What's My Age Again?

"My friends say I should act my age.... what's my age again? What's my age again?"--Blink 182

Tim and I walked in as they announced us after our wedding to this Blink 182 song "What's My Age Again?" We chose this song (mostly) because it's Tim's favorite band, but also to sort of poke fun at our age difference. Age has never been important to us, and if you are around us you wouldn't be able to tell that there are a solid 7-8 years between us (depending on what time of year you ask).

Anyways... age has been on my mind lately. No, no, this isn't a "woe is me I'm getting older" type post. It's just, I am feeling so comfortable in my own skin and yet I feel like I don't fit in to any kind of age group. Let me elaborate a little. . .

I wake up early, hearing my baby's cries. I hate the morning, I'm not a morning person, but I've been forced into being a morning person since August. I'm still tired, still physically worn out from the day before and moan and groan and feel like I'm at least in my 40's (Not old, just older than me). Yet, I'm getting used to this "morning person" thing and have some energy that starts to course through my body as I gear up for the day... It reminds me of when I was a child in elementary school, maybe 7 or 8, and actually enjoyed the mornings and wondered why my teenage brothers had to sleep so late.

I take care of Lierre for a little while and then leave her with Tim to go for a short jog. I hate running. However, as I get into the zone, the horizon doesn't seem so far away and I feel how young I am and really embrace this mid-20's thing. I still have a chance to get back to some kind of body I might want to show off.

Later that day I will talk to a friend about their week/weekend and how they went out clubbing or about some new guy they met, some bad decisions they made (the fun kind like staying up all night and sleeping all day) and I feel like such a parent.... like I may as well be 50 and they are my children and I am both shaking my head at how silly they were, and feeling a slight twinge of envy at that freedom. The freedom to make really stupid decisions without it really adding up to much.

Speed ahead to later that day, where I am a first year teacher trying to figure out as much as possible without coming across as completely incompetent (when are they going to catch on to the fact that I'm "just a kid" and whyohwhyaretheylettingmeteachtheirchildren?) and ask the right questions and appear as unfazed by the huge job that has been handed to me.... and I feel like I'm a teenager about to be left with a huge group of children to babysit for a measly $7.50 an hour and "Sure, I'm totally fine with this! Go enjoy your date while I try to wrangle these children without somehow inadvertently killing them."

I deal with Fibromyalgia on a daily basis. I don't like talking about it much, there's nothing to really do about it, but there are times where I think if I have to do one more thing, if I have to stand up or pick Lierre up one more time, or clean, that my arms will fall off and my joints will catch on fire and I will be certain to get a fever because I already feel like I have the flu....and I feel like I'm in my 70s. I long for the days where pain wasn't constantly right around the corner (don't get me wrong, I have it so much better than some people with Fibro, but it still stinks).

Tim and I will be sitting on the couch, half asleep, forming jumbled sentences in our harried states of mind, and I feel like he and I have been married for years and years and years.... and then he pulls me into a snuggle and kisses my forehead and I am reminded how we are still "newlyweds" and I feel young and so thankful to have so much time left.

Age. I could go on and on about the constant see-saw I feel like I'm on lately, but I've already rambled without really having a point.... Age. What a tricky thing.