40…phew. This is not quite what I imagined turning 40 would look like.
These days, my life is filled with housework, volunteer planning meetings, cooking, and sometimes taking what my almost-5 year old calls “snuggle snoozes” with my two littles (after lots of sleepless nights, up worrying about whether I’m doing this whole motherhood thing well enough and praying my kids don’t think I’m screwing them up). It’s baking for galas, church funerals, and friends in need. It’s overhearing all-too-familiar movies like Wreck It Ralph and Sleeping Beauty so many times I can (and sometimes do!) recite them almost word for word while I’m making meals in the other room. It’s starting new routines for my kiddo’s ballet, tap, and catechism classes and spontaneous playdates. It’s beginning to teach homeschool and figuring out what that’ll look like for our family, all while nursing the baby.
40 is being married to my best friend for 15 years, with a deeper, richer love than I ever knew existed; someone who encourages, uplifts, and reassures me that he still thinks I’m beautiful despite my carrying lots of extra baby weight that won’t budge.
40 is settling into who I’m comfortable being, beginning to drop façades and caring less that I never truly fit in with most people. It’s resigning myself to the fact that I’ll likely never get everything done on time (Exhibit A…I started writing this with the intention of posting it on my birthday, now a month ago…🤦♀️). It’s finding my small but powerful niche of close-knit friends who understand and really “get” me. It’s gaining confidence in being vocal about things that are important to me, regardless of what others may think.
I used to imagine my turning 40 with vastly different priorities and being in a different place in life, perhaps with kids almost grown instead of just starting out in their newness and littleness; perhaps with a successful career and bigger house; perhaps otherwise feeling more like a “real” adult. But the truth is, I’m nowhere near that idyllic spot in life, and there are lots of days I feel like I’m still waiting to grow up (does that ever really happen?). I still seek advice from and find friendship with “adultier” adults, wondering when I might finally feel more grown up. I still want to be silly with my girls and remember the freedom and innocence of childhood. I crave some ultra-rare “me time” and independence that I used to have in abundance, before two little girls called me Mama. I used to be up all night by choice, and now it’s because of a nursing baby and a preschooler needing comfort from occasional bad dreams and growing pains.
Life at 40 certainly doesn’t look anything like a much younger me pictured it being, but I’m finding it’s just the way my heart needed it to be. I still have a restless heart but my girls have filled a hole in it that no job, no amount of money, no perfect figure, no perfect house, or any other material thing could ever come close to satisfying. Being their mom in this exact moment in time is exactly what I needed. They are the achievements and milestones that God knew my heart needed, and His timing is always perfect.
This. Is. 40. ❤️
infertilemidnightbaker 