For the last few years, Boatman has taken great pleasure in informing me that I am almost thirty. With only 11 sleeps till my 29th birthday, it seems to have reached fever pitch the last few days.
It never bothered me too much; it was too far away to be considered worrisome, and there is no way I look like I’m nearly thirty, and I certainly don’t act like it. It’s easy to live in a little world of self denial where I am in my mid twenties forever.
A couple of things have happened of late though, that have me dreading the upcoming birthday.
First, there was Eat Play Bonds status update on her Facebook page. On the eve of her 30th she bid farewell to the 20’s. That was slightly disturbing. The thought of being thirty is ok, only if I can still be 20 something. I know it’s impossible, but it sounds perfectly plausible in my head ok.
The second event was my youngest sisters 40th last week. Obviously there is a fairly substantial gap between me and my siblings, and I’ve always felt that makes me extra young. Her turning 40 however, means it is inevitable for me as well. (Sorry Elsa; I’m not saying that you’re old.)
The third event occurred yesterday.
I was doing some pre-Digital Parents shopping (more on that later) when I got into a conversation with one of the sales ladies about having kids. I’m assuming she saw the picture of Taylah in my wallet, cause she asked me if I had a daughter. ‘I’ve got three,’ I replied, waiting to hear the ‘wow you’re young!’
It never came.
(To be fair, she told me about some girl she went to schools in who got married at 17 and her first baby at 18 so the whole young mum thing is not a crazy idea to her. That’s my justification anyway, and I’m sticking with it!)
Instead she proceeded to tell me how clucky she was, and how she thinks it’s good to have kids young like her mum did, and I quote, ‘because when you’re young you’re more like, real and honest with them and stuff, but when you’re old like 30, you’re all responsible.’
I wasn’t sure what offended me more; the idea that ‘old’ mums can’t be real and honest, or that I’m getting pretty close to the point where I should invest in some kind of funeral fund or whatever, cause I could quite possibly croak at any moment!
I mean, you expect your kids to think you’re old; that kind of comes with the territory. But this chick was almost 24! That’s only 5 years difference.
It makes me wonder what happens when she hears road fatality statistics. The news says, ‘a 28 year old woman has passed away in hospital after driving her car into a tree,’ and I ‘think, that’s sad. She was my age. So young.’
Sales lady is no doubt thinking ’28 is a pretty good innings; I’m sure she had a great life.’
It’s also got me wondering, do I look old? Do I act old?
Is fun and frivolity a thing of the past?
Is it all just responsible hair cuts and homy pedy shoes from here on out?
Do I really need to look at Botox seriously?
And does age make you responsible? Or do kids? Cause I’ll admit I’m a lot more reserved than I was pre-babies, but it’s not cause I feel old. It’s cause one, I have little people I need to look after, and two, because I’m so exhausted from chasing them around now.
Maybe I am old. Maybe I’ll turn 29 and my hair will fall out, and my waist will spread, and I’ll whinge about the ‘young people these days.’
Or maybe I’ll dye go sky dive instead. (Though probably not.)
Have you ever worn Homy Pedy shoes?