I am starting to wonder if I actually peaked at 9

When I turned 10, I thought it was cool just to be a double digit age.  When I turned 20, I didn't even notice.  Because I wasn't 21, my 20th came and went without any hoopla.  When I turned 30, I was in a combination whirlwind of scary and exciting.  Ching and I had just gotten engaged, he graduated and was finally moving back to Boston.   I was packing up my stuff, giving up my single girl apartment to move in with my man CCW.  So my 30th birthday garnered little to no attention.

Over the past few weeks leading up to turning 40, I can't help but take an inventory of the past three decades.  I am starting to wonder if I actually peaked at 9 because during my childhood, I accomplished a boat load--learned how to walk, talk, read, write, poo on the potty, etc.  That is pretty serious stuff.  Other than my Sally Jessy Raphael days that made me feel great, the majority of my teen years were full of angst, moodiness and leaky tampon accidents.  My twenties had too many ups and downs to count and of course coupled with that inner voice that just kept saying, "Land a man before your ovaries dry up".  (Thankfully Ching came by just in time and he couldn't sense my desperation.)  And in my 30's...I did land that man and gave exquisite uterus, not once but twice.

But this one, turning 40--I don't know how I feel.  I keep telling myself not to be disappointed.   I am not going to wake up wiser or more attractive.  But I do try to relish that fact that I kind of feel at peace.  This is the first major birthday when there isn't something that I am trying to chase.  And I am hoping to be okay with that...