Getting on a bit
Prior to writing this, a group of 3 girlfriends and I (all mid 30 somethings) met for a coffee in Paeroa . It all started very ladylike, ordering our cups of teas and lattes, engaging in mature conversation .
After a couple of hours, we sauntered up in an orderly way to visit our ‘30 something’ friend who works at the local chemist .
As they engaged in idle chatter, I wasted no time taking full advantage of the tester range of cosmetic and smellies that the chemist had on offer.
My friend was being attacked with a Thin Lizzie brush with the promise of flawless skin, I demolished the little tin of marshmallow hand cream, saturated my jacket with Beyonces new Eau De Toilette , and plastered my face with enough moisturiser that my friends could see themselves reflected through my skin.
.
After this flitty visit with our friend and fully taking advantage of the self grooming products, we exchanged awkward hugs, then walked out of that chemist fully transformed. We were back to being teenagers in the 90s. Our possie took up the whole sidewalk, our self esteem was boosted by free make up and we radiated pungent perfume. We were ready to take on the "World famous in New Zealand"
I turned 36 last week. :( (Sad face emoji, my peers who havent clicked on to what this is
My birthday was lovely day facilitated by my family. It was made up of bossing my family around, Instead of a 'get out of jail free card,’ our family excersises the ‘get out of being mean card,’ once a year.
In the morning, there was a lot of hushed movement in the kitchen after which the family emerged with cards and breakfast. My son wrote a charming, random, humerous and surprisingly accurate birthday card. The cover had a picture of me on a bed with a speech bubble saying. “Tui, Im pregnant’. Inside he wrote. I know what you want for your birthday. ME ….out of the house.
Since those words “Tui, Im pregnant” were uttered as a 26 year old, my identity as I knew it changed.
.
At 26, I was always asked for ID, I could make a retro dress look funky and never even thought of the rise or fall of petrol prices when passing the service station.
10 years later, and like a blink of an eye, my retro dresses make me look more like Mrs Doubtfire than a 1950s pin up, I never get asked for ID and one of my weekly highlights is seeing how much $$$ I have saved using my smart fuel card.
“Tui , I am pregnant” has meant that these 10 years of intense child rearing has changed me externally , but the internal me still feels in my 20s.
The number 36, however tells me that i am more adult than child.
Yes,
I have done some responsible adult things to prove I am adult like
We have a hefty mortgage, I recycle, I pick up my dogs dog poo even when no one is watching, I know longer swallow my gum and I listen to National Radio for pleasure, not torture.
But I am also childlike by
Having a get of being mean card for birthdays.
I prefer to drink a nice cold can of fizzy juice than a fancy glass of wine.
I believe that all you need is love
and Im afraid and intimidated by white middle aged men in power.
The gap is closing between the people I consider proper adults and me. I wonder what the world will look like with child like adults.
I look at my darling children, the ones who distracted me as my youth ran away. On one sense, they are teaching me to be more adult like but if I allow it, more child like too.
My kids force me out of my mind into the present moment, teach me to feel deeply, think widely, grow energetically, imagine wildly and play expressively.
#mum is a bum- This, by the way was written by my son as I left the computer unmanned.
So I am 36 and more adult than child now. I decide I want to preserve this child in me, to not get swallowed up completely by the adult Rosh ,