Wednesday, 19 March 2008

No counting!

Me.(Actually, it isn't. But now when you meet me you can say, wow, you look MUCH better in person, which'll be nice for me.)

When I had my first daughter, I was young. All my friends were in their thirties, just starting out on the same path to motherhood, while I was just a wee slip of a thing. I have aged, yes, but so did my friends, and I was still the youngest. Even as I left my twenties behind, my friends were entering their forties, so all was well in the world.

Until now anyway. Suddenly I'm starting over, and those new friends I meet who are on their first or second path to motherhood are all so much younger. And boy do they make me feel it. I may as well point out now - when I was born, microwaves, dishwashers, videos - even betamax - were well in the future. Personal computers were an unknown concept. I walked ten miles to school every day in the snow with no shoes... oh hang on, no. That was me da'.

I remember Rentaghost, and Tiswas, and Bod. Actually, I don't remember Tiswas, we weren't allowed to watch it, it was a bit too racy. Swap Shop for us, or at least on Saturdays. Every other day it was that really boring programme with the girl and the weird doll thing and the chalkboard - The Testcard it was called. But we watched, it, oh yes we did! One day she would blink and we would see it... Of course back then there were only the three channels - steady there, I know that's a shock - so the times The Testcard were on were a bit of a novelty.

With age comes a certain... je ne sais quoi. Actually, I really don't know. It's called memory loss. I can't actually remember what my point was going to be when I started this entry. I'm hoping if I waffle long enough it'll come to me. This is why I renamed those children that live in my house, I couldn't hope to remember their names. Heck, I don't remember shutting the front door half the time. I grab The babe to do the school run, usually late, fly out the door, strap her in the car, race off, get to the end of the street and do a hand-brake turn to screech back to see if I shut the door. NOT joking.

I'm sick of going grey, of having wrinkles and being fat. But the idea of hair dye and dieting and face cream or botox is just too much effort so I shall have to continue to age badly. With age at least comes grace and wisdom, so I may be haggard but you can all just shurrup and listen to me anyway. And my friends, you may think you are young and strong and invincible.. but that means you have to carry my bags for me, so I win. Yay me!

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