I have been to fertility doctors and there is nothing wrong with me…I just can’t get or stay pregnant. Plus, I am a lesbian so I don’t get pregnant naturally and must go through a procedure to try. I am turning 40 on all days this year…..Mother’s day!!!! So, not only is it the worst day of the year…but it is my friggn birthday….

Everyone one wants to make a big deal out of me turning the Big 40….I could care less…..I would rather the day go by unnoticed….and when I say I want to skip it …. I am being selfish for not allowing people to celebrate my life and their love for me. How can I celebrate my life and be happy with my ultimate dream of being a mother will have basically ended on 5-9-2010.

I have thought about adopting but can’t afford and forster care in my state requires a stay at home parent. So….I have to figure out how to live one day at a time without my dream. My days are going to work and pretending everything is ok.

Has anyone ever noticed that this whole world is focused on babies and children? Try watching primetime tv, listen to the radio….go into any store…etc.

via: The Experience Project

However, I’ve discovered a secret of my own that far outweighs anything peddled by any bestselling author or anyone with a bunch of silly college degrees or actual formal schooling: the secret of youth. Specifically, it’s the secret to guys turning 40, like your humble scribe, keeping their youthful outlook and demeanor. All you have to do is wait until your late 30s to start having children.

I spent a lot of years convinced that I had no business proliferating my own sort of genetic weirdness and sending more little Wilsons out into the world. It took a good woman who knew me far better than I know myself and in whom I found endless wonder, challenge and delight to convince me otherwise. Never in my life has a change of mind turned out better. Alex and Cooper, my sons, have taught me that I had only scratched the surface of my capacity to love, and that my capacity for patience still needs quite a bit of work.

It’s not all that sort of touchy-feely stuff, though. Take this afternoon, for example: I piloted my trusty Dodge Ram to the local home improvement joint and purchased one of the largest backyard playsets known to mankind for Alex’s third birthday. According to the trusty apron-wearing fellows who helped me load the boxes into the truck, the assembly will require 24 hours of labor by two people. How long it will take for one moderately skilled suburban dad with a full-time job and two classes this semester remains to be seen. I’m hoping to have it finished before Alex goes to middle school.

I’ve got acquaintances my own age who have kids. Their kids are in high school, heading off to college or threatening to make them grandparents. When I tell them I’ve got a toddler and an infant in the house, their initial reaction is to doubt my sanity and remind me that I’ll be pushing 60 when Cooper graduates high school. Almost always, though, they immediately begin interrogating me as to whether Alex is going to play tee ball, if he’s learned to throw a football yet and when I plan on getting him his own set of golf clubs. I hear a wistfulness in their tone, remembering when parenting was a simpler proposition and Daddy was the unquestioned authority on everything from why rain fell to how birds flew.

While they spend their quality time with their kids visiting college campuses and doing all the other work required before we turn our offspring loose on an unsuspecting world, I spend mine teaching Alex how to dig holes in the mulch pile and working on Cooper’s skills at the all-important art of rolling over. I wash and mix bottles, change diapers, answer myriad “why?” questions and try to explain in as even tones as possible that using crayons to color on the pages of Daddy’s books is not a good thing.

This summer, I have high hopes for teaching Alex the fine art of dangling a piece of Niblets corn in front of a perch in a manner that will cause the fish to pounce on it like a shark on a tourist. Some of my friends are looking forward to taking the tops off their German roadsters. I’m looking forward to teaching Alex the mysteries of the Zebco 404 rod and reel combo.If you’d asked me 20, 10 or even five years ago, I would have given you a list of things I thought I would be, do or have by age 40. Almost none of those, other than the salt-and-pepper hair and penchant for bad puns, have actually come to pass. I find myself not terribly saddened by my inability to Nostradamus my own future. Yes, I’ll be spending the years when most guys are learning new hobbies going to school plays and baseball games … and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

I turn 40 on Saturday. If you’re buying me a present, remember that I want it black with black leather interior and at least 8 cylinders. I’m planning on starting my midlife crisis soon, and I’ll need to be ready. Got a rant? A rave? Bigfoot tearing up your petunias? Drop me a line, anytime!

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J. Scott Wilson, Food Editor, National Morning Editor, Quizmaster, Columnist
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