Well, it’s here. Although technically, I wasn’t born until the middle of the afternoon on March 27, 1972, legally, I turned forty as of midnight and have thus been so for nearly eight hours. How were those eight hours? Well…
About two of them were spent sleeping. When I wasn’t sleeping, I was being kicked by the Little Man, who decided he needed to sleep with me last night. And when I wasn’t tossing and turning from the Little Man flailings, I seemed to be getting up to use the restroom with greater frequency than normal.
So, it’s been just about what I expected from early-middle age.
This morning I got cards from Kelly and the kids, along with a most spectacular birthday present from my family (including my siblings, parents and in-laws): a Yankee experience. That should be a lot of fun.
After work, Kelly and I are going out to dinner without the kids (our friends Sarah and Jay are babysitting for us) and I am looking forward to sitting down for a meal that doesn’t have to be rushed. We got ice cream cake a few nights ago, but I think there’s still a little left for tonight. At least, I hope there is. I’ve only managed to have one small sliver thus far.
Meanwhile, the work day is business as usual, the usual meetings on my calendar. I’m looking forward to my lunch today, sitting in my office with my peanut butter and jelly sandwich and my June 1942 issue of Astounding.
Other than that, I don’t feel any different. I still think of myself as twelve and often act accordingly. As long as I keep that up, I think I’ll be fine.