Jackie Robinson, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and Me

42.

That’s the age I became at 11:51pm yesterday and so far I think it’s a good age to be. I’m in a decent place in my life. I’m able to run 4 times a week again and am in pretty good shape, although with more “fluffiness” then I’d like. I’m attempting to let that go, and today, after seeing photos of me with that damn muffin top, I still think I’m pretty cute. Skinned knees and all.

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My son is doing well, and although we have a bit of a rough road ahead, we’re off to a decent start of the summer with weekly basketball competitions and many planned swimming pool visits. Hopefully my husband will be part of these physical activities, but we’ll have to wait and see.

Being a librarian is still a good thing for me to be. I sometimes think I want to do something else so I can be with my boy more, but I don’t think I can. I’m not brave enough to jump ship without a safety net, like some of my courageous friends. As much as I’d love to write for a living or go back to school to be an accountant (no joke), I’m in a place in my career AND in my life, where I’m just not willing to rock the boat. Does that mean I’ll never be great like the 42-wearing Jackie Robinson? Probably. But do I care?

Well….not really. Being “average” is not a bad thing. Don’t get me wrong, I still strive to be better in my work, my parenting, my running and in some of my relationships. But to be great? It just sounds like too much work, like something would have to be sacrificed and I’m just not willing to do that right now. Maybe ever.

I remember being in a meeting once with other librarians, and I said that I wasn’t willing to work past closing time. Several of my colleagues laughed at me and said, “Must be nice!” I was seriously annoyed at the time, but after a while I realized that those people were willing to sacrifice more than I was. I get home less than 90 minutes before my child goes to bed, so if I want to talk to and see my kid before he moves out, I better get my ass home as soon as the library closes. Period.

You know, I really don’t believe that a person can have it all–the career, the family, the social life. Something will suffer or maybe even everything.  And even if you don’t strive to have it all, nothing will ever be perfect or even “just the way you want it.”

I think in life there are good days and bad days. Maybe a perfect moment or two or a hundred. And if you’re lucky, you’ll realize that perfect moment as it’s happening and you’ll appreciate it and remember it and hold onto it.

Who knows, maybe Douglas Adams was right. Maybe 42 IS the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe and Everything, or rather the year in turning 42 you will find that answer.

Or was it 54?

Only time will tell, I guess. Until then, enjoy those moments of perfection, my friends. And may they be too many to count. ❤

 

 

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