Decades – looking back

The other day, I was talking with another parent from our day care about how crazy life used to be before kids. It’s not that life isn’t crazy now, but the form of crazy is so completely different. Before kids, “crazy” meant “I’m really busy running around from thing to thing, traveling, drinking, and generally partying a lot when I’m not at work or asleep”. With kids, “crazy” is more like “I’m never going to have this house vacuumed as much as I want and why are there toys everywhere and where was I supposed to be 15 minutes ago? Oh crap…”

So, with that in mind, a brief look back. Sitting at a mere 39, on the cusp of turning 40 a mere 6 months from now (eek!), where was I when I was…

9: heading into 5th grade. My middle school had a pool, and we had swimming class as our gym class during winter months. One year, my fraternal grandparents (who went to Florida every winter back then) gave me a pair of neon-colored bikinis, one in hot pink and one in fluorescent yellow. I never had the body for a bikini, but back then I was only somewhat chubby, so I wore one to swim class the one day. NOT MY BRIGHTEST MOMENT. I jumped into the pool like the other kids, and the force of impact with the water made the top go up and the bottom go down. I recovered the pieces quickly enough and I don’t think anybody saw enough to make headlines, but that was the LAST TIME those suits came out of the dresser drawer.

19: heading into my junior year of college. I was so excited to be moving up to State College from Altoona. A campus of 40K+ vs a campus of about 1,500. Plus, it should’ve been less backwater. I seem to recall spending much of this summer working during the day and going out with friends in the evening. I’m pretty sure that was the summer I saw Squeeze in Baltimore after winning tickets off WHFS. I went backstage to meet the band and ended up swooning over and crushing pretty hard for the DJ, Pat Ferrise. Squeeze was made of awesome, as always.

29: just moved into the house with my boyfriend. We had season tickets to the Revolution and often traveled at least a couple of times a year to an away game, plus MLS Cup. We’d gone to LA right after we moved in so that we could be at Grauman’s Chinese Theater for opening day of “Episode II”. I was gearing up to get into a Masters program (Finance) and heard by the middle of the summer that I had gotten in. The weekend before Labor Day, my boyfriend and I go on a random jaunt around the Boston area, as we were wont to do in those days. We ended up going in search of the wind turbine out on the tippy tip end of Hull, a narrow strip of land jutting out into the water. It’s less a peninsula and more like a sandbar with housing on top of it. We found the turbine and start walking around on the rocks set around the turbine’s base. I was walking away from him when he mad some comment reminding me about how he’d once said he didn’t want to live with someone again unless they were family. I asked if he means that he wanted his best friend to move in with us. As I turn around, there he is, holding out a blue box with a diamond ring. FTW

39: training for walking marathon #2 and prepping for dd’s first week of camp. She finished day care yesterday, after 5 years, 4 months and 10 days. It’s crazy. And this summer, we’ve already been to DC so dd could walk her first 5K, we’re taking both kids to see The Wiggles in concert (the first concert for our ds!), and I’m heading down to NYC at the beginning of August to spend some QT with my girls at BlogHer12. I don’t get out to many shows these days (although I try to get out to at least a couple of movies every year), and we haven’t been to a soccer game in a donkey’s age. It’s hard to justify going when babysitters are expensive and kickoff is usually coinciding with the kids’ bedtime.

Much like when I was younger, the weekends are still packed. Whether they were packed with homework, clubbing, homework, or kid activities, they just fill up. The weeks have been filled with school, work, work, work…but it’s all good. Working is far preferable to not working. And I like where I am and what I do and who I do it with. All pluses.

I wonder what I’ll write when I’m 49?

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