The Hip Housewife is going to take a look at her livestock

So, my 40th birthday approaches.  "Consider the alternative!" my says to me.  I've been talking with other women who have all told me something different.  Some have said it's the best thing that happened to them and they really feel like they started to get a handle on life.  Others have said it sucks and they were depressed for a year.

Upon reaching 40 I will have lived to be older than Heath Ledger, Marilyn Monroe, Sid Vicious,  John Kennedy Junior, Buddy Holly, Kurt Cobian, Janis Joplin, Mama Cass, John Belushi, Anna Nicole Smith, James Dean, Brittany Murphy, Princess Diana, Patsy Cline, Andy Kaufman, Karen Carpenter, Jayne Mansfield, Eva Peron, Mozart, Hank Williams, Malcolm X, Pocahontas, Darby Crash, Joan of Arc, Martin Luther King, Bonnie Parker, Jean Harlow, Gia Carangi, Carole Lombard, Lee Harvey Oswald, John Wilkes Booth, Christopher Marlowe and Jesus.

In August, my youngest child is going to school full time and my time as a stay-at-home mom is going to be over.  I'm going back to school and that will be a new adventure for me, which is exciting but I'm also scared to death.

I'm FORTY, what the hell am I thinking?  There are women I went to high school with who are grandmothers now.  There are women I went to high school with who are taking early retirement.  I have friends who just paid off their house.  I'm still sitting on a mortgage with 25 years left.  We've been struggling to get our credit card debt paid off for a year and yes, there has been progress but it's frustrating.  (Why am I telling you this?  You know.)

My kids are smart and well mannered (mostly) but my son still throws tantrums and they'll both stand inside the house screaming 'MOMMY!!' while I'm carrying in grocery bags.  When I run in the house I find that they're trying to pull something out of the bottom of the grocery bag and want help.  I try to ask them how they could solve this problem without my help and they tear the side of the bag open.

I have dogs that jump up on people and bark for long periods of time.

My dishwasher is on it's last legs. The windows in the house need to be replaced as does the master bath shower/tub.  Our garage is packed with stuff that needs to be tossed out and most of it isn't mine so it's not a task I can complete by myself. Scott's motorcycle would greatly help with gasoline costs but it's not running and getting the cash together to repair it is a challenge right now.

Shouldn't I really have my shit together by now?  My shit appears to be all over the place.  I don't have a skill or an education I can build a career on. I'm a good writer but I'm not published or even bringing any money in with that talent.

Then there's the fact that I know a lot of intelligent, talented and accomplished women.  I compare myself to them and my little life is not all that impressive.  This is the same old whine I've been whining for years. It's just a little more intense this week.

I'm going to go eat my worm pie now.

Amanda's beauty tip of the day:  If your hair is drying out from hot sun and swimming, pile some Aussie 3-Minute Miracle on barely damp hair, braid it if it's long enough, put a plastic bag on your head and top it with a baseball cap or a towel.  Leave it on as long as you can stand before rinsing it out.  Repeat as needed.  I do this 2-3 times a week in the summer.