Corn cob trays bring on years of age

It's that time of year again: my birthday. I've blogged about age in the past. Once last year, several months after my birthday, I wrote a post titled The years of age. At the time I was inspired by the beautiful weather and the delicious beer in my hand. I was thinking about my health status and how time was slowly starting to change me. Two days later, Lily was born.

If I hadn't changed before then, I've definitely changed now. Back in 2013 I blogged the day after my birthday, in a post titled Achieved another year, reflecting upon birthday cliches and traditions. That was when I didn't feel any older.

This year I feel older. Maybe it is fatherhood and all the responsibilities associated with it. I'm certain that's part of it. But I can pinpoint exactly where the feeling originates. It's the joy I get from seeing Lily progress and incrementally change. I'm sure this feeling of joy is relateable for all parents as they watch their children grow and develop.

It's like last week when I was making dinner in the kitchen and Lily was playing on the floor. She had her favorite toys that always keep her occupied. This particular evening she wanted nothing to do with those toys. She had, only a week earlier, perfected the art of quick momentum from one thing that peaked her interest to the other. Now she was interested in one of the bottom kitchen cabinet drawers, happily grabbing the knob, troubleshooting how to pull it. Determinedly, she was able to inch it open, dip her tiny hands inside, and wiggle out the corn cob trays. Those trays were her new fascination as she tossed them around the kitchen floor.

The corn cob tray moments bring me more joy than I can describe. The corn cob tray moments are the happiest moments I've had in a very long time. Yet the corn cob tray moments are the realization that time is passing by so very quickly. These corn cob tray moments are the moments I've pinpointed that make me feel older.

In seeing each variation in Lily's development, I see myself older and changing along with her. She is the catalyst transforming me. Basically fatherhood has made me soft and mushy. It's flipped my world in ways unimaginable. This all makes me feel age like I've never felt it before. So to celebrate these new found feelings, I'm documenting these reflective thoughts with a birthday blog post and a birthday beer. Cheers to more years of age.

The years of age

Approximately three weeks ago I met with my dietician. It's an obligatory ritual as part of our health coverage, and it is honestly something I don't mind doing. Well, except for the eight to twelve hours of fasting before the required blood-draw in order to run biometrics like HDL and LDL cholesterol, triglycerides, and blood sugar glucose levels. This skinny man has difficulty fasting that long; I enjoy and need food.

Discussing my health status has taken on another level of meaning for me as I've grown older. I've begun to care more deeply about my health, and take it more seriously. While I never have lived recklessly or lived a lifestyle that puts my health in question, age has made me different. Eating a more balanced diet becomes conscious and deliberate. Caring about how I feel, and, listening to my body and responding accordingly has become a central priority instead of just plowing through whatever it is that seems more important than how I'm feeling.

So each year, when I get the results from my dietician and we discuss my health indicators, I take great pride in the fact that I'm very healthy for my age. And it's not necessarily the "healthy" part. It's the "age" part that has me most concerned. As each year forges on, I begin to cherish all that is good around me. This may begin to sound like old-man writing here, but priorities have shifted. Existing beliefs have solidified. I now focus more on the present and what matters most, dismissing more triviality, taking stock in simplicity. Age 35 came quickly this year, and I hope 40, 45, and 50 do as well. It's important for me that they do.

This thinking could be man's version of "nesting," as the due date of our first child passed on Sunday. Thinking about our daughter is definitely the driving variable in this meandering post about the years of age. 

But there are other variables. Like the fact that it's much harder to run these days. Even though I've been running more consistently now than I have for quite some time, running isn't necessarily running anymore. It's jogging. Even when I'm sprinting, it's jogging. And I feel those "sprints" the next day. Breathing when I run has also become more predictable. Mile three I'm about to give in. When I get past that marker, don't even get me started about the motivation and mindset needed to thrive past mile 5.

I've developed the habit of snoring. And not just little snores, but those old-man, bear-like, throat-and-nose-all-at-the-same-time (if you're going to do it, do it big) type of snoring. How do I know? Michelle lets me know by kicking, hitting, and down-right punching me throughout the night to get me to stop. This, obviously, wakes me up, while also interrupting my sleep cycle, making me exhausted the next day. Or, sadly, I wake myself up with my own noise. This definitely is an old man problem. I wonder if my dietician can run some sort of biometric related to snoring?

Hair grows differently. And out of my nose, ears, and in extremely long singular strands on my lower neck. I have no idea why this all happens. I refuse to be that one dude with the bushy hair you see creeping out of his nose, or flapping in the wind from his ears. I trim regularly. Weirdest thing.

Five in the morning is no longer invigorating. And neither is 9:30 at night. Or even 1:30 in the afternoon. Sleep, naps, and resting are all great activities. (Reference the topic of snoring two paragraphs up).

I've begun to notice that instead of seeking advice, I've somehow turned into the confidant. The adviser. The one people listen to more and doubt and question less.

By habit I listen more. I ponder and am more gracious with others. I only speak when it's prudent. I actually have multiple scenarios and experiences from which to draw upon, instead of seeing most everything as an exciting revelation.

I'm more confident. While I still care about impressions, I care less about making impressions.

Despite all these indications of oldness, I feel good. 35 yeas of age is just a marker, a name, language, and gauge of time. It is surreal. My dietician says everything about my health is outstanding. I'm proud that the care I've invested into my health is paying off.

And so tonight, instead of taking advantage of the perfect weather to go on a long run, I instead chose to drink beer on the front porch, watch the neighborhood, and write this blog post. Sometimes actions speak louder than words.

Achieved another year

There are many birthday cliches and traditions. Yesterday, I achieved another year of life on this planet. I celebrated with friends, my wife, and family. I ate some birthday cake. I went out to dinner and drinks. I ate more cake (and a cookie), a traditional nod restaurants give their celebrating patrons. I received gifts. Phone calls, texts, and Facebook messages reminded me of the wonderful, supportive people  in my life. Yet, I'm left thinking about two cliches:

I don't feel any older.

And,

Time seems to go by faster the older you get.

Honestly, I'm not quite sure what it means to "feel" old. I'm certain it will happen at one point, and then, maybe, I'll feel wiser, accomplished, or fulfilled. Since the passage of time has not left me with any profound feelings of age, I wonder why each year increasingly seems to speed by faster than the previous one. Am I trapped in some strange birthday paradox? Or is this just a common experience we humans enjoy on our life journeys until we wake up one day and think, Oh my gosh, I feel old?

I guess until that happens, I've gratefully accomplished the past year, and I anticipate the gathering momentum of my next birthday.

Happy 3rd birthday!

Charlie turned 3 years old on Monday. In that short amount of time, we have learned much about Charlie and his personality. He has developed into a very loveable, loyal, and quite hilarious part of our family. As a tribute to his three years of canine-life, I want to share three moments with you.

Last week, on one of my afternoons off from work, Charlie and I were hanging out together in the living room when we heard a truck pull up in front of the house and honk. Charlie immediately jumped up, running to the window. He stared out the window. I stayed sitting on the couch. Charlie was still. Then his tail started slowly moving from side to side. It quickly began to pick up a frantic pace until it enveloped his entire body as he shook furiously. His monkey noise followed. I knew that the UPS man was delivering something to our front door.
For as long as I can remember, Charlie and I have shared a love for popcorn. Once in a while, he might get a kernel or two. He knows when I am getting popcorn from the kitchen. And when I'm trying to enjoy my little snack all to myself, he is moving every way possible to try and get close enough to steal some. Just the other day, I put up my legs on the couch, as a barrier, to keep him from coming too close to the delicious bag of popcorn. Charlie rested his head in the blanket, and just looked at me longingly with his eyes... until he fell asleep there, in a very strange prostrate position.

For his birthday, Charlie received a small raw-hide bone. He doesn't get these frequently, however, when he does, eating one is the last thing on his mind. Since his birthday, he has been carrying the raw-hide around the house, clawing at objects that don't move (like the carpet on the floor, the couch, or the Christmas tree skirt) in an effort to bury it. After some intense clawing, he will drop the raw-hide and walk away, only to "discover" it later and continue to carry it around the house. As he transports it from various locations, he will make growling or monkey noises. I'm sure in several weeks, he will finally start to begin chewing it.

For all of those reasons, and many more, I love him. Happy birthday, Charlie!