I am slowly coming to the conclusion that I am old. I have lots of grey hair. I make an involuntary 'Uhh' noise when rising from a comfy chair if I’ve been there a while, and in the last 18 months I have acquired a part denture and the inability to focus on close up stuff when I’m tired. (For these last 2 I blame Wales) None of these things make me feel old though.
I feel old because of things like this:
A conversation on way to school other day, scene involves me, 3 kids, assorted baggage and 1x bike which they share on way to school. (Long story, involving class sizes, moving house mid-school year and an overall sovereign plan which I know exists but don’t understand yet).
J: Mum, can you slow down, I can’t carry all my stuff (1x book bag + 1x lunch box) and hold up these at the same time.
Me: What’s ‘these?’
J (incredulously): My trousers!
Demonstrates his need to hold ‘these’ up, and they promptly drop to his knees in the street, attracting stares from passing motorists.
Me: Where’s your belt?
J: I don’t have one.
Me: Why not?
J: I dunno. I forgot.
Me: But when you put those trousers on this morning, didn’t you realise they were falling down?
J: Well, yeah… But I was busy.
Me: Doing WHAT?
J: Y’know. Getting breakfast. And playing lego….
Me: Oh I see
And in that moment I DID see. He’s 7 years old. Life’s complicated enough remembering to feed oneself and get in some construction time before the school run (or run/cycle/run) without the added pressure of dressing securely.
I can no longer remember a time in my life when my main source of concern was eating as fast as I could so I could get in more play time.
Last week I actually forfeited a whole night of sleep amending a 280 page book in order to meet a print deadline. At 4am I decided NOT to go to bed before the school run, or I’d never get up for it. So I constructed an interplanetary lego docking station for the many MANY lego spaceships which are in various stages of completion by one of the kids. Or I would have done if I were not old.
Instead I tumble dried a load of washing and folded and ironed the backlog of dry stuff from the weekend. Then I put it all away (quietly). Then I made a massive pot of custard for breakfast. A little unorthodox I know, but we love it and we had loads of milk that morning.
And this is why I am getting old.