Thirty-seven. Sounds old, doesn’t it? My age didn’t particularly bother me previously. My age was just numbers and as my closest friends will know too well, I continually feel like I’m fifteen and frequently act like it.
Yet there’s something about the number seven. Suddenly, seven, when coupled with the word thirty, screams OLD!!! MIDDLE AGED WOMAN! NAN HANDS!!
A bit of research tells us that the number seven evokes some primal feeling. In scripture, the number seven signifies the completion of God’s initial creative act (that small matter of creating the world) and a bit of a rest. It also signifies (I’m liking this) the beginning of all history.
Further rapid google research turns up similar themes: creation, the cycle of life, endings and new beginnings. Is this why I’m feeling a little on edge about turning thirty-seven?
I had a shock when I looked at photographs of myself at my daughter’s Thanksgiving service recently. I looked ok on the photos (I’m VERY critical of myself in photographs), but I actually looked my ‘part’. A thirty-seven year old at her daughter’s Thanksgiving service. Argh!! Surely I’m the fifteen year-old who just does stupid things with her similar-minded friends just because she can (there were several potential examples here, but I dare not share them).
I had the most good fortune, on the
eve before my birthday, to have an impromptu babysitting offer, and had a lovely evening out with my partner seeing Les Malheureux perform their ‘flash’ or short fiction. Now, I talk a lot in this blog about ‘mental space’, specifically lack of it being a mother of two children under three. Listening to a reading of fiction does wonders for the mental space issue, I have to say. Suddenly, as fellow listeners were asking questions about inspiration, rhythm and visualisation, I had a sense that turning thirty-seven wasn’t so bad after all. In fact it was a pivotal point, maybe even the exciting beginning of a new life cycle. Just a sense of new beginnings, a new journey with my young family.
- I’m old enough to experiment with more interesting face creams.
- I have a justifiable excuse for dancing like a middle-aged Mum, as I actually am one.
- Linking to the above point, I look forward to embarrassing my children with such dancing and general ‘acting younger than my age behaviour’.
- I can be grumpier and get away with it (though my partner is an actual professional at this. Just ask the binmen.)
- I can watch One Born Every Minute with a smug grin on my face, in the knowledge that I’ve already had my two children.
- I can spend less time getting ready in the morning, as I care less.
Happy birthday me!
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