I enter my second year of the forties this year, and I have to say I'm liking the forties. All those things I daydreamed about having in the future when I was a teen, and then labored (in six cases literally) to make real in my twenties and thirties are real. My handsome husband comes home from work and kisses me hello. Six kids have completely overrun this house, just the way I imagined they would. The must haves are had.
That's really great, but I'd be struggling if the forties weren't also a pivot point--a moment of transferred momentum. Somewhere I came across a study that said a woman's career doesn't really take off until her forties, so I decided to strike while the eggs were fresh and make a family, trusting that when it was time to refocus on my career I'd be choosing a strong starting point. This decade is not just about saying goodbye to my wonderful kids, it's also about becoming a published writer. I have a lot to do, and I'm excited about it.
Happy Birthday to me! I love it.
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