Birthdays: Fabulous or Freaky?

Three weeks ago, I became a grandmother and in the months leading up to that day, I was feeling old. Really old.

It sounds somewhat silly at 44, especially since there are women still having their own children at that age and beyond, but the concept overwhelmed me. My mind somehow concluded that becoming a grandma was the beginning of the end, and I freaked out.

Midlife crisis? If those exist, then perhaps it was.

It’s hard to separate the feelings surrounding that event with the usual reflective mood that precedes my own birthday every year. For some people, December 31st marks the start of a new year. While there is some of that for me when the calendar flips, I tend to think of years in terms of birthday to birthday. It’s probably a good thing I wasn’t a New Years’ baby. I’d be a basket case.

I’ve come to believe, though, that a little freak-out once in a while is a good thing. Once you dump all of that heavy baggage and just accept the changes, it’s quite freeing.

A lot has changed for me this year.

My baby is no longer a baby; she’s a mother, just like me. I lost my grandfather at the same time I gained a grandson. My job of many years also came to a close, but I gained two others, including this one that I never would have had the courage to pursue had the ticking from Father Time’s clock not been so… let’s say, inspiring.

Today, as I celebrate my forty-fifth birthday, I realize that my grandson’s birthday was by no means the beginning of the end; it was simply a new beginning, familiar and yet very different.

The pack and play and baby swing have taken over my living room once again, but they’re now competing for space with four, flopped-on-the-couch teenagers and friends. While I’m praising poopy diapers, I’m simultaneously participating in prom hairdo selection. One of my babies is graduating from high school while the real baby graduates from Newborn to Size 1 diapers. The contrast is astounding, not to mention exhausting. I may not be as young as I was back then, but I'm certainly wiser and for the first time in a long time, excited to see what this year and my newfound sense of courage will bring.

Will I overcome my stage fright and finally become a rock star or a grandma off her rocker?  Who knows? I’ll let you know what I decide after I’m done partying.  That should be about 9:30 p.m.

Are birthdays fabulous or freaky for you? How do you celebrate them? Is “Le Freak” still chic? Is it still acceptable at my age to jump around like a fool to a bar band? Not that it matters. I’m going to do it, anyway. See you next week.