Age is just a number

A photo just for attention of my child of the pandemic helping herself to hand sanitiser 
 

Age is just a number

This coming weekend, another year is done and my age increases yet again.  Even with a mask on, I often don’t get ID’d any more when I buy alcohol, and when I smile there are the beginnings of lines around my mouth and the corners of my eyes.  When I brush my hair, I notice more and more grey appearing as time goes by.

I don’t feel old, although that said, what does old feel like?  Sometimes I creak a little when I get up in the morning, or when I’ve done some unexpected exercise.  I don’t think I feel any different than I did as a teenager.  It’s strange how we change - and then maybe we stop changing.  Our bodies grow older, and perhaps we grow more tired, or maybe that’s just the addition of children and less sleep… but I am still me.  Do others change their opinions of me?  

I don’t feel like an adult, most of the time.  In a social setting I often feel like a fish out of water, trying to keep up with the conversation and understand the nuances.  One on one, I do okay, but when there are many people in a group I panic and lose track of the conversation.  Maybe that is something to do with progressive hearing loss - I don’t technically have hearing loss, but I struggle to hear an individual speak when there is a lot of background noise or cross conversation.  

I have decided to throw myself a birthday party.  I have a swimming pool for the very first time, so we are going to enjoy bubbly (strictly not champagne because I’m a cheapskate), doughnuts and cake, and I believe David is planning a barbecue to add a little savoury to the overwhelming sweetness.  I have only invited four people, I hope they come, but when trying to think of who to invite, I couldn’t actually think of anyone else here who is truly my friend.

I have friends overseas who I would invite, I have a friend or two in Melbourne who can’t get up here because of lockdown and border closures, but they’re not close friends.  They’re not people I would talk to all of the time.  In fact, of the four I have invited, only two would be in that category.  The others, in a way, were “numbers” but I couldn’t think of more to add.  I am not the kind of person who needs “quantity”, but prefers “quality”.  And if nobody ends up coming, I get to eat all of the cake and doughnuts and that has to be a good thing!

All this really says very little, and instead is just the meandering of my mind.  Maybe that also comes with age!  

I am not an old mother, nor a young mother, but in the more recent societal normal of career THEN kids.  I don’t feel old amongst my mum friends although I am the oldest of one of the groups.  Is this because I get down and dirty with my kid?  I never want to be the parent who sits on the sidelines watching while E plays, or swims, or adventures.  I want to be doing it all with her, participating in her childhood, her life.  So fingers crossed, I won’t Get Old or Grow Up too quickly.