Turning 40

 This is the last weekend of my 30s. For the most part, I enjoyed my 30s. I had both boys in my 30s. Did some cool trips in my 30s. Moved across the country in my 30s. Made some amazing friends in my 30s.

For the past week, all I have been able to think about, in panic-inducing episodes of extreme anxiety, is about my mom. My mom is missing my 40th birthday. I'm sure she would have planned something low-key and perfect. She'd be so thrilled her girl is turning 40.

I'm going to be in the same decade she was in when she died. It's taken 21 years, but it's here. Every year takes me closer to the age she was when she died, but 40 is hitting me hard. It's one huge step closer.

A week after I turn 40, exactly one week, my mom would be turning 70. I'd be planning her an amazing birthday party. Or she'd be getting ready to go off on an incredible trip with her bestest friend. 70 would be an occasion, people. 

I feel guilty for not looking forward to my birthday. I mentioned not celebrating it at all, but the kids got very upset. Aiden loves birthdays. He wants to celebrate me. Even if I don't feel like celebrating me. I love his heart.

He inherited that from my mom.