In one week I will be 50 years old, half a century.Old! It’s not surprising then that I’m reflecting on my life right now. There is this sense that the occasion should be marked in some way, and I don’t mean a party. I’m not having one of those. All that money for a few hours with a load of people I haven’t seen since my 40th, when I could put that money to better use, a holiday. I’m so scared of getting old I feel I need to reflect (and discuss) my coming of age to exorcise some demons and convince myself it ain’t over ‘til the fat lady sings.
My first thoughts were at the weekend whilst I was waiting for my fry up at the local greasy spoon, I was looking out of the window at a happy family passing by and it got me thinking about Christmas amongst other things. How you see more families out together in the run up to Christmas and on the day itself. Then that got me thinking about how I’ve never experienced that lovely, family, togetherness. Single parent, only child. And then it hit me, I will never experience it. That ship has sailed.
I had never intended to only have one child, but there was a distinct lack of willing sperm donors for the next 20 years. As the hot flushes move in, my egg production moves out. Oh God, I am that woman ‘of a certain age’. Feel free to read my little meandering ‘A Day In The Life Of Mr & Mrs Flush – Surviving The Men-O-Pause’. No more babies for me. If I am being totally honest, as much as I would have liked that 15 years ago, I really am too lazy and selfish to do it all over again. I also enjoy a drink or two and have enough of a problem sleeping without a screaming baby needing my attention when I have social media to keep me company.
So, no more babies. What else? I won’t be winning Miss World or fulfilling my lifelong dream to be a star tennis player anytime soon. I think that particular ship never raised its sails on either of those as I barely picked up a tennis racket or wanted to be the winner of a beauty contest. I always held out for wishes making things come true, 49 years of blowing out candles on your birthday cake and wishing gets you bugger all. I was clearly always lazy!
What I do enjoy and look forward to the most about ageing is the kind of peace of mind that has come with it for me. My body image, my honesty, my ability to happily embrace so many things about who I am. And to be be able to say that some of the things I have inherited from my parents didn’t mess me up, they have made me a better person. I feel sorry for the younger me, the one before becoming a mother. So many unhappy years worrying about my weight, my looks, living in the past, forgetting to live in the moment. So now is the time to tell myself that, stop reflecting on the past, live in the moment and look forward.
There is so much to look forward to, my work as a mother isn’t done until the day I die. I will enjoy watching my son grow into the wonderful man he is already becoming. And being a grandmother will be awesome. The love for my baby’s babies will know no bounds. I hope to be the kind of gran I’ve been as a mother, but naughtier 😉
I recently picked up a children’s’ book called ‘Two bad Grans’ by Geraldine Durrant & Sarah Horne.
But then something happened
Which no one had planned.
Those naughty old ladies were turned into grans!
And handed their babies, in pink and in blue,
Those naughty old ladies knew what they must do.
They looked at each other, and both understood,
That when you’re a granny you have to be GOOD.
Mrs M said “A Gran must behave like a LADY!”
“And set an example,” agreed Mrs O’ Grady.
And do you know what made them naughty before they were good?
They never washed dishes,
They never baked pies,
Their knitting was awful,
They often told lies.
They were rude and revolting,
Said “Piffle!” and “Poo!”
And refused to do housework,
Or mend and make-do.
What? I think the pages have been put in the wrong order. If anyone else has a copy, check yours and let me know. I can say a lot more than “Piffle & Poo!” I have no plans to start baking and going to knitting classes. What message is this book sending out? They were NEVER ‘bad grans’ they behaved like that before they were grans, once the kids had left home and they finally got the house back for themselves. Nah. I’m not going to be a sweet old lady, no way. I Shall Wear Purple.