I remember when my dad turned 40 in 1982. After all, I was 12. (see right)
It was a big deal, we had a huge party and there were pink flamingos clandestinely placed on our lawn in the night. Lordy Lordy, Look Who’s 40 was declared from many a card and answering machine message.
25 years ago, turning 40 was a big deal. Today? Well, my kids certainly won’t remember when I turned 40. My oldest was not yet 3, my youngest just 3 weeks old. While my parents got married young so they could get busy, I selfishly lived my life before finally settling in to the family thing.
Turning 40 to me, as a parent, has not been about what my body feels like, or how my looks have changed, or how my grey hair has settled in. To me, being a parent in my 40s has been more about worrying how I will navigate this life to the finish line. Just before I turned 40 I lost my job. We moved to a new city. 2 years later my job description was changed and my income dropped again. So “middle age” to me has been less about how I look and feel, and more about how I plan to provide for these two crazy monkeys for the next 20+ yrs until they can do it on their own.