I turn forty the 28th.  That's only hours away.

Maybe that's why I became "that lady" the other day.

You know the one. The bitter lady who feels the need to warn you that despite your current pleasure with all that's right with life, your world will eventually shift.

I've been that lady for some time now, but it was at the Christmas Eve service that I came to the realization that I was her.  It happened amongst sounds of babies accompanying Christmas carols of old. My babies are no longer babies. My thoughts are often stuck on that fact and on other passing pleasantries.

The clock's tick-tock seems to be steadily increasing. Yesterday I wore a yellow jogging suit that matched my sisters at our birthday party at the skating rink.  Now I'm forty all of a sudden.  The clock ticks without ceasing but my thoughts seem to have taken pause in all those grains of sand that have passed through my hands. My mind is stuck much like a clock with an old battery whose tick-tock stubbornly refuses to move forward.

Take the other night for example. I saw one of my friends with her two adorable girls at the Christmas Eve candlelight service. Her husband had to work.  From memory of my own solo outings toting diaper bags, a baby and another one whose hand needs to be held, I would imagine getting to the service was quite an accomplishment. She was clearly enjoying the evening which served as the first Christmas for the youngest.  The baby was sporting the cutest biggest red bow I've ever seen.  But rather than compliment her cuteness or the tiny red dress baby Spencer was wearing... or sharing a simple wish for a Merry Christmas, I came out with the ridiculously overused "Gosh, she's getting big!".

And then wait for it......

I gave her the dreaded warning. "Enjoy it. You'll turn around and she'll be eighteen".

Enjoy it... (because it doesn't last)....... I sounded like nothing more than the aging woman's version of "Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die." I walked off kicking myself for saying the very thing I used to hate to hear from less-than-helpful ladies.  I knew from my own experience that those words of wisdom do little to foster a greater enjoyment of your current life stage and in fact can be joy-stealing.  Before the evening was over I'd been dreadful again to one other mom I'd never even met. I felt like doomed Simon Peter who, before the cock crowed, had said what he'd vowed he'd never say.  Not once, but three times.

Our impulsive kind are like that.

Those of us who don't realize the hope and joy that tomorrow brings are like that too.

I'm exhausted with my lamenting.

"Goodbye natural brown hair. So long children with baby teeth who sit in my lap to hear your favorite book where Sheila Rae learns to share her peppermint stick ".

So many goodbyes in the ages.

-Some sorrowful like the last Kindergarten graduation and the recent moment when I shopped for the youngest's birthday without gracing a single aisle in the toy section.  So much heart-aching that comes out in the form of belly-aching.

Can't I just be mindful that things passed have a way of remaining with us by way of a special thing we call memories.

There's also remembering that four decades have brought goodbyes to some events that weren't quite so sweet. I don't miss the struggle that comes with putting flailing toddler bodies in car seats.  I don't miss crying that comes in the form of snot bubbles.   I don't miss leaky diapers, or diapers at all for that matter.

Looking even farther back I'm quite glad some things are dust-speck distant in my rear view like braces and bangs that invited to be bounced by mean teen boy palms.  And weird crushes on boys who don't know you exist.  I don't miss college exams and that professor who couldn't leave a single line of my English paper unmarked by her red pen. I don't miss my kid not making it to the toilet when they had a stomach bug or the mean teacher one of my kids had a few years back.

Life's all about learning to leave behind what's meant to be left and carrying with you those things that make life sweeter; memories without the bitter.

So hello forty.

Maybe you'll make me a little wiser.

Maybe you'll help me be a little more compassionate like you did the other night (a little too late for those two ladies I might add).

While I'm pretty sure you'll greet me with some ugly like those coarse silver hairs that thirty greeted me with.  But I have no doubt that you'll be kind.  You'll gift me through my growing children who are old enough to send me texts that make my day.  You'll gift me with more days with loving family that I get to be with during the holidays and a thirteen year old who is looking more like me.  You'll grant me new friendships.  And if I have it like it's been for the past two decades you'll keep the love growing stronger between me and that man I've been so blessed with.

I didn't like you before I met you. But I think we're going to get along just fine.