Tag Archives: turning 50

93 bottles of anti-aging cream on the wall, 93 bottles of cream …

OK, so I don’t really have 93 bottles of anti-aging cream – on my wall, in my vanity, or on a shelf. I have one bottle of a store-brand eye cream that I put where the crows feet are slowly appearing every morning, and I’m not sure it’s working.

But I do have 93 days left before I turn 50, so here’s another nugget I’ve picked up and will use daily in my 50s.

17264942_10154536877053562_8554538634694687862_n93. The older I get, the better I am at laughing at myself. This has been a work in progress for the last 30+ years, starting when my good friends Mike and Kevin proved to me in college that they were going to laugh at me anyway, so I might as well laugh along. I’ve learned over the years not to take myself so seriously – stuff happens, deal with it or laugh it off and move on.

Among the things I’ve learned to laugh about:

  • My clumsiness – I’ve broken the little toe on my left foot probably three or four times, and the one on my right foot just as many. The first break of either of them came in college, dancing on the couch and lip-syncing to, “Welcome to the Jungle” on a hung-over Saturday morning. I also severely sprained my ankle during my bachelorette party while playing darts. Apparently I’d had a bit too much to drink when I won the game and started jumping around to celebrate. (I’m sensing a theme here …)
  • 50 for molly3My love life – This only became a topic of ridicule after my divorce (well, duh, I didn’t date while I was married …) and with the popularity of online dating. I’ve posted about my misadventures in the past, but some of the highlights include the guy who gave me a fake last name because he was married and I found out when as a reporter I covered an event he and his wife were hosting; the guy who showed up for a Friday night date packed for the weekend (he lived 20 minutes away); and one of my favorites, the guy who said, several times, he was an “aff-eh-KON-dee-oh” of weapons. I know he meant “aficionado,” but it was really painful on the ears.
  • My mishaps – I’ve posted about the times I’ve ridden the Cambus the two miles to my parking lot, only to remember as the bus was leaving that I parked in a parking ramp back at the hospital where I work; getting sprayed by a skunk in college, thinking – erroneously – that it was a cat; audibly “passing gas” while working with a physical therapist – and a cute one, at that; and then there was this gem from 2012 – an incident that to this day has me avoiding walking near anyone with a construction vest if I can at all help it.

There really are so, so many more things. Maybe I’ll finish out the rest of my 100 days with reasons I’ve had to laugh at myself …

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The Year of Me

Wow. That sounds kind of narcissi20160520_143643-1stic, now that I see it in front of me. “The Year of Me.” Who does that?

Well, I do. Or I will, soon.

It’s not what you think – I’m not going to go all self-absorbed on the world, caring only about MY wants and MY needs and MY chocolate. This is something different.

A few years ago, a friend and former coworker had the “Year of Chris.” She has two daughters, and twin grandchildren, and a husband, but she spent the year doing things that made her happy – or being happy doing the things she was doing. It was awesome. And I was jealous.

Having been a single mom since 2002 (you have no idea how much I HATE playing that card, seriously), there had been relatively few “Days of Me,” so the idea of taking a full year? That was amazing. That’s what dreams were made of.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not a bitter, angry person. In fact, I’m actually quite happy. I laugh a lot, I smile a lot more, I enjoy the “todays” because they’re so fleeting. I enjoy life – I truly do, and I am honestly happy doing the things I’m doing. Do I wish I had more money to enjoy it more? Sure. It would be nice to have extra to be able to go more places and do more things. But do I let it get in the way of enjoying today? Not in the least.

But this year is going to be different. Kind of.

My big dream has always been to go to Ireland. I’m third generation Irish-American, and there are still some distant relatives I’d like to go meet. And let’s be honest – Ireland. It’s beautiful. Flights aren’t horribly expensive, and if I (and however many friends and family members care to join me) stay in an Airbnb place, lodging won’t be too bad, at all. So, I thought, set it up. Make a plan. Do it.

In 2017, right smack almost perfectly in the middle of the year, I turn 50. It’s not a frightening number to me – 20 years ago I was terrified of 30, but 50 sounds almost exciting – but it’s a milestone and I want to mark it as such. So, sometime in the Year of 50, I’m going to Ireland.

But what about the year leading up to it? I don’t really want to spend a year in wait, saving every penny (though I’ll be saving several), waiting for the calendar to turn the right amount of pages so I can go on my adventure. Plus, I’ve loved my 40s, absolutely loved them. This has been the most fun decade by far – even with scraping to get by, failed relationships (which made for some pretty funny stories, I gotta tell ya’), and the loss of my favorite canine companions. My 40s have been great, I can’t just let them end on a whimper.

No, what I’m going to do in the year between 49 and 50 is allow myself to do the things I haven’t made time for/didn’t save for/made excuses for over the last several years.

I’m going to Phoenix to stay with a cousin I don’t get to see very often. I’m going to go to one of my college football games and try to connect with some college roommates and friends. I plan to go to Chicago. I’m going to go see an Iowa Cubs game. I’m going to go to the movies. I’m going to go sit on a friend’s balcony and have drinks. I’m going to do things for me.

I think we all need to take a year for ourselves. Just not this year – this one’s mine.

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