I spent my 40th birthday at a restaurant overlooking the ocean in Orange County. I had a conversation with with door man and I told him that it was my birthday.

“How old do you think I am?” I said, bracing myself.

He looked me over and said “30?”

I was shocked.

“30-what?” I said.

“30.” He said.

I smiled so hard.

“Actually, I turned 40 tonight!”

“NO way!” he responded. “You don’t look 40 at all!”

A few months later, I was at a party in Miami. The bartender was a handsome, young man. We got into a deep conversation about not letting me drink too much wine and “how old do you think I am?” came up for some reason that I can’t explain.

“32?” He said.

I smiled and said “Actually, I’m 40.”

He was impressed and I can’t lie, I felt proud.

(Me, in the middle, at the party. The smile on my face is says “I’m 40, but everyone thinks I’m 30.”)

A couple of weeks ago, I was in line at Target. There was a young couple buying toys for their little boy. I started a conversation with the lady.

“These toys make me miss my boys being little!” I said.

We started talking about kids and how fast they grow up and how one day you blink and they are 19 and in Marine Corps boot camp.

“No way.” Her husband said.

“No, really. My son is in boot camp! I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“I wasn’t talking about your son. I meant there’s no way you have a son old enough to be in the Marine Corps.”

“Oh, but I do. He’s 19.”

“I refuse to believe it.” He said

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, while his wife agreed. “There’s no way you’re older than 30.”

Just like I once believed I looked like a baby angel when I sleep, I was starting to believe that I do not look my age. I look young! 32 AT THE VERY OLDEST! I’m so blessed with great skin! And NO PLASTIC SURGERY OR BOTOX! Pretty Sleeping Youthful Baby Angel Face!

On Thursday night, I found myself in a bar in Times Square dancing and laughing with two of my very best friends. The bar was filled with people of all ages. We eventually made friends with a really fun group of people. They were young– definitely NOT in their 40’s. At some point, one of the girls said “Today is *insert name here*’s birthday!”

“Happy Birthday!” I shouted. “How old are you?”

“Oh, I’m old.” He said. “27.”

I laughed. You think THAT’S old? I’m old.

Feeling confident in my I Don’t Look As Old As I Actually Am status, I blurted out “How old do you think I am?”

He didn’t want to play along at first.

“Go ahead! Say it! You won’t offend me!”

(Sleeping Baby Youthful Angel Face.)

He looked at my face. I smiled all confidently.

……

……

“Early 40’s.”

Leave it to a New Yorker to have the balls to be honest with me. Stay real, NYC.

Ever since I received the phone call from my son telling me he was injured and dropped from his company, I’ve been feeling an overwhelming sense of sadness. Not for myself, but for what my son must be going through. I can’t imagine how much it sucks for him to have bonded with the guys in his platoon over the past 5 weeks and then to be held back while they all move on to phase two training.

I have a hard time sleeping at night. I replay his phone call over and over in my head. He sounded so sad, so not himself.

“They’re dropping me from my company and I won’t be moving on to phase two training.”

I could hear the disappointment, I could hear the devastation.

And there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.

I wrote him a letter and I told him to stay focused on the ultimate goal.

“This is just a minor setback

, son. You will achieve your goal, just a bit later than you had planned. STAY STRONG!”

On Tuesday, there were three letters from my son in my mailbox. He’s in MRP (Medical Recovery Platoon) while he waits for his hand to heal and to be placed in his new platoon. The letters were filled with so much emotion. He said when he was training, he didn’t have much time to think, now, he has nothing but time to think.

“It’s messing with my head.” He wrote. “But please don’t worry, I’m fine.”

It tore me up inside to read about the moment he had to say goodbye to his platoon. “The guys were all coming up to me, hugging me, telling me to stay strong. Some of them even gave me things to remember the Kilo Co. by. It sucked.”

Oh God, my heart.

On the other hand, it warmed my heart to read that he’s able to keep perspective in regards to his setback. “There are guys who have been here for over a year. It makes me think how lucky I am that I’ll only be here for a little while. It could be worse.”

Oh, my sweet son.

I’ve written three letters back. These letters are filled with all of the love and encouraging words I could think of.

And now, I ask a favor of you, my dear friends on the internet.

Would you kindly take a minute to leave some words of wisdom and encouragement for my son? I will then copy those words and send them to him while he waits for his hand to heal and to then finally continue with his training.

I would be so grateful and I know my son will be too.

Thank you in advance.