veertig, quarante, vierzig, σαράντα, quaranta, quarenta, 四十

Any way you say it, 40 sucks.

I am only going to be 30-something for 19 more days. It's starting to sink in. (sorry Twinkie) When I turned 30 I had this Oprah-esque vision of how wonderful 40 would be. Megmonster would be all grown up, I would be wildly successful (and fancily stable) and it would be time for me to enjoy life to the fullest with travel, romance and double digit weight loss .

That was then and this is now.

As I sit here in my rented living room, balancing my depleted bank account (okay I did go a little overboard shopping this weekend) looking at H3 sprawled across the sofa, loudly snoring(where he has been for the past three days) and thinking about what I am going to pack little Evan in his lunch box tomorrow, I realize that 40 is not as great as I thought it would be.

I know it's my fault. I chose to meet H3 at the redneck bar and take him home (who knew he would never leave) I decided to reproduce again at 34 (it was not a conscious choice but there are alternatives) and I decided to take a less stressful but lower paying non-profit job and move us half way across the country (it sounded like a good idea at the time.)

Honestly I would not change a thing (well maybe I would not have taken the low paying job and moved away from home) but dammit, why did 40 look so great on Oprah?

I need to quit watching so much TV.