Inchin’ on up to the big 4-0

I turned 38 on December 11. It was one of the best birthdays I’ve ever had. Also one of the most low-key, so maybe there’s a lesson here for me.

One of the strange blessings of Ward’s transition was that, along with blasting away my fear of death, I don’t mind getting older. It would be great and all to have the body of a twenty-two year old (oh, wait, I was pregnant for most of my twenty-second year; make that the body of a twenty-one year old) but I don’t mind the one I’ve got. I feel like it’s a pretty honest description of my life: I eat pretty well, but do indulge in some food and beverage vices treats; I exercise enough to feel good, but am not about to be confused with a marathoner. I have sun damage, but I still get a moderate tan when I go to the beach.

I am, for the most part, very, very happy.

I tell the boys often that it’s great being a grown-up. I love where I am and what I’m doing, so the years don’t sting as they go by.

I’ve written six chapters of the romance novel (I’m shooting for a Harlequin Blaze publication – yes, it’s quite lurid) but it’s been hard to find time the last week or so to work on it, what with Christmas shopping and decorating and work and the toddler and whatnot.

(So many questions are up in the air! Will Chelsea and Marcus GET IT ON? Will there be a Big Misunderstanding? Will someone feel very betrayed when a lie is revealed? Will the lie turn out to be for a very good reason and therefore okay? Will they feel like they can’t possibly be a couple because the hindrances are just too great? Will they realize that love is more important than those petty concerns? Will they make sweet and enthusiastic love to celebrate?)


(Got to get back to my lovin’ couple soon. I miss their antics.)

The big boys are having banner years. The Commodore Brad (yes, my fifteen year old wants to be referred to as Brad now) has been practicing with a band now that his fall play performance is over. He’s writing songs and singing some and playing guitar. Rockinrolla is also still playing guitar and drums, and is a key member of the middle school basketball team.

Rainbow is so dang cute and funny now. He’s talking more and more and more. He gives an emphatic YESSSSS about things he wants, and he’s all about the jumbo cardboard block building now. When he turns into a flailing destructo feels extra energetic, I bundle him up and put him in the backyard with the German shepherd and the puppy. They explore the perimeter of the fence and pick up sticks and fallen walnuts together. He’s learning his colors; his favorite is YELLOOOOOWW!!! And he’s starting to eat at the table like a big boy.

And, for a couple of months now, he’s been super interested in the potty. Like, he sits on it naked and tries, but hasn’t produced yet. I think he may be close, though. Without fail, he’ll pee on the bathmat before he gets in the shower or tub.

My fears about something terrible happening to him are, I think, become more like a pesky old war wound that itches sometimes instead of a constantly distracting pain. I still have nightmares (like, we’ll be in a hotel and he’ll run off and be messing around an unsafe railing that’s three stories off the ground) and wake up with an adrenalin rush, but they are less frequent. I still sometimes have to read or play iPhone Scrabble until my panicked brain shuts up, but I’m mostly okay.

I visualize packing up a bucket full of worries and fears and handing them off to an angel (a trick from a meditation cd) and that helps some. I pray for help transforming the energy I waste on worrying into energy I can spend keeping him safe and happy and fulfilled. That helps, too.

I wonder often what it will be like as his age approaches Ward’s age when he had his accident. Will there be this big feeling of relief when Rainbow gets older than Ward was? He’s already bigger, but what will it be like when he’s older, too?


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