Middle Age

 

On Saturday I will be turning 35.  I'm not dealing with this very well.   I know, ridiculous isn't it?

About 8 years ago Ben was hanging with some guys from our small group when something came up about age.  Ben made a comment referring to 35 as middle age--he was joking, but often you don't know that he is.  From that point on we have laughed about 35 being middle age.

I have NEVER dreaded a birthday.  I embrace them with open arms.  I was so excited to turn 30--I finally felt like a grown up!  I think I might be looking forward to 40.  

But 35?  It's haunting me.  I am convinced that my body is falling apart.  I have hit the age that my chart would read "high risk" if we were to have another baby (noooo...we aren't planning it, but still...).   I have so much gray hair right now that I think it's time to wash it out.  My body aches and every time I feel a new pain I start panicking.  Yet I feel better than I have in many years!

I feel like my life is half over--I pray that it isn't, but I still feel like this.  I think about my regrets, how differently I would have done things.   I worry that I haven't made enough of an effort this far, and what if I don't make the best of the next 35 years?

Then sometimes I get this overwhelming joy when I think about my life right now.  I never imagined I could be this happy.  Never imagined that I would be married to someone who loves me unconditionally and takes such good care of our family.  I start looking forward to the time that Ben and I will have together and watching our kids grow.  I love where I am in life and I want things to stay this good forever.  

I know one day I'll look back on "35" and laugh that I felt this way, but for now it's just overwhelming.  I just hope that "35" is good to me!

No More Java

It is no secret to those who know me that I have a deep love for coffee.  A serious, deep love.

I have great memories of being at my grandparent's house and having a delicious cup of coffee, even as a small child.  My grandmother would have the old-fashioned coffee grinder ready and we would get to work.  Then she would brew a very strong pot on top of the gas stove (and sometimes on the wood stove!) in one of these awesome percolators (we bought one of these a few years ago and Ben uses it on occasion).

I can't think of any family function where there wasn't a pot of coffee brewing.  One of my most favorite possessions is the Bunn coffee maker that my dad gave Ben and I for our first Christmas together.

It was routine for me to wake up every morning, stumble to the coffee pot to get it going, and then proceed to drink the entire pot throughout the morning.  That's a lot of coffee.

Then, in the middle of June something strange happened.  

I woke up one morning and the thought of coffee made me sick to my stomach.  Granted I had some other health things going on at the time, but seriously...no desire for coffee???  

This diversion lasted for almost 2 months, and then I drank a cup.  I was a shaky disaster all day!  I no longer feel sick at the thought, yet I can't bring myself to drink any.

I feel like I'm missing something in my day, almost like I have said goodbye to a friend!  I really, really hope that it's only temporary.  I miss my coffee!

Maybe you coffee lovers out there can have an extra cup for me today?