I have reached the age I've always dreamed of.
Happy sunny Tuesday friends.
Panera is bustling per usual and I am trying to hold-off on the chocolate chip cookie as a reward for getting back into the swing of things here online.
And I'm over here enjoying the age where I don't even think about the back of my hair.
Yes, it's true. I've finally lost almost all thought for what has happened in the night to the back of my melon.
It makes me sigh and grin.
And by the likes of the heads in this room I'm in good company.
I'm not sure when it snuck up on me, but there's no looking back now.
Pun intended.
My almost sixteen-ager uses a mirror to check her braid/bun and I sarcastically chortle because I have no idea the last time I needed a little mirror for such tasks.
Presently I'm not full-blown "twenty-times magnification" mirror yet for the hairs that are probably already hanging-out places I cannot see, but it's on the horizon.
Right now I've found that happy medium knowing that my foundation is blended into my neck and yet having no idea how the back of my hair is holding up.
It's a good place in life.
It's like taking what's in front of me and making the best of it without getting all up in arms about what's in those pesky rear-view mirrors.
It's more of a settledness with an extra helping of humor that allows you to laugh at what the "whole" of you might actually look like.
This season is less what everyone behind me sees.
And that's just grand.
I most likely won't have hair past my shoulders for the rest of my life because the big-hair nineties are back in style and because I've always been a "scrunch-and-go" kinda girl.
I am realizing that older people are lovely to be with because they care less and less about things until they eventually give-up completely and head to heaven.
Think about it.
They care less about "likes", "thank you's" and even who thinks they should wear what color.
When was the last time you saw a Chico's catalogue with depressed gray/white haired women on it?
Just sayin'.
I'm just saying that I am loving the freedom in growing up and might even give "curly bangs" a "go" if I so desire.
THIS is why 60, 70 and 80 somethings don't want to go back to their 20's even though it was the one era we all didn't need spandex woven into our clothing.
They remember the weight of everyone's opinion even though they were the slimmest they would ever be in their lives.
My kids laugh when I use the word "mellow" to describe someone who is easier to be with, be it a classmate, a staff member or church member, but I don't know of another word to describe what happens.
Age, maturity and perspective just allow for us human beings to make better friends and helpers to those around us.
We laugh but why do you think the Lord allows us to be grandparents at such an older stage in life?
Because we will actually have the patience to teach small fingers to tie shoe laces and cut up food again.
Now there IS a balance in being an older grandparent but not an ancient one who cannot even see their grandkids anymore for failing eye sight and all...
That was a slight reminder for my older kids...
I hope people look at me and tell their kids that I've "mellowed" too.
I KNOW I've mellowed with my own kids.
And if they read this and disagree I have about three cabinets that need cleaned...
Yeah I thought so.
My husband and I found ourselves cracking up the other day.
I'll hear some new thing making people crazy and say to him, "That's just not a hill I'm ready to die on."
And apparently I have said this SO often that when he asked me, "Is there ANY hill you would die on?" half-jesting, we both split a gut!
Yeah, the hills are less and less these days.
Possibly because it would be too much work to actually climb them to finally die.
I guess I should change that to, "That's not a hill I am willing to try to climb to eventually die while trying to die on it."
Just doesn't have the same "ring" to it.
It also leaves me with the memory of the worst scene in the movie "Sheffey," which just makes me so sad.
What I'm saying is that age is wonderful to have under your belt.
You may need a new belt or three but still, age is wonderful.
It's not a pain even though there will be new pains from such strenuous things like,
SLEEPING.
Seriously, just sleeping.
My husband and I find ourselves saying to the other, "You probably just slept on it wrong."
How that's possible I do not know, but when you hit 40 there's a lot of wrong sleeping going on.
This is a wonderful life we are living over here a stone's throw from Cleveland.
So even though as I try to send this out into the blogosphere my cursor will not let me add anymore to the title except "No loo" making this seem like a story about a tragic need for a British restroom,
even that is hilarious.
Life is hilarious.
And it just keeps getting better.
