I'm 31 today. It's an age that would have sounded horrifically ancient to me in my youth but which now I can argue is still pretty damn young. I'm not old just yet. Is there ever an age where you accept that you have crossed over to the wrong side of young? I can't imagine reaching it. In many ways, I felt old as soon as Ebony was born. I was 25 years old but I felt ooold. My friends were still young; they were focusing on their careers and going on holiday and posting drunken photos to Facebook and I was breastfeeding and changing nappies and reading blogs about gentle parenting. Life changed. Just like that.
Now my friends are catching up with me. Lots of them have settled down, some have had babies and sometimes we sit together and talk about how hard it is to be a parent. Being a parent isn't aging me anymore, but my age is. I've finally reached that point where I have to be careful of my references because younger people might not know who Harold and Madge from Neighbours are (imagine if you didn't know who Harold and Madge were?!). My sister told me yesterday that people born in 1999 are now legally old enough to drink, that blew my mind because, er, wasn't 1999 like five minutes ago? Is my love of 90s pop now really that outdated?
I feel like 30 passed me by. I was pregnant and in the middle of all the decorating and my 30th birthday just kind of happened. There was a party, I was sober, it was as terrible as you would expect a sober birthday party to be. I wanted to think deep thoughts about growing older and reflect on the passing of my twenties but I was so damn pregnant and tired. It's hard to reflect on anything when you can't make it off the sofa without getting heartburn.
31. It's the age my mum was when she had me. It doesn't sound that old anymore. Growing older is just making me realise that nobody has a clue what they're doing. When you're young, you assume that everyone older than you has it together. You believe your parents know what they're doing. You think that one day it will just click and you'll know what you're doing, too. I'm starting to realise that that's not the case. Or not for me, anyway. I still don't have a clue what I'm doing. We're late for school most days (not late book late, but late nonetheless), I pretty much always overspend by the end of the month (sometimes by the middle) and I still find it really stressful dressing for formal occasions.
I forget about homework, I do my work scarily close to the deadline and sometimes things just slip my mind. I can never find matching socks (unless they're Laurie's) in a morning, I stay up too late on school nights and the cupboard under the stairs is so full of crap that I have given up going in there. I am not adulting with finesse. I have no clue what I'm doing. Please tell me I'm not the only one.
