I am 43 today. Phew, I said it...or rather typed it. The test will be if you are reading it. If I've really got it and practice what I preach I gotta hit that old publish button down below and tell the world (well, my readers, at least). Today I am one step further down the path of life. Not sure what that all means and I know I'm supposed to be older and wiser but today I'm just not sure I feel all that wiser. I certainly feel the older bit.
If you are a CP Family Blog fan and a faithful reader, you will know that my father was a jockey. My mother was a wee young girl of 18. My father was 23. And they must have been scared out of their wits. Mom had been in labour for hours and hours and hours and hours. She'd woken Dad up so many times to take her to the hospital he just didn't believe it when the time had really come. she had to go over to a neighbour's trailer (yep, we lived in a trailer park during those racing days!) and beg them to go get my dad out of bed.
Now my parent's are divorced and I soooo get that. I mean these 2 can't agree on which version of my birth really happened and they've been divorced for almost 30 years. I suppose the truth is somewhere down the middle.
I was born early in the morning in Omaha, Nebraska USA and I guess that was a good thing because my dad had to work that day. He was racing at AkSarBen Race Course. As a jockey you ride and get paid. You don't ride and you don't get paid. My father now had a family to support so he needed to ride. He was able to get to the race course just in time for his races. And he won.
When I asked Mom about my birth she says she can't remember. I get that, too! When I was pregnant and drilling my mom for her birth stories she would always say she couldn't remember. I was horrified. How could a woman forget the memories of the birth of her children? That's easy. We have to so that we have more children. If we could remember how much it hurts we would only have one and then we would tell the world how much it hurts and they would stop having children. And the human race would cease to exist. But I wonder how she felt on this morning 43 years ago.
43 years on and I can't imagine what an 18 year old does with a newborn baby. Heck, I was 36 when I had my first baby and wasn't sure what to do with a newborn baby. I know that my mother gave me loads of baths. She took me to the doctor when I was just a few months old with a red rash all over my body. When the doctor asked her if she was giving me any baths, she replied, "Yes, at least 3 times a day." Apparently, the doctor nearly fainted. The cause of my rash was way too much cleanliness.
So at 43, how am I feeling? Hmmmmm, my body ain't what it used to be! But I don't have any rashes. I don't party nearly as hard as I used to. Heck, who am I kidding? I don't party at all anymore! But I got a loving, loyal husband who makes me laugh and puts up with all my extreme eccentrencities. I've got the two most amazing children in the world. No, really! I've got a career that I am proud of.
My sister told me on the occasion of my 40th birthday, that a woman spends her 20s figuring out who she wants to be. Her 30s are spent becoming that woman. Her 40s are spent enjoying the fruits of her labour. That sister of mine is one smart cookie. I'm enjoying it so far. I like my life. I'm happy in myself. I think I'll just kick back and enjoy the ride for a while.