It's hard to believe.
Tomorrow I will be 35.
Advanced Maternal age thirty five.
Shouldn't I have money now thirty-five
Almsot middle aged thirty - five.
Holy crap! How did I get to be sooo freakin' old thirty -five.
Too old to wear a mini skirt thirty-five.
I am not sure why 35 bothers me. I was great with thirty. Thirty meant I was an adult, like the two kids and one on the way didn't mean that.
As I crept closer and closer to 35, I began to have issues with it. Forty I am fine with but thirty five? No stinkin way.
Maybe it's that medical science says my womb and eggs are now over the hill. Maybe it's the odd numberedness of it. Maybe it means that I can no longer be considered a young adult.
Maybe it's the inner conflict I am having with my carrer or lack there off.
I always pictured myself as a working mom. By now, I wanted to have a career. I wanted a family, sure. I didn't want to be defined by my kids.
I wanted to be the career woman, the wife and mom. Not just the wife and MOM.
Maybe it's just 35.
Maybe this will be my best year yet.
Maybe age REALLY is a number.
I'll let you know tomorrow!