-or-treating and Ground Hogs days, first days of school and last weeks of school, football games and choir concerts, baseball and orchestra, a foster kid, and five graduations, more job changes and hikes, and vacations, and crisis and emotions and laughter and, this year, a wedding...  Twenty-nine?  Pffffff, what do numbers mean after all?

Yesterday I went in with Adorable Hubby, #1, #4, and #7 for a MUCH needed eye exam just sure I'd come out with a prescription for, and I whisper this, bi-focals.  Praise Plutarch!  I only needed a bit stronger lenses.   I walked out of that exam room with dilated eyes and a youthful spring in my step, I felt twenty-nine again. Winky face.

But, I am I blind, nauseated and grumpy with my eyes dilated. Helping five people pick frames, realizing I had forgotten my medical card, going home to get it and coming back to pick out my frames and fit new glasses with a hungry eighteen year old, a nervous ten year old, a husband on a conference call and 100+ degree heat reminded me again that I'm nearly FIFTY.

FIFTY! I groaned as I leaned in too close to the mirror to actually see if the frames looked age appropriate while still looking twenty-nine something.

Soon #4 and #7 were fitted in their new glasses and helping me pick out frames.  Try these, no.  Try these, hmmm, no.  Try these, these, these...  finally I put on a pair that #4 really liked.  "What, these make me look like a crazy old lady," I said, squinting at myself in the mirror.

"Mom, YOU ARE a crazy, old lady!"

"Hmpfff, let me tell you, Sonny, I'm only turning fifty and fifty's not THAT old!"