After I dropped the kids off at school this morning, I drove to the library to return some books.

Next to the library there is a long path which runs for miles to the north and south, mostly used by runners and bikers and one loose dog who once darted up the riverbank, through the trees and sent a biker flying over her handlebars onto the asphalt. I don’t know who that dog belonged to, but I have seen her sleeping in my daughter’s bed.

I digress.

Because it was so early when I returned the books, the path was mostly empty, save for a lone, young mother with a jogging stroller. My initial reaction was that she didn’t seem much different than I used to be; which, after some thought, wasn’t really true at all.

Of course, I don’t know the woman so it’s quite possible that we are a lot alike…though, when I say that, I mean her young-self and my middle-aged self, because I could tell by looking at her that she had her act together far more than I did at her age.

First of all, it was 8:00 AM. And, she was jogging. With a baby.

Second, she was color-coordinated and wearing nice workout gear.

Third, see the first thing again.

I was SO not that mother. As a matter of fact, I can recall feeling very disheveled inside and out. I can remember not wanting to leave my house because of the way I looked and I canceled plans all the time. I was overweight, my hair was completely unstyled and my clothes were outdated. Inside, I was a mess because I thought all of that mattered. I felt like a hag at the age of 27.

Now? I’m MORE overweight, my hair is a disaster and I’m currently wearing a shirt with a coffee stain and my husband’s running shorts from 1990. The ones that I fished out of the Goodwill bag because, hello? Perfectly good running shorts! Even though the stripe down the left leg has detached itself and hangs loosely.

But, inside I’m not disheveled anymore, no matter what I look like on the outside when I show myself in public. I don’t stay home and make excuses. I am living my life, enjoying my family, friends, work and the confidence that comes with age. Well, in my case anyway. After seeing that young mother and knowing that I would have never done what she was doing, I realized that 40 isn’t such a bad place for me to be. Either that, or it’s my Zoloft.

All I can say is that it feels good.

And, I didn’t even have to go jogging.

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Do you know how long 14 years is? It’s a long time. It’s longer than either of my children have been on this earth.

Let me give you some examples. In 1997:

– Titantic was released in theaters

– The first Harry Potter book was published

– Mother Teresa and Princess Diana died

– The Hale-Bopp comet came close enough to earth to make a group of people don their Nikes

And, my husband and I said, “I do.”

Fourteen years ago today, he saw a slender, well-coiffed, non-wrinkled, perky-boobed girl walking down the aisle. Today, he sees something very different. He sees tired, stressed and, decidedly, unperky. And, most nights, I don’t even make him dinner.

I have gone up two dress sizes and wear lounge pants most days. My hair is always up in a bun and I get headaches a lot. To be honest, I’m kind of a pain in the butt.

But, he keeps on loving me through it all. For better or for worse.

And, I keep loving him too.

Happy Anniversary, Dado Fali. Thank you for marrying me.

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Someone shared this picture with me today and it brought me to tears. It is of a father and son at the first space shuttle launch and, again, at the last one.

I

Photo courtesy of Chris Bray

It reminded me so much of these.

This is my husband at Cedar Point Amusement Park, circa 1975. Please excuse the watermarks. This is what happens to your pictures when you’re old.

This is my daughter at Cedar Point in 2003.

And, this is my son on the very same ride in 2007.

I got so choked up looking at the picture of that man and his father; I think because his dad looks so young and spry in the first photo and in the second one, all signs of youth have been covered by gray hair and softened skin. It feels, to me, that 30 years goes by in a fleeting moment.

Already, my daughter looks nothing like that little girl in the red rocket. My son looks exactly the same, but dudes, the kid doesn’t grow.

I’m sure that someday I will look back on his photo and think how quickly he changed from that little boy into a man, the way that I look at my daughter and barely recognize her here. Last night we were talking about how, in six years, she’ll be 18. EIGHTEEN. And, six years goes by like that. *snap*

I hope that someday my kids recreate a picture of their childhood with their own children and that they cherish the shared memories. And, I hope that I’m around 30 years from now to see that they do. Gray hair, soft skin and all.

But, more than anything, I really hope that Cedar Point gets some new rides.

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A few years ago, I was reading a USA Today article about how anyone who was anyone online, had to be on Twitter.  My original thought was, thank goodness I’m a nobody!  I don’t have time for that nonsense!

The article mentioned that the best practice for web users was to, at the very least, secure a Twitter user name before someone else scooped it up.  I decided to join, but that was the only thing I was going to do…just obtain the name @MomoFali so it wouldn’t get taken.  I signed up the very same day I read that article.

That was 10,000 tweets ago.

I could go on and on about the benefits of Twitter.  Just ask my husband.  Most notably, Twitter got me a job.  Holla! It also got me a freezer full of meat, a mention in Ladies Home Journal, roommates at conferences, product recommendations from trusted professionals, blog traffic, great relationships with sponsors, invaluable friendships, help with 6th grade homework and, more than a few times, it has settled an argument in my house.

Do you want help brainstorming when you need a list of red-headed, literary characters for your daughter because the next day is dress-as-a-red-headed-literary-character-day at school?  Go ask Twitter.  She can help you.  Anne of Green Gables, anyone?

Any time of the day or night, I can log on to Twitter and find one of my friends there.  Friends from all over the world with whom I can have instant conversations.  With Twitter, I even helped to find a lost dog when someone in my neighborhood said he was missing.  Within minutes, word can spread just about anywhere you want it to.  Maybe even where you don’t.  Watch yourself, now.

Of course, there can also be a lot of nonsense on Twitter, as you can see from my Dilaudid tweets and some of these daily updates I sent:

Take THAT, all my friends at #mom2summit! We’re talking about NOUNS on Twitter tonight! Yeah, and sentence diagrams. Booyah!

I got a clove filling. Now I’m craving pumpkin pie.

These women on the #Oscars are beautiful, but I’m eating trail mix. With M&M’s. I win.

My husband just got my daughter to agree to read The Lord of the Rings trilogy by bribing her WITH A NACHO. As in, singular.

How old do I sound when I tell you I’m looking at a catalog of compression stockings?

Among the Christmas Ale, I found a Harvest Moon. This is the equivalent of time travel, no?

Conversation from the other room…Kid #1, “Did you fart?” Kid #2, “No, but my duck did.”

I am wearing the mommy and baby dolphin necklace my son bought me at Santa giftland. Because nothing says, “I love you” like Flipper.

I am not going to buy a book for which the TV ad says it is, “Un-put-down-able.” No offense, but I like real words.

Took the kale chips out of the oven, covered the baking sheet with parchment paper and now am baking cookies. I am an oxymoron.

The best thing about Twitter is that social people, like me, don’t have to stop being social.  Ever.  This is great for me and for my husband, because sometimes I want to talk about gladiator sandals and he just wants to watch SportsCenter.

My BFF once told me that the definition of an introvert or extrovert isn’t how outgoing you are, but whether you seek people or quiet time inside yourself when you want to recharge.  I’m definitely an extrovert.

Sure, downtime is great sometimes, but being able to talk about philosophy, dill pickles or the latest hairstyle, anytime you want, is pretty awesome too.

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