And if you can recite the rest of that commercial, then you my friend, HAVE grown up. Congratulations, it’s a gift that many of our peers have not been awarded.

But as grateful as I am to have made it to 43 – you know, that age where you have to do the math in your head to figure out if you’re 43 or 44 – it also makes me a little sad that I’m wayyy past the age that I would’ve thought was “officially old” when I was young.

I don’t FEEL old. Well sometimes I do, like when I get out of bed and my whole body hurts, or when I find extreme joy in things like Jeopardy! and Sunday Morning with Jane Pauley.

But I’m torn because half (or more) of me still loves so many things that should be reserved for the young.

I’ll be riding through town feeling extra cool pumping my beloved Beastie Boys and recite: It’s a trip…it’s got a funky beat…and I can bug out to it… and then reality hits me when I check the rear view mirror and the look on my almost teenage son’s face is definitely not, “WOW, my mom is the coolest.”

He’s at the age where he loves me but thinks I’m “cringey”. My youngest will ask me to dab and say “MY NAME IS JEFF!” because he loves seeing his brother hang his head in embarrassment/horror and run upstairs to his room. (Of course I oblige every single time and do my best Cam Newton impression while screaming like a YouTuber from 2016.)

And then there are things I truly enjoy that the youngsters like, and it makes me feel like I’m going through a midlife crisis. I’m like “Cool Mom” from Mean Girls or that old ass mom that you feel bad for because she doesn’t know she’s not young anymore.

In case you didn’t know, I love Post Malone. I follow him on Facebook and Instagram. I know I shouldn’t because, well, you know, I’m 43, and he’s someone who just shaved his head and got giant tattoos all over it – but he seems so nice and his music is my absolute favorite right now; I’ll go days only listening to him.

Well, I’ve read comment sections and noticed that much of his fan base is old loser moms like me 😂 I am not unique in my love for Posty. There are many, many other mid-life crisisers out there who love him too. You’d think this would make me feel better. It does not.

But then I look at one of my heroes, Gwyneth Paltrow (say what you want about her vagina eggs and vagina scented candles – that woman is the shit.) Not only is she growing older gracefully, but I know that 20-year-old me would strive to be like her too.

I think what I really admire so much about her is that she unapologetically likes what she likes, does what she wants, and doesn’t seem to give much thought to what others think of it. THAT is what I’m going to strive for in my mid-life.

I just watched a Q&A on what her typical daily menu is like. Yeah no, that’s not how I will strive to be like her; there’s a lot of probiotic-y things I can’t even pronounce. But she did say she doesn’t like to go to bed on a full stomach, so she’s gotten “geriatric” and eats dinner around 5:30. I’ve been doing that my whole life, so I’m like halfway there to being like Gwynnie (but I’m still not going to have a conscious uncoupling with PJ.)

Oh, so the rest of that jingle is:

There’s a million toys at Toys ‘R’ Us that I can play with! I don’t wanna grow up ‘cause maybe if I did, I wouldn’t be a Toys ‘R’ kid!

At least this old girl still has her memory 😂👵🏻