Officially 40

So, I turned 40 last weekend… and here’s how that went:

I was fully prepared for a magical metamorphosis. I stayed up until midnight — not for a party, not for ice cream, not even to countdown to midnight new year new me, etc. No. I stayed up to look in the mirror.

Why? Because I had a theory. Maybe, just maybe, turning 40 would come with an automatic glow-up. Like, some magical “adulting fairy” would swoop in at the stroke of midnight, wave her wand, and boom — I’d be thinner, wiser, and possibly a billionaire. 😂

I stared. I waited. Midnight hit. I blinked at the mirror.
Pajamas on, messy hair, and my brain crying go to sleep.

Okay, no problem. Maybe it’s a sleep thing. You know — like a caterpillar in a chrysalis. I’d wake up transformed. So I went to bed with high hopes.

Morning came. I shuffled to the mirror again, eyes full of dreams.

Still me. Same cheeks. Same hips. Same “you really should moisturize more” forehead.

So I stared at my reflection and said, “C’mon mirror. I’m 40 now. Give me some respect.”

That’s when my daughter came into the room, all sunshine and chaos in her pajamas.
“Good morning, Mama. Who are you talking to?”

Without missing a beat, I looked at her and said,
“Oh, at 40, moms turn nuts. And I’m proud, girl.”

She blinked. Processing. Then: “What’s nuts?”

Right. She’s 7. We try to keep slang and politics out of the house, which means she still thinks “nuts” only belong in peanut butter, and that’s exactly how it should be.

So here I am. A fresh-faced 40. Not magically thinner, not suddenly billionaire, but definitely talking to inanimate objects before breakfast.

But you know what? I kinda love it. If this is midlife, I’ll take it — mirror chats, mystery wrinkles, and all. 

Because being 40 might not come with a fairy godmother…but it does come with the confidence to be my own brand of ridiculous.

And honestly? That’s pretty magical.

Then I Smelled Coffee… and Things Got Suspiciously Sentimental.

After the mirror disappointment and a short conversation with my 7-year-old about what it means when Mama says she’s “nuts,” I finally waddled downstairs, still mildly hopeful that maybe the day would redeem itself with caffeine.

And that’s when I smelled it.

Coffee. Already brewing.

Now, this might not sound like a plot twist to you, but let me explain something: I am the coffee fairy in this house. I’m the one who wakes up early, grumbles at the sun, and turns into a semi-functional human only after that first sacred cup.

So naturally, I stopped mid-step. Who made the coffee? Who dares challenge the kingdom?

And then I saw it.

Breakfast. At the table.
Cards. Sweet, crayon-filled masterpieces.
Flowers. Real ones.
And a gift. A big one.

A huge gift, sitting right next to my chair, like it had been waiting its whole life just for me to turn 40.

And ya’ll — brace yourselves…

It was a bicycle. 😍
Not just any bike. A cruiser. The kind with the comfy seat and the cute basket and the “maybe I’ll start riding to the farmers market and post on Pinterest board” energy.

Let me be clear: I’ve always wanted a bike.
Not because I couldn’t afford one. I could. I just… wouldn’t. I know myself. I was never going to go to a store, talk to strangers about gears and tires, and walk out pushing a bike like I knew what I was doing. Absolutely not!

That’s too much pressure. Too much adulting.
And buying a bike online? Bad idea.

I am blessed. And slightly afraid to ride this thing in public. But still — blessed. 

Five minutes later—DING DONG!
I open the door… It’s my brother. Then my sister shows up with flowers.
I immediately started crying like I just won an Oscar for Best Emotional Human.

My sister drove 5 hours from Tennessee—just to be here. For me. 

First thing she asked, “So, what do you want to do for the rest of your big day?”

And my soul whispered: “Curl up like a burrito, chill, and binge-watch Netflix.”
But then—I looked at my kids… full of sparkly excitement, like tiny caffeinated unicorns.

So instead, I said with my best responsible adult voice:
“A cute casual dinner somewhere outdoors… maybe with fairy lights and a bonfire?”

As if I hadn’t just considered melting into the couch 3 seconds earlier.

So off we went—birthday squad assembled—into the night, for dinner under the stars.

And honestly?
It was perfect.
Laughter, hugs, bonfire vibes, and hearts full of love.

I felt so lucky—surrounded by beautiful souls who showed up, not just for dinner, but for me.

The Day After 40

My 40th-birthday excitement didn’t end there.
Nope—I didn’t wake up, dramatically stare into the mirror again like the Evil Queen from Snow White and whisper,
“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?”

Instead, I laced up my shoes and went for a hike.

Because…seriously…

Life is a trail of curved roads—ups and downs—and we’re all just trying to keep moving forward.

So I walked.

Breathing fresh air, brushing off the birthday cake crumbs of yesterday, and reminding myself:

Life is full of ups and downs… but we don’t stop.

We keep climbing.
We keep laughing.
We keep going.