On Being 40

Next week I’ll be turning 41. I am enjoying my last few days of being 40. And I do find that I have enjoyed it.

It’s such a milestone age, isn’t it? Some people dread it, some revel in it and some just roll with it. I’m probably in the latter category here, with perhaps a touch of revelling thrown in.

40 has been kind to me. 40 has seen me completing my degree. 40 has seen me taking my children to Disney World. 40 has seen me enter my 17th year of marriage to the very best man that I know.

I’ve found 40 to be quite freeing, liberating. As I’ve grown older I have learned to just get on with things, without worrying about what anyone else might think. I suspect this is part of my nature anyway, but I’ve certainly got better at it as I’ve aged. Maybe this is something that gets better year in year out now.

40 is just a number, I know that’s what everyone says, but it’s so true. I don’t feel much older. I notice the physical signs of ageing as my grey hairs drive me mad, but inside I feel pretty much the same as I always have done.

When I think back to where I was at the last big milestone, 30, it feels like a whole other lifetime. Life back then was all about work, I loved my career. We worked hard and looked forward to our nice holidays. There was no chat about kids, they were something of a vague idea somewhere in the future. And now, well things are pretty different! Now I understand that life’s actually about the little things. It’s about those ordinary moments as much as it is the big ones. And I love being able to be here for the kids, though I am quite sure that they are a contributing factor to those grey hairs!

So I will look forward to my birthday next week, when I will turn 41. I always enjoy my birthday, the Husband and I are still big kids in that way, making sure we’re both off work and celebrating them every year. And I always know that no matter how old I do get, he’ll have just turned a year older every time a few days before…!

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