36

Getting old is all about the numbers... you go 365 days to add one more year to your tally.

This year it's 36. There are other numbers that are important in my life or cause me to stop and think.
3 - yes, the obvious is the three kids in three years but we also were married three years before we had our first kid.

48 - the number of the first cow that I ever owned. To be honest, I can't remember if I ever bought said cow or it was gifted to me in exchange for labor.
Ironically, when I started riding the bus, the first bus that I rode was number 48.

37.50 - the amount that is paid out to a top bet ($25) blackjack. Whenever I hear this specific amount I appreciate the work and hours that I put in myself to help put myself through college.

236 - the address of the first house that I ever bought - and bought by myself. The first house that I bought with Matt was 635.


4 - the number of houses that I have bought, either alone or with Matt

5D - the number of my grandfather's racecar... but also the number of one of my dad's cows that shaped the direction of his herd. I never saw the racecar but I remember hearing about it from my mother and hearing the memories in her voice.

52 - the street address of the house I grew up on.

100 miles - how far I've ever lived away from home - Minot and Dickinson both fit in that radius.

8 - England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, St Maarten/St Martin, Guatemala, Mexico, Canada, the number of countries I've visited... and twice to England and St Maarten both.

24 - the age I thought I'd be when I'd have my schit together. I didn't.

1 - the number of husbands I've had.

I don't know why 36 years makes me suddenly feel oldish. Don't get me wrong, I don't think I'm way old or old but I have become very aware that I'm not as young as I once was.

MJR walks into daycare with G wearing a headband (which is his sister's)
MJR: So, the headband, don't worry about it. He's in this Bret Michaels phase right now, we are just going with it.
Daycare teacher: who's Bret Michaels?

I'm fully aware that I'm a ma'am in customer service terms. I see a generation of girls younger than me either driving cars, soaking up white claws, and I'm not jealous of them. SURE, I'd love their freedom... to come and go as you please, to not be accountable to anyone, to think your problems and drama are huge, but it's all relative. I am okay with my problems, I'm happy to have little phases to come home too (I'd like those little faces to sleep through the night) but there's something about a little boy begging for a kess that I wouldn't trade for anything.

So there it is. I'm 36. Entering Middleaged-ness. I have mom jeans and mom shoes to go with my mom-bod and mom mentality. I can't complain I even got to share my birthday candles with a singr and a spitter!