Nearing the top of the hill

I have officially entered my late 30’s (I turned 38 on Tuesday). Someone at Bible study said, “Oh, you’re only six years older than I am.” I think she meant it as a compliment, but when you’re staring 40 in the eyes, knowing someone is 32 and has eight years to contemplate her 40th, well, I’ll just take it as a compliment and move on.

One benefit to tucking a few years under my belt is, I’d like to think, finally learning which hills are worth dying on and which ones are well, not. When I married Sean, his father said, “Christy, some day you’re going to realize which battles are worth fighting,” which, of course, tells you volumes about my nature at 22. It took about 15 years, but Chuck’s words ring in my ears often as I find myself biting my tongue over and over and over.

Quite honestly, now that I have a full-blown teenager and a pre-teen hot on his heels, I’m amazed I haven’t bitten off the tip of my tongue completely. Both Michael and Amy are in the throes of adolescence and although I knew this would happen, I cannot help but be amazed when I realize they truly believe I am utterly stupid. Thankfully they think Sean’s stupid, too, so there is some comfort in numbers, but it’s pretty clear I’m on the top of the stupid list. I try to comfort myself with visions of being a grandma because it is exceeding clear my kids think their grandmas can do no wrong. It must be God’s little payback to moms…

As I sit here trying to come up with a good example of my stupidity in their eyes I realize something else that’s happening as I pack on the years: I can’t remember a dad gum thing. Just this morning I walked into the garage with great purpose only to get there and have no clue what I needed. It’s the most helpless feeling; I stood there just looking around, hoping something would jog my memory, but nothing did. I went back to the kitchen empty-handed, feeling very empty-headed. Michael was there and when I told him what happened he put his arm around my shoulder (which he can do now that he’s 14 and taller than I) and shook his head as if to say, “Boy, Mom, you really are losing it.” At least he was kind enough not to say it out loud. Not this time, anyway.

Rebecca picked out this cake just for me. At her request the cake lady added the smiley faces to the balloons. So sweet! At least Rebecca doesn't think I'm stupid. Not yet.