I am how old?

Sometimes it creeps up on and says "boo". My age, that is, or shall I say a reminder of my age. So often I write my birthdate down and to me it seems completely normal and young to have been born in 1967. Then my kids say "wow mom...you were born in the 60's?" Yes. Yes, I was. This year I will be 40 and even I cant believe it.

When I was a teen, 1967 was a cool year to be born. I had friends born in 1965 or 66 and I was the youngest. Ugh. Who wants to be the youngest when you are a teen? Certainly not me. But...when I wrote down my birth year, it was still quite OK.

Now....what I feel the 60's were is the 80's. Twentysomethings. How did it happen that I am just eeking out the ability to say thirtysomething? What happened to 18?

So, yeah...I cant believe I am 39. Wow. Ho hum. I am sure one day...decades ahead...I will say, "hey! wasn't I just nearing 40?" (gulp)

The Bug

The "bug" has paid my house a visit this week. Insidiously creeping into our bodies and taking up residence until "evicted". Horrid. One by one we succumbed to it, questioning who ate what and where...looking for something to blame. "cheese" we deduced. Who knows.

Children that can't share a couch...shared a bathroom, still crazily unbelievable to me. I have Lysoled, scrubbed, washed and wiped...to no avail. We surrender. Then the calendar page flips and all goes back to normal. We eat toast and ginger ale, as if they were a holiday buffet. And we laugh. We remember.

To Chauncey: heal my friend...both outside and in. Hang in there, take it a day at a time! {{{{{{{hugs}}}}}}} and prayers.