I try not to wax on and on here at Littlejohnesque. The purpose here is to scrapbook virtually what I fail to do physically. I do most of my think-through, blather on and on about my feelings writing over at my Shazam blog… But today on the eve of turning 40, it seems appropriate to write all about my thoughts and feelings here.

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40
My friend, Matt, came up to me today and so kindly inquired about my birthday plans. I think I said something to the effect of, “I’m not talking about it.” He is ever the gentleman, though, and reminded me that it’s only a number, that my life reflects my good choices… Not necessarily in those words, but he’s so right.
When I look at my life, I’m in disbelief over the jackpot I’ve spun. My husband is the boy I would have manufactured myself as a teenager: tall, kind, artist/skater type with a penchant for pithy words, romance and chubby girls. The singer songwriter thing was so far out of reach that I never imagined it possible I would score so richly. My kids are gorgeous, brilliant and the kind of people you wish you had played with as a kid (on this website you cannot argue that fact). I have the job I’ve wanted since Becky and I spun on the bars in 2nd grade and decided to be teachers, I have more house than I think I deserve, living parents who are still married, in love and who still love and cherish me… Life is so good. So sweet. So pure. I ache with appreciation and gratitude for my life. I marvel at how much better it feels than I even dared to imagine. I am loved completely, immutably, unconditionally, fearlessly, and I get to love with abandon in return – in my marriage, family and I even get to share love with my students. Life has been so generous to me.

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It’s good I feel that way.
There’s a dark and greedy side of me too, though. That side has the ability to eat up all of that good with worries about a shortened life,a miserable, sickly end, a premature end. I can’t stand the thought of life happening after I die and I’m unable to see it. I want to hold the hands of my kids as they grow old. I can’t get enough of them, of this world, of this life. There’s just so much to see and do and it goes so friggin’ fast!
That worry has also caused me to freak out at each impending birthday. And milestones like a 40th are just the worst. Obviously there are a lot of positives that come with it too- that worry has driven me to lose a bunch of weight and get really healthy. And that worry has made me be able to show myself the marvels of my life- that’s why I can list them- so I don’t get all anxious and depressed about my sad life when, really, put into perspective, is pretty awesome 90% of the time. Put that list in front of yourself and try to feel bad. It’s really hard.
Anyhow, tonight as I got into the car I said to myself that, “I just spent my last day as a teacher in her thirties. Tomorrow I turn 40.” I really do mark moments like that all the time. As I pulled out of the parking lot I burst into tears. I’m ridiculously sentimental and I cried at the sadness of officially kissing my youth goodbye, at the marker of the moment- a last of something… I was overwhelmed with grief, so I started using my happiness strategy. I listed my darling husband, first, followed by my little blondies. Then my job, my parents, the people who love and like me, and on and on until I felt ridiculous for crying at 40 in the first place.
Matt was right. My age is just a number; it means next to nothing. I’m stepping into 40 stronger, healthier and happier than I’ve ever been in my life. Life is good.
Goodbye 39.
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I decided to use only photos from my last official day as a 39 year old for this post. Eyes closed selfie. Who knew? But wasn’t our run just gorgeous today?! We had to stop and snap one!


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