If I had done better with the first half of my life I'd feel a lot more confident about the last half. Now it behooves me to contemplate what I will do differently in the middle half.

Yesterday Rebecca informed me that middle age does not technically set in until around age 45. Which means that I still have ten years to go. That seems kind of odd to me, doesn't it to you? I mean, the notion that I am still in the first "part" of my life; not yet in the middle. My pride wants to believe it. Heck yeah! I'll live till I'm 90. -Forget about the fact that most people don't.

If I'm still in the first part of my life that means I'm in the same part as my children. That doesn't seem right. Those smiling goblin-fairies that ruin all of my nice stuff and generally make my life perfect and wonderful look to me for life wisdom. And my greatest concern is how to get them to the point that I am at. How do they deal with mean friends and nice bullies. How do I make them well rounded and still give them choices? (Because kids don't choose to go to the theater). Am I really in the same stage of life as they?

Then, as I'm walking up the stairs, I come across a picture of me, Rebecca and Isabella the day Isabella was born. I am a child in that picture. Rebecca even more so. And that was only 9 years ago.

So maybe I am still in the first stage of my life. And if life keeps creeping along in these day by day increments... maybe I always will be.