Happy 50th!

“My knees are killing me all of a sudden.”

I remember whining to those words to my older sister roughly a month after my “Big 5-0” birthday.

“And heartburn is suddenly my new co-pilot,” I added.

“Welcome to fifty,” she responded smugly with that sorry-not-sorry-look that only older sisters who have been there, done that, can give.

Pre-birthday, the thought of turning a half-century old was, to say the least, traumatic for me.

Now before you read this, roll your eyes and write me off as a cry-baby-drama-queen, just know that I come from a long line of tougher-than-nails folks who were not afraid of hard times. The women in my lineage are hearty, joyful and accustomed to making the best of difficult situations. They were teachers, librarians, bailiffs, postal workers, fire-spotters, farmers and wives of immigrants. If I can only be half as amazing as the women in my family, I will be set for life.

But I secretly wondered on more than one occasion if those same tougher-than-nails women that I am related to cried daily for a month before they turned 50.

The months preceding my half century mark was indeed filled with dread and tears and I am not 100% sure where this sadness came from. Maybe it was fear of the unknown or a sinking feeling that maybe my life was half over. Whatever it was, I spent too many days being as soggy and useless and a wet Saltine cracker.

A dear friend of mine, after listening to my sniveling and apprehension, advised me to embrace this milestone; a milestone that not everyone gets to reach.

Her gentle verbal kick in the shorts prompted me to pull myself out of my funk and do something my mother had preached to me for years. If your mom didn’t lecture you with the, “When life hands you lemons, make lemonade,” proverbial phrase…well…you probably just weren’t paying attention.

Although I would rather take those lemons and squirt the juice into the eyes of the looming Turning Fifty Monster, I decided to quit whining and take action.

Thus began my own little private campaign to do Fifty Nice Things for Me Before I Turn 50.

My fifty nice things began roughly fifty days before my actual birthday. My goal was to do something nice for me and celebrate this ascension into a scary, yet possibly exciting, time in my life.

I carefully plotted and planned my Fifty Nice Things and even began sharing my plan on social media. At the time I shared it because I not only needed all the emotional support I could get, but I also wanted to reveal to other women that it was totally OK to do nice things for themselves every day.

Nice things beyond the usual mommy-ish things like “showering” and “not playing Candyland for the 115th time.”

The response was positive, loving and overwhelming. Friends loved the idea and family applauded the fact that I was being nice to me. Several of my classmates who were rapidly approaching that very same age benchmark all swore they would do the same for themselves when their birthday neared.

My Fifty Nice Things for Me was not fancy either. There were no cruises, diamond encrusted tiarras, trips to Neiman Marcus, or even trips to Target for that matter. Just simple things that made my heart sing. One day it was an extra-long walk on a cool autumn evening and the next it was lunch with a friend. My other “nice things” included a new pair of boots, a massage, an afternoon of window shopping and quiet time chatting with another bestie.

Simple things. All for me.

So the bottom line is that my dreaded fiftieth b-day came and went and no one died, especially me. Though I still experience, “if I ever wake up in the morning with nothing that hurts I’d think I was dead,” moments, for the most part I am embracing my new age.

I’ve also learned over these past few months, as I finally get settled into this new milestone of life, is that most of us fifty year-olds don’t feel fifty. We feel like twenty year-olds with thirty years’ experience.

So although there are a few new aches, pains and maladies in my life, I also know the best is yet to come.

So if there is a birthday coming down the pipe for you that you are not overly thrilled about, celebrate the heck out of it anyway. Whether it’s your twentieth, fortieth or ninetieth, be grateful that you’ve been blessed enough to reach a milestone that others may not been able to.



Rebecca Flansburg is a Mom, Blogger, and Freelance Writer. Her veteran blog FranticMommy is all about moms, kids, parenting, and women in business (with a healthy side order of FUNNY). Rebecca prides herself in her ability to write in a fun, fresh, and conversational way and totally appreciates the value of naps and large quantities of chocolate. You can connect with her on Instagram and on Pinterest.