Getting older, but counting my blessings ... sort of

That's what I'll keep telling myself this morning as I creak, pop and groan my way out of bed -- my first day as a 48-year-old woman.

That's what it says on my birth certificate anyway. Since I feel 24 in my heart and 72 in my body, I guess that's fairly accurate.

I've never been one to moan and groan about the passing of the years because I think complaining about the passage of time and trying to stop, slow or disguise it is a lot like trying to teach cats to share. It's a waste of time and costs a lot of money at the plastic surgeon's.

So I will, after taking my migraine meds, my blood pressure meds, my diuretics and asthma treatment -- try to count my blessings and celebrate the fact that I'm getting old. Er. Older.

Top 10 reasons to celebrate my birthday

10. The number of birthdays I have yet to suffer through is now fewer than the ones I've already had to suffer through.

9. Since my husband remembered both our anniversary and Valentines Day without being reminded, I'll regain some guilt leverage when he forgets my birthday.

8. No matter how old I get, my husband will always be older.

7. Senior discounts are only a few German chocolate candle-loaded cakes away

6. I will never, ever, ever have to go to a high school dance again.

5. Time has allowed me to realize that not only am I not the center of the universe, I don't want to be the center of the universe.

4. I will never, ever, ever be a teenager again (see previous entry.)

3. If I had to choose between bad hips or college angst, I'll take the bad hips. They can be replaced. Angst only should be.

2. I get to say to my kids, "When I was your age ..." just to let them know how good they've got it.

1. I now know all of the words to every song they play on the classic oldies channels.

Of course, I'm lying through my teeth -- even the real ones -- when I say all this. No one really wants to get "older," because the next stop is "deader." We all want to have our sharp, experienced middle-aged minds transplanted into young, strong teenage bodies so we can conquer the world. Or the new remote control.

I think that's what all this fascination with the Teenybopper Transylvanians is all about. Teenagers may be clueless, but they aren't stupid. They want to live forever, too, and they want to do it as teenagers -- no hearing aids, no peculiar smells, no panic attacks at the sight of a remote control with more than 10 buttons ...

What better way to live young and (sort of) healthy forever than as a blood-sucking parasite with no soul? It's either become a vampire or get into politics.

The Top 10 reasons I wish I were younger (but still knew what I know now)

10. I'd finish college on the first go-round

9. I could remember where I left that valuable coin my uncle sent me 20 years ago

8. I could get out of bed without my joints sounding like a commercial for Rice Krispies. Or a trash compactor.

7. What happened on Jersey Shore would really, really matter to me and I could give up worrying about things like affordable health care, war, and mortgage payments.

6. I would know how to get new features hooked up to my computer without a five-hour conference call with Rajev in Mumbai and Clarence in Boise.

Okay, I ran out of reasons. Maybe getting older isn't that bad, since I can think of more reasons to enjoy my age than to long for the one gone by. The greatest gift the years and experience have given me is perspective. My sons' heartaches and dating woes may seem silly and trivial to me now, but I can remember all too well how much it hurts when a young heart breaks. Old me looking back knows it will heal, but the young me can't hear me shouting down through the ages.

Or maybe I'm not shouting loud enough. Hard to tell, with the tinnitus and sinusitis and the strange rumblings after certain meals that never bothered me before...

Ah, well, you know what they say about getting older.

It beats the alternative.