40 something

I have a habit of referring to myself as an “old lady”. It’s not meant derogatory, it’s more of an ironic surrender. It’s ironic because my sense of what I consider to be old increases with every passing decade. Do I really think I’m old, no I suppose not, but I am older and I do feel it. Surrender, because I feel as I’ve eased in nicely to whatever this in-between stage of life is. Early forties, the age at which friends are either having babies or becoming grandparents. The age in which you think everyone is older than you, only to find out they are a decade younger. Also the age that instagram starts sending the mass perimenopausal, aka “peri” reels out. Pickleball, the importance of creme foundations on 40+ skin, crepey neck fixes, Dolly Parton clips, and how-to not dress like a millennial play continuously in my feed. By the way, I am not even sure I am a millennial, I’ve googled 1982 lots of times and I always forget what I read because it seems so ambiguous. I think I fall into the in-between generation or something. The latch-key age group that played Oregon Trail and is now expected to be the technology director of their own family unit. It just seems like some Gen Z made up these groupings to make fun of us and to give the boomers a run for their money, literally. I follow countless accounts that focus on gray hair; hiding it with a powder, a shampoo that washes the gray out, gummy vitamins with melanin so you can chew that gray right outta yo hair, and the last resort that I’m inching closer to by the year is how to gracefully transition from dyes and highlights to a full head of sparkling silver. I’ve also watched the following 90’s concert clips no less than 100 times each on instagram reels. It’s like “they” know when I need a good nostalgic dopamine boost. Nothing like some grungy 90’s vids to take the edge off. Anyway here are my go-to’s. …

• When young Gwen Stephani enters the KROQ stage and sings Saw Red with Sublime. “yum, yum”
• Mazzy Star at the Shoreline singing Fade Into You
• Pearl Jam at PinkPop 1995 (Eddie with that hair)
• Nirvana MTV unplugged. I love everything about it. The audience full of nerdy college kids, the pain, the cardigan, the guy who “woo’s” at 48 seconds into the David Bowie cover. It’s all so tragically good.

I’d like to add a new recommendation from a mom friend, the Wilson sisters of Heart covering Stairway to Heaven at the Kennedy Center. The cuts to Jimmy Page are priceless.

Anyway back to me being a 40 something, graying, sarcopenia-aware, AARP mailer receiving, old fucking lady. I fight with my husband about the tv volume, I feel personally attacked if it’s too loud, it’s like a full on surround sound assault. Even worse is having the volume too low. I have a theory Glenn likes to mess with me by turning it down and then acts like I’m crazy because I can’t hear it. Offensive, all of it. It’s 50/50 when I pop into a friends house that she will be wearing a house robe, and the rate is even higher if someone pops in here. I go to the AT&T store and ask them questions about my iphone, that “Stephanie” is a real whiz. I usually have to stand in line behind other old people who lost an app. I make egg and tuna salad every week for lunch. I recently enrolled in a genealogy class through our local community college and I cannot contain my excitement in the fact that the final class meets on location at the Genealogy Guild building. I have always wanted to go there and I think they can help me with one of my 2025 resolutions (wait for it). 3 years ago, I became an election judge but I guess the actual old people trump my beginner status because I have yet to get called to work a primary in my voting township. So far it’s just been small time midterm elections for me. I wear a blanket scarf around my house because my neck is always cold. A dickey is now apparently called a faux turtleneck and I have one coming from Amazon any day now. After much consideration, I recently upgraded to NPR Plus. I just keep upping the font size on my phone. My friends are mostly switching to mocktails, and I just googled wine with low alcohol content. I count cleaning and grocery shopping as a workout on my watch, and in my head. I search for upcoming blood drives in the area. Birds are becoming a more central part of my life. I bought myself a hummingbird feeder last spring. I call my neighbor to talk about the hawk that lives nearby, and reference my Illinois Birding book regularly. The group of house finches that live in my arborvitaes have provided us so much entertainment. I took my family to eagle watch weekend at Starved Rock. I have a flora and fauna apps, you know, just in case someone needs to a quick identification. I watch several eagle cams online, in fact, Jackie and Shadow the eagles of Big Bear Valley just had 2 of their 3 eaglet eggs pip. Pip, is a term for an egg crack, for those of you not following the nest cams. I get my gray eyelashes tinted. I am on the altar guild at church, but so far I have just been watching from afar, just dipping my toes. I like to pop into thrift stores to check out their jigsaw puzzle collection. I’ve had to cut back on botox because it was making my hooded eyelids even heavier, a real catch-22 of aging, if I want to be able to open my eyelids, something had to give. I went to the Dayton Cemetery Association’s Annual Meeting and Potluck, I am an associate member, and I have big plans on becoming a voting member this year. Speaking of cemeteries, I plan to visit the Brumbach Cemetery by bicycle this summer. I recently found out that some Hogue family members are buried there, and as for the bike, it just sounds fun. I love a good crossword. Glenn and I prefer day dates to going out at night, however we recently broke this rule and went to the IMAX a couple Friday’s ago to see Becoming Led Zeppelin. One of our other favorite “dates” is when we drop the kids off at sunday school and have an hour before we go back for church, when we either sit at Jeremiah Joes or he drives me around to look at things. I used to be very liberal in politics, I attended feminist meetings held at my university library and subscribed to the Hightower Report as a 22 year old. Now, I feel the shift to left-monderate. I check out “gentle reads” from the library because that’s simply the genre that fits me the best, I am who I am, I don’t need a murder mystery keeping me up at night. It’s mystery enough for me, when I log into 23andme and see a message in my inbox…

I have a feeling some of my mothers friends that are in their 60′ and 70’s will be sending me hate mail for calling myself old. I hear you ladies, and again I don’t really think I am that old but everything is so much different than it was even, 10 year ago. No one talks about it. I know these changes don’t just happen overnight. Now that the kids are older, and basically don’t need me for anything other than my fingerprint to download an app, I have caught my breath enough to access the situation and the situation is the Aldi Finds aisle is calling my name. I remember being in my 30’s and people talking about “just wait until you’re 40”. They talked about it like it was an end. I was determined to not let the 40’s get me in that way, but then I bent over, filed a paper and got a herniated disc. So much of womanhood is spent focusing on our child-rearing years, so it’s easy to think our sole value is in those pre-40 years. I have a friend that is currently listening to Brooke Shields Is Not Allowed to Get Old, in which she examines aging in the public eye and counters by painting a vibrant future for women of all ages. She’s 59 and is reclaiming her power, rather than letting Hollywood tell her to step aside. So please know as I joke about being old, it’s not to perpetuate “the past my prime” mentality, it’s to acknowledge that things are different but not in a negative way. Just in a way that I am noticing and writing about so you too can go spend your afternoons at the library, a potters wheel, or using an app to log bird calls and feel like a total badass about it.

Fears, a couple new random ones have crept in…

I have a genuine fear our society is losing important trades, skills, and crafts with each passing generation. I listened to a whole piece on how there are only a few neon sign makers left in the United States. Calligraphy, sewing, basket weaving, taxidermy all considered to be endangered. If you’re a cobbler, you’d better find an apprentice asap. If your job title has “smith” as a suffix, you and your field are fucked. Here’s a piece of news for you, gold bleating (the making of gold leaf inlays) is extinct. I’m serious when I say I spend quite a lot of time thinking about how all these trades are going to die off and we’re all going to be wishing that we had spent more time with Aunt Gertrude and her crochet hook. A friend recently tagged me in a post that the National Archive is looking for people to transcribe cursive handwriting from the civil war. Only 30% of our population can read cursive. Of course I applied for the volunteer assignment so I’m on my way to becoming a Citizen Archivist! I heard a rumor that our town seamstress was retiring so when I ran into her at the YMCA I tried to make my inquiry casual rather than an interrogative assault. I played it pretty cool up until the end when she told me that her daughter started to take some of her sewing clients on, so naturally I went in for a hug. Just a causal exchange with an unassuming seamstress and an oddly concerned citizen.

Another new fear is that all of the good artists are dying. I am still pissed that I didn’t think to see Tom Petty before he was gone. Ever since, I’ve been on a mission to see the greats. In the last 3 years I’ve seen Dwight Yoakam, Robert Plant, Bob Dylan, The Rolling Stones, and Beck. I’ve also seen Noah Kahan, O.A.R, and Cake, just for fun, not because I was scared of their impending deaths. One of my last google searches was “how old is Rod Stewart” followed by “is Rod Stewart still touring”. 80 and yes. See ya in Vegas next week, Sir Rod!

Cemeteries. I am not scared of them, I am scared they are being forgotten. There is so much history in these little family cemeteries that are scattered all over. I really want the moniker “old and cold” on my headstone BUT I also want to be cremated, so what is a person to do? I also would love to have a great-great-great granddaughter stumble upon my headstone in like 2500, but again with no stone, no one can find me. I have unfortunately collected several urns over the last few years and I recently called a funeral home to help me with this situation. I think the solution would be cremation, then interment of the ashes, which I am looking at doing with my mom’s remains.

I used to have fitness & eating goals for each new year. A 6-pack seems a longggg ways away and I am truly ok with it. I never had one in my first 4 decades, why should I now? The following resolutions will knock your socks off, I’m coming for you 2025:

• Join Daughters of the American Revolution (I am hoping the IVCC class/Genealogy Guild can hook me up)
• Become a Notary Public
• Learn to crochet (maybe try loop group at the library?!)
• Consistently take my vitamins
• Try cross country skiing at Mathessien Park
• Get a remote job with health benefits
• Eat more vegetables as a family
• What is Mahjong, how do you play it, where do you play it?
• Have someone refresh me on how to sew (should I buy a sewing machine?)
• Find a copy of the Ottawa Sesquicentennial book (maybe start going to estate sales?)
• Spend less
• Visit the Ottawa Scouting Museum

As you can see, things are booming around here.

I have recently entered the job market, basically for the first time in my life. I’ve been working on the family farm since I was 12 so I’ve never really had to apply anywhere or have a resume. I did a couple of odd jobs while I was in college but they weren’t the kind of jobs that required resumes. The Student Apartment Complex Snow Shoveling position was apparently open to anyone willing to do it. I am still working on the farm but looking for something with benefits to add in. I do eat protein like it’s my job but no one pays me for it.

Updating Linked In profiles, scouring Indeed for jobs, and trying to fit my whole life on a single piece of paper has kept me very busy lately. I don’t even understand what these job titles are, what are these acronyms? Everything that comes up in my job search is AI or cloud based nonsense that I simply can’t understand. I am of the age and of the ability that people should just know that I can be trusted and I will figure out whatever task they pass along, except for an AI type of sitch. My qualifications may not translate to paper but I have real life experience that cannot be denied. I translate cursive as a volunteer for the government for petes sake. Which reminds me, add “government position” to my resume.

My kids get upset when I refer to myself as old, it probably reminds them of my mortality so I need to start reframing my attitude about aging. Mind you, these are the same kids that say things like “Mom, were you really born in the nineteen hundreds?!” Why they gotta say it like that tho?Just this afternoon, I was talking about the 60’s, I always try to educate them on classic rock when they are locked in a vehicle with me. Pearl looked at me and said “you were like, alive in the 60’s right?”

Ok so let me try this new age-positive framework out, I’m still super cool…I don’t just play pickleball, I play advanced pickleball. I say yes to tik toks when Pearl invites me, even if they are in a public place (how don’t these kids care that people may see them do these dances?!). I am also willing to play any game or sport, anytime the kids ask, even if I am too tired to go shoot hoops, I get out of my robe and do it. I have not joined the sourdough bread making craze or the weighted vest wearing club…yet. Pearl’s friends keep me up to date on the 6th-8th grade dating scene. I still workout most days of the week, though I used to make sure that every movement counted to maximize my effort, I am little sloppier now and have adopted the “just glad to be here” mentality. Cleaning my house now counts as workout day, after all. I have been wearing crew socks long before the Gen Z’s made fun of our ankle socks. I transitioned simply because my ankles were cold. I think I’m going to get more ear piercings. Wait nevermind, I am not sure this should be in this short little empowered 40’s section of writing, upon googling, I guess ear piercing at this age is a midlife crisis type of thing.

I do feel more self-assured and empowered in my 40’s than any other time in my life. There is a wisdom, freedom, and confidence that comes with age. I remember seeing this transition with my own mom too. When I was a kid, she kept things pretty close to the vest so to speak. She was quiet, hardworking, and humble. By the time she became a grandma, she was jet setting all over the place and crashing weddings. I am Facebook friends with so many people that messaged me after my mom died, and said things like “I know you don’t know me, but I met your mom at a winery in California and then she came with me to my daughters wedding in Canada”. or “I met your mom at a honky tonk and asked her to be my maid of honor in my 3rd wedding”. I mean, I haven’t quite established that form of freedom but I am closer to that than I am to my 20 year old self. I’ve let so many things go, I’ve moved past so much hurt, I’ve forgiven and made it easier for people to forgive me. I’m more honest with myself and my needs. Sometimes I want to surround myself with friends, other times I just want to sit around in my robe googling “swimwear for mature women”.

Because this has been filled with so many bullet points, I’m going to go ahead and throw another one at ya. Here’s a list of my ailments in no particular order:

• 5 years ago I injured my back while bending over to file a paper. I’ve had 3 injections, Functional Neurology sessions, chiropractic care, NET therapy, IFT hypnosis, massage, E-stim, and bottles of Flexerol and Advil. I was filing a paper and now I live with a protruded disc between my L5 and S1. The functional neurologist told me my problem wasn’t just the protruded disc, but more the fact “I just stopped believing I could bend over”. Literally lack of belief that I can no longer physically bend over without bracing myself with a chair, a child, a knee. This morning I summoned kids from upstairs to come pick up ice that I dropped on the kitchen floor. The ground, it’s just too damn far away.
• Just 2.5 short years ago I was being a super fun, young 39-year old mom and was dared by my kids to jump off a 15′ double tiered water inflatable. I landed on my elbow, fractured my shoulder, and tore my rotator cuff in 2 places. It’s not bad enough for surgery, just bad enough to make me an even more miserable person than I already am. Injections helped but then I started playing pickleball and things went south.
• Some time long ago, I have what people describe as a frozen shoulder, it’s just what you get when you’re here long enough. Note; my frozen shoulder is not the shoulder that I fractured on the floating lake glacier thingy.
• 8 years ago I diagnosed myself with Reynauds Phenomenon. I lose complete feeling in my fingers and sometimes, toes. The tips of my fingers turn so white, they are translucent. I basically can’t function October-May, which also reminds me to add SADD to this list. I’ve assessed that my form of Reynauds is triggered by stress and cold. I am the proud owner of all things electric heat. Heated folding chairs for soccer games, heating blankets, heated vests, heated gloves, heated mittens, heated under gloves that slide into my heated mittens, battery powered heating handle things that I just stand around and hold. One of my friends thought I was vaping when she saw the lights shining off my rectangular warming pods. I wish I could hold an e-cig in the cold, I mean not really but you get the point, I can’t. Anyway, if you see me grocery shopping with mittens in June, you’ll know why.
• Eye problems. Where do I begin, besides holding the record for the worst case of nearsightedness at my eye doctors office, as of last week I think I need reading glasses. I also have terribly dry eyes that just water all the time. My contacts make things worse but I can’t wear my glasses in public because they are ridiculously thick, I guess they can’t really fit a minus 10 script into thin glass. Even though I go places with mittens in June, I haven’t completely given up.
• 1 year ago I developed tennis elbow and even though I gave up pickleball for months, it still rages, so now I just play through the pain and bitch about it to anyone, even if they don’t care or inquire.
• SADD. I probably should have been medicated for years, but I recently had a mental breakdown at my functional doctors office. I sobbed as he relayed all the good news in my bloodwork; mostly optimal ranges, nothing to worry about in my bio-markers, and told me that my visceral fat number was one of the best he’s ever seen at my age . Still I cried, and cried, after I couldn’t pinpoint why so many tears so he suggested Vitamin D, magnesium, and Lexapro. He told me that he knew me and knew that I would consider an antidepressant a defeat. He was right, I’ve often longed to take something but was just too proud. I didn’t want to be another mom on a pill. I was different, I was strong, I would just keep grinding through. I sat at my doctors office, the same doctor who treated my mom and grandma for thyroid issues, the same doctor who was more like a counselor after they both died, and that same doctor who was now lovingly suggesting something that may help take the edge off. He told me that I may just need to take it fall-winter, the season that brings the loss of my mom and dad to the surface and my cold human hands become some sort of Edward fucking Scissor Hands that I can’t use. Anyway, I took it for about a month and I will say, I felt a little less edgy and ragey towards my family, it was a real reprieve for them. However, I am not great at taking vitamins or pills (I’ll refer you to number 3 on my new years resolution list) so I stopped taking it. I do feel like it helped to get me over this fall/winter slump that I’ve fallen into the last 5 years but I also felt like I knew when it was time to let it go. It is nice to know that I have my Rx when things go south again in another 6 months or so.
• Fatigue, just in general, I am always tired. My dog sometimes lays down to eat from his bowl and I’ve never related to anything more in my life.
• Papercuts. I am at an incredibly high risk level for injuring my dry winter hands. Papercuts, just all the time, from things that aren’t even paper. I also catch the top of my knuckle on cabinet shelves and the like several times a year and they never heal, only scar. Probably circles back to my vision problems, my depth perception is off and now, also, the top of my knuckle is too.

The above list proves how old I am, because as we all know, as we age we love to talk about our health issues and those of others that we may or may not even know.

My Christmas list included a dust buster, a metal spatula, and The Times newspaper subscription, I must have been on the nice list because I got ’em all! They say age doesn’t matter, you’re just as old as you feel, in that case I’m a 118 with the biological age of a 31 year old according to my recent functional scan.

Thanks for reading, happy to be here.

xx