I seem to write a lot of age related posts. I’ve written about turning 38 and, you guessed it, turning 39. Previously, I pondered on what it’s like to turn 5, a 4 year old’s princess party and a good few more number, age and birthday related pieces.
I was just pondering if I’ve become obsessed, nay panicky, with birthdays, age and time. Is it to do with approaching 40 (have I mentioned that, recently)? Am I desperately making a grab for the time with my little ones, that seems to be slipping through my fingers?
It probably is a bit of both. It’s quite comic how alarmed I am at being nearly 40, with phrases like “how the f*ck did that happen?!” and “well, I guess I could live my life again and still only be 80, yes?” running through my mind a lot.
And it’s bloody scary how you can look at your child one day and think “sh*t! look at how big she is!…how the f*ck did that happen?!” or “she can actually read!!! When the f*ck did that happen?!” It’s as though life carries on and suddenly my brain catches up, has a moment or two of panic, tries to settle into a ‘new normal’, fails abismally and thinks “I’ll blog about it instead. That’ll make it all better”.
The panicky feelings started in earnest one sunny day back in April. My eldest was starting her final term in preschool and I’d put her in for an extra full day (rather than the usual half days), meaning I had a whole day to myself with my then 2 1/2 year old. And it was very nice- we went to Gusto, she made her own pizza. I may have even sneakily treated myself to a half a lager (at 1pm, I hear you cry? That’s well before the commonly accepted ‘4:30pm Mum’s-had-it watershed’).
But it felt weird! I’m used to changes in life – I’ve lived in many different places, houses, had different jobs, but boy when you have a family change happens fast! It’s no wonder it takes my brain a while to catch up.
So having a good old ‘writing it down’ session is a way of making sense of what’s going on, as though the act of doing it solidifies it, puts a stamp on it and says “yes, that really happened.”
This weekend my youngest turned 3 – 3 (how the f*ck did that happen?!)! As I watched her enjoy – and really engage for the first time – her birthday and soft play party, the HTFDTH mantra was raging round and round my head. But there was joyfulness accompanying it – she’s a happy 3 year old after all, and her sister is a happy 5 year old.
So bring it on, old mother time, as I’ve found a reasonable coping mechanism (But I apologise in advance for the many bletherings I’m bound to post here as the fright that is the big 4-0 approaches!)