On Being 40

The kids are with their Mimi a few days this week.  Before they left I fantasized about all the sorting and general organizing I would do to get the house in shape and how I would exercise every day and do a food cleanse and generally be perfect.  Now that they are gone, I find myself puttering around and sleeping a lot, and I have done only about 1/10 of what I expected to do.  Which may be ok, since my to-do list had over 20 items on it, plus I'm working some during the day and having a couple of movie nights with Twin Daddy.

Nonetheless, I didn't expect that I would do so little.  It has reminded me of what life was like before the kids.  I didn't exercise every day, and I was a slob, and I never got everything on my to-do list done.  Setting a good example for the kids is what got me back into physical shape and doing triathlons.  Raising my children in a sanitary, orderly environment got me to clean up and wipe countertops now and then.   And the kids' needs forced to me keep my personal to-do list trim and manageable.  This time at home without them has helped me to see that the kids aren't keeping me from doing anything I want to do with my life.  They are just keeping me busy and loving me with their whole hearts when I would otherwise be sleeping or dawdling or berating myself for being unproductive, so that's pretty good.

So that brings me to my main subject, turning 40 a few weeks ago.  I was pretty happy to welcome my 40s decade.  I see it as a chance to start fresh, wipe away the mistakes and insecurities and anxieties of my 30s, and generally settle into my authority as a mature, wise woman.  And why do I think I'm so wise and mature?  Well, let me tell you what I've learned so far about life.

First, I've learned that I don't really know all that much. This is a very different attitude than I had when I turned 30, pre-kids.  Now I realize that not only do I not know everything, I barely even know my own stuff.  Everything I think or think I know today may change by next year.  I know that most everyone is doing the best they can to manage the harsh reality of life, and I'm a lot less judgmental about pretty much everything.  At the same time, I know I may be embarrassed next year that I said I was wise and mature today, and may get humbled by even more examples of how judgmental I still am.  That brings me to my next point:

Who cares?  My petty thoughts don't matter that much.  I don't mean this in a sad and depressing way.  I just mean, who cares if I turn out to be wrong about something?  So what if I'm a little fat?  Who cares if I forgot to send a thank you note?  Who cares if my husband/friend/family member is in the wrong and I am right?  I'm a tiny speck on a tiny speck in the universe, and every person on this tiny speck has a thousand petty grievances about their lives.  I almost get bored of being annoyed by human stuff, because it's just so lame and pointless.  We all are really going to die some day, for real, so I don't have time to waste in negative emotions.  This is also VERY different from when I was 30, when I liked to spend large amounts of time dwelling on all the wrongs that were being done to me and that had been done to me since time began.

So there you have it.  My wisdom is, I don't know anything, I'll probably embarrass myself a hundred more times but who cares, and I spend as little time as possible dwelling in negativity.  These thoughts are very freeing and give me a lot of peace as I look forward to what the next decade has in store for me.