Thirty-seven. Yep. That’s really pushing forty. I mean, there’s no nice way to say it. I like to think that I don’t LOOK like I’m pushing forty, although I’m sure many days I look every bit my age and then some, as I shlep around my kitchen in pajama pants and Crocs. I’ve pretty much made it a point to never leave my house without fixing my hair and putting on a LITTLE makeup, though, so hopefully the fact that I don’t look like a total wreck is helping me win that battle against looking like an old frumpy housewife.

Last weekend, I went to a party at a friend’s house, and I chatted with a cute, young-ish guy for quite a long time. Eventually, the conversation turned to birthdays, and we discovered that three of us in the room had birthdays coming up in the next week, myself included. I mentioned that I was turning 37, and the guy I was talking to turned to me and said, “Wow – good for YOU!” ::insert sad trumpet sound:: He went on to say, “I would have guessed you were maybe thirty – NEVER thirty-SEVEN!” I told this story to my husband and he laughed and called me a cougar.

My sister and I were talking about our ages, and we seem to be on the same page about one thing for sure: neither of us feel like we’ve got decades of experience under our belts. She said she feels like she’s been screwing around, not paying attention, and she’s missed out on everything – like she looked in the mirror one day and saw wrinkles and gray hair, and she’s thinking, “How long was I asleep?”

In some ways, I can relate. I mentioned to her that I can’t even remember most of my 20s, when I was married to my first husband. The memories I have revolve around my daughter – I can remember exactly how she looked, what she was wearing, the TV shows she watched, and the friends she had when I was 25. But I really can’t recall how I looked at 25. Was my hair long? Short? Did I have a job? Who did I hang out with then? I have very little recollection of it. One thing I’m certain of: I probably was wearing overall shorts.

My twenties were such a dark time for me personally, mentally, psychologically. I was in a bad relationship and battling major inner demons – I guess I’ve blocked out a lot of it, at least selectively. It’s easy enough for me to conjure up a memory of painting an elaborate mural on my daughter’s bedroom wall, but I can’t see MYSELF in that mental picture. I’m sure that’s the reason I don’t feel my age – how can I be thirty-seven? I should be turning THIRTY right about now! I’m sure I skipped a few years in there somewhere.

I’m so incredibly thankful that I’m PRESENT in my life now. I feel so fortunate and blessed to be among wonderful people – I have the best friends, the best sister, and I’m married to such a good guy. Furthermore, I’m very thankful that I’ve gotten to a point (to an AGE, I guess!) where I can recognize that my first husband was actually a pretty decent guy, even if we were bad for each other at that stage in our lives. I think thirty-seven is going to be good for me. Maybe even look good ON me!

Yeah, I haven’t been posting much here lately. If you know me, you know that when things are rough, that’s when I withdraw from writing and try to focus on actual life. I wish I didn’t do that, though. I have such wonderful, insightful, supportive friends out there, and you always have great advice for me. And even when you don’t, you still remind me that life goes on and this too shall pass. I need to work on that, I guess. But here I am.

Things with the girlchild have been ROUGH lately, to put it mildly. She went through the heartache of a one-day breakup with the boyfriend she insisted to me was just a platonic friend. They’re back together now; whew! (Did you detect my subtle sarcasm, there?) During that one day, though, she really lost it at school – ditched a bunch of her classes, cried all day, and did some things that caused the school to believe she was a suicide risk. A couple of days later, you’d never realize any of that had occurred. She was…fine? One week after that, she got in trouble at school again, for KISSING said boy in the commons. This earned her several days of detention. And one week after that, she made a last second decision on the way INTO detention to SKIP detention with a friend of hers. This little act of insubordination earned her a SUSPENSION. Yes. My little girl, who until recently had NEVER been in trouble, and who had never even been in detention in her life, is now that girl. The one who causes teachers and security guards to raise an eyebrow and scowl.

And weirdly, these things have all happened on Thursdays. TODAY is Thursday, and I’m just keeping my fingers crossed and praying that we’ll get through the day without any phone calls from the dean. What does my child have against Thursdays?

It hasn’t ALL been rough, though. I’m beginning to feel as if we’re turning a corner. We’ve started seeing a new therapist who seems pretty proactive when it comes to finding the root of all these problems. We’re exploring the idea that there might be more going on here than textbook adolescent angst and depression. I’m trying to keep a journal of day-to-day events and the moods that go along with them, so we can try to see if a pattern emerges. And even in the midst of all this school-related drama and punishment, my daughter seems happier to me than she has been for awhile.

I’m really encouraged by the phone call I got from her school counselor this morning. They’ve decided to pull her out of a couple of prep classes where she’s really struggling, and put her in the standard classes. With this schedule change, she’s going to have an open period which they’ve decided to fill by making her an aide to kids with special needs. I think this is going to be fabulous for everyone concerned. For as much trouble as my daughter gives us, she is AMAZING when it comes to interacting with special needs kids. She is super patient, gentle, and compassionate with our son – something you don’t often see with 14-year-old girls – and the special needs kids at her school gravitate toward her naturally as well. They seem to seek her out, like they instinctively know that she’ll treat them with kindness. I have the most darling picture of her dancing with a boy with Down syndrome at the winter dance – both of them have huge smiles! I think this could really spark something inside my child, which would please me SO MUCH. I would love to see her realize some need to make a difference in the world, and find something to hold herself accountable to.

So that’s where we are at the moment.