JenInABind: 50 Strands of Gray

I was ELATED when I woke up this morning because 1. I'd actually slept kind of-sort of through the night and 2. Today was the last day of work before Thanksgiving vacation. Parent conferences went well last night, I knew what I needed to do to prepare for the day's meetings, and I even had my outfit --top to tips -- laid out and ready to go. Except, my hair had become a bit of a disheveled mess overnight, so I felt compelled to give it some extra love...when looking in the mirror to straighten it, I discovered...

And fine, you might not be able to tell I'm actually holding a gray hair, but you can certainly see the several other silver strands that *POOF* appeared overnight (root to end, too...it wasn't even a slowly-creeping-down-the-roots deal, either!).

I did what any other woman would do: I wailed like a banshee until Brian strolled up behind me and had to admit, yep, he saw them, too. He tried to soothe the sting by calling me a "silver fox" but neither version I envisioned --

did much to help my "crisis." (Although...be honest...how cool is Granny with her cigar? Rock on, sister.)

So I whined and fussed and lamented my misfortune. But the strange thing is, I actually felt kind of excited. Why? Well, there are a few reasons.

1. This is a photo of my parents on their wedding day.

They were both 18 (EEEK!!!). That seems so very young until you realize they were married for less than 17 years. See, my dad died in a motorcycle accident in 1990; he was 35, and I was only six years old. It does not escape my notice that, as of October 12, 2018, I will be 35 and Grace will be six years old. She does seem to be following in my footsteps, no?

So the very notion of mortality weighs on my mind as I approach 35, an age that has floated around my subconscious for as long as I can remember.

2. I was a good kid. Really. And yet, I still did this...

...yes, a tongue-ring AND cornrows...for SENIOR PROM! Junior prom wasn't much better.

Always pushing the boundaries in relatively harmless ways. ("Dat back, tho!") Of course, it was all an experiment in finding my way. Which brings me to today:

3. I am in my 10th year of teaching in one district, I just celebrated my 9th wedding anniversary, and my daughter just turned (a very precocious, I add all-too-proudly) 3 years old. This is my family.

We cuddle on the sofa to watch cartoons before going to sleep before 9pm most nights, and we take family selfies (felfies?) to entertain ourselves. I call my mom and dad (technically step-dad, but family isn't all about blood, you know) at least once a day. I adore my brother, sister-in-law, and nephew, and I continually marvel that my brother is not just a sibling, but a best friend, as well.

And you know what? I am so damn proud of the simple, stable, and "normal" life I've created for myself. I've earned every single gorgeous gray hair sprouting from my head. I'll earn wrinkles and crows-feet, too (already have a bit, if I'm being honest). And I will wear each badge of age with pride. Even as I was doing the obligatory complaining about my "mature" new hair color, I was reminded of a humbling truth: