From Diapers to Driving: Life in my 40s

Y’all. I am about to enter the last year of my 40s.

What?

How did that happen?

Am I really that old?

There are days when I feel so, so young—like I could lace up my shoes and run a half marathon without thinking twice (I’ve done several, after all). And then there are days when I feel every single one of these nearly 49 years—emotionally, physically, spiritually. My kids would definitely say I act my age… but I don’t always want to. I’m still figuring things out. Still chasing joy. Still learning.

Because here’s the truth: adulting is hard. Like, really hard.

Marriage. Kids. Work. Friendships. Keeping the house running, the schedules straight, and the family fed and functioning. Balancing all of it without losing yourself in the shuffle—that’s the real challenge, isn’t it?

But oh, my 40s. What a (almost) decade it has been.

They brought me beach vacations with family and friends—some of whom became like family. They brought trips back home to the Midwest, where time somehow slows down. I got to play card games and soak up time with Grandma J, who lived to 107 before passing during my 40s. What a legacy.

My 40s brought the sweet, chaotic mess of parenting: diaper blowouts, slip-n-slides, fishing poles and lines tangled in trees, and paddleboat rides full of utter joy.  There were golf cart rides with Paw Paw and fireworks at Nana’s every July 4th. There were stinky shoes thrown haphazardly near the shoe rack, not on it (naturally). And there were moments—sometimes loud, sometimes quiet—that became the core memories of this season.

I watched two of my kids walk into their first days of Kindergarten—my oldest started during my 30s, but the other two entered school in this past decade. I’ve seen two begin middle school, and watched my oldest not only survive those challenging years but make it through freshman year too. Now, my middle is gearing up for 8th grade, and come November, we’ll have a 16-year-old driver in the house.

This decade also brought transitions—selling our first home together and buying a second, just in time for a global pandemic to turn life upside down. (That’s a whole post of its own.)

There were also nights out with my girlfriends, loud and laughter-filled, and big, joy-filled moments of celebration—like my in-laws' 50th wedding anniversary, which we marked with a full-family trip to Mexico. I watched nieces graduate from both high school and college. I celebrated my brother’s marriage and welcomed the birth of my second nephew. I got to witness milestones unfold across generations, each one a reminder of just how much life can hold.

But it hasn’t all been joyful.

My 40s also introduced me to some of life’s harder truths: friends battling cancer. Personal surgeries. The emotional rollercoaster of parenting teenagers. Marital highs and lows. The slow, steady realization that not everything lasts—and not everything is meant to.

Sports became a lifestyle—weekends at the fields and evenings in the bleachers. There was high school cheer and competition cheer, baseball games that made me hold my breath, basketball buzzer-beaters, Tuesday night football, and softball tournaments in 100-degree heat. Each practice and game came with lessons in discipline, teamwork, resilience—and more stinky uniforms than I care to count.

As I stand a year out from a new decade, here’s what I know for sure:

- Time is the most valuable thing we have. It moves faster than I ever imagined, and no one is guaranteed more of it. So make the memory. Eat the Cake. Take the trip. Say the words.

-You can be thankful for what you have and still be hurting. Life doesn’t come in neat categories. Good things and hard things can happen at the same time.

- You never really figure it all out. And maybe that’s the point. Maybe life is meant to be lived in the figuring-it-out, in the trying again, in the showing up.

- Friendship changes—but the good ones stay. The ones who know your chaos, your heartbreaks, your jokes before you even say them out loud—they are gold.

- You’re stronger than you think. You can navigate change, raise tiny humans, have hard conversations, and start over—even when you don’t feel ready.

- Laughter really is the best medicine. Especially when you’re crying and laughing at the same time.

And above all, I am grateful.

Grateful for the chaos.

Grateful for the love.

Grateful for the growth.

Grateful for the learning.

Grateful for family.

So here I go—into 49.

A little wiser. A little more tired. A lot more grateful.

I don’t know what 50 will bring, but I’m walking toward it with open hands and a full heart.

If your 40s have taught you something you didn’t expect, I’d love to hear it.

Let’s learn from each other—because if this decade has shown me anything, it’s that none of us were meant to do this alone.