Oh Vanity of Vanities!

Last Friday was my birthday. Getting older is not that big of a deal to me. After all I am just a girl in my twenties, well my very late twenties. I don't mind getting older, however I do not want to look way older than my actual age. Is this superficial? I don't care. I have, however, discovered a few mildly depressing things over the last year.

First, as an average, my class of fourth graders believe me to be in my mid to late forties. We did a little page on estimation and discovered that they estimated me to be at least twenty years older than my actual age. Wow, talk about a punch in the gut. I was so upset, that I calmly collected all of those papers and threw them in the trash.

Second, I have a head full of grey hair. We are not talking about a handful here, they must number in the thousands. My hairdresser just thought I was being dramatic (me?) the first time I rushed through her door in a panic. She started laughing it off while looking through my scalp, then abruptly stopped, said, "Oh my God" and headed back for stronger chemicals. A special thanks to all of you kind hearted friends that tell me grey hair shows wisdom. At the rate I'm going I'll be giving out some really sage advice any day now.

Finally, my third discovery this year is that people in high school and college no longer consider me a peer. I'm not sure how I feel about this one, it isn't as if I wish I was a teenager again or even looked like a teenager (stop laughing Matt Hill) because I truly don't. I guess I just didn't realize how far removed I am from that generation. Exhibit A: On our recent snow day when we took the boys sledding there were teenagers everywhere. We picked a spot next to a particularly rowdy group of high school boys who were in the middle of constructing a very elaborate ramp for racing. I overheard one of them say, "Okay, start the ramp here and we'll end by that lady with all those kids." I literally chuckled at their cheekiness and turned to see what poor soccer mom they were talking about and My Lord, it was me! When exactly did I become "that lady" and since when are two little boys "all those kids?" I turned to Matt, indignant, expecting some sympathy. Instead he said, "Melissa, you should totally run home and get your letter jacket and show these kids whose boss." Hmm, even though it was love encased in sarcasm. he did make some sense. I like a lot of things about getting older and I guess I will just learn to love the things I don't.

So even though I didn't admit it then, I will admit it here. I see your point, Matt (once I put on my reading glasses, of course) and it was sharp and it was pointy but I think I got it.