Today is Dan’s birthday.
Today he turns 40.
It seems so old. So amazingly old. But it’s not really. Well, not now that I’m going to hit that ages in a few years too.
When I was at boarding school, I guess I was around 16 or so, my grandparents and cousin took me out for the weekend. My cousin (Carol) was around 24. She seemed ancient. I remember thinking it was strange that she wasn’t married with children by then, since 24 was soooooooooooo old.
*pick myself up off floor*
For me 24 came and went and I still felt young.
30 came and went and I still felt young.
35 came and went and I felt a lot older, but that’s probably because I was pregnant and in the risky category of ‘old women having a baby’. I think that’s what did it actually. I was classified as an ‘old mother’. Eeek.
Now, to be perfectly honest, I think that this whole mothering bizzo would be a lot easier if I was 10 or even 5 years younger. I’d handle the lack of sleep a lot better, and may possibly have a little more patience (or perhaps not - I’ve never been very patient).
But on the other hand, I can’t imagine having had kids when I was younger. I just wasn’t ready. I needed to live, and to travel, and to experience, and to party, and to be selfish, and to just do whatever I wanted.
So I may be hitting 40 soon, and I may be one of those mum’s that waited to have their kids. But I’m glad. I’m an old mum and I’m proud.
Word. Or whatever it is that you youngsters say.
PS - I can’t wait to embarrass Kalani with my totally out-of-date dude-speak.