Forty five

12.

13.

45.

Two milestone birthdays and a wedding anniversary. I'll let you figure out which number belongs to Princess and which one belongs to me. CT Dad had a birthday, too, and we'll be doing a milestone celebration next year for him. As for my age, I have to admit I'm struggling a bit. Forty five. Forty five. It just sounds so - old.

I've had other major milestone birthdays, when life events happened to coincide with birthday ending in "0". When I turned 30, my parents sold my childhood home. On my 40th birthday, I had gone back to work after taking a year off to be home with the girls, a re-inventing of myself and what my life meant. But I never looked at my age and thought, "Old."

For some reason, this birthday bugs me a bit. I don't feel 45. I don't look 45 (thanks to good moisturizer and Miss Clairol). I still feel 18. With perhaps a bit more common sense and driving a better car (ok, I'm driving a Honda CR-V, nothing flashy, but back then I had a '78 Plymouth Volare. 'Nuf said there).

Forty five is maturity. Forty five is five years short of being eligible for AARP membership. Forty five is mid-life (longevity runs in my family - my grandparents lived well into their nineties). Forty five means my term life rates are going up. Forty five means I can't check off the "35-44" age bracket when I'm filling out a survey.

But in other respects, forty five is considered young. As in, "Did you read that obituary? Forty five. She was so young." Or when you read about someone taking over a company and you find out she's only forty five.

Today I'm forty five. I'm older. I'm still young. I'm healthy, with a full life and a wonderful family. So I'll celebrate by taking the day off, going shopping, having lunch with friends and a fancy dinner tonight with CT Dad and my beautiful girls.

Tonight I'm going to blow out the candles on my cake, smile, and be grateful for one more day, one more year. Forty five. Wow.

I'll let you know how I did when I turn forty six.