...and turn I will!
At about this time last year I was sitting in my chair, confidently awaiting my 40th birthday. I really wasn't that bothered about the new decade careering my way as I had diligently prepared for the inevitable onslaught. The ridicule that I would have to endure from the under 40's was merely evidence of their insecurities and would be met with fire and brimstone. Comments about being over the hill and middle aged would be deflected by my meticulous positive mental conditioning that was my shield. I could and did survive the day, aided by sympathetically reassuring comments from more senior well wishers who, in some cases, remembered their 40th birthday in black and white. No. I was pretty damned cool about the whole thing.
For the younger set (and to those of you who are under 25, please take the concession seats here and worry about your 30th), well their time would come, and as for the older people, well they knew what was to come and I can only assume that they knew the deal - there's a catch it seems.
You see tomorrow I turn 41 and that one is the one, or the 1! That one/1, such a small and insignificant number is one of a kind, one heck of a 1! One day, one year, one person, one birthday! ONE!
A few months ago I was comparing notes with a friend of mine who turned the magic four O and he too was pretty relaxed about the whole affair. Yes there was a party, there was cake and the usual humorous cards, but that's no different to any other birthday is it. We discussed how he was feeling and agreed that the whole 40 thing was just a myth. All that mirth and jest was simply bravado, we were and are still the same people.
Our controlled, randomized study sample of two reported that essentially the passing of a new decade was uneventful and something of an anticlimax. Our lives continued and we could still relate to the 30 somethings we call friends, as it was only weeks ago that we were still able to wear hoodies and call people dude!
Now hoodies, baggy jeans and oversized K-Swiss trainers (am I still aloud to call them trainers?) only show up on receipts for my kids and within the passing of 12 months I find myself irresistibly drawn to the woolen jackets and comfortable sweaters at the riding shop where one of my darlings takes me to practice her negotiating skills. She's getting pretty good but there will never be a pony!
To date I have resisted procuring a new wardrobe, the jackets, the rust colored corduroy trousers, the chequered shirts and the plethora of accessories that go with these delights, but I am starting to be seduced by the dark side, the dark green side. Oh why does she take me there?
Cake! They have a cafe. She takes me there for cake. She's better than I thought....!
So to look back at the past 12 months. I have an amazing wife whom I love dearly and has supported me in many an insane quest. My wonderful kids teach me new things every hour of every day and a few things at night, like how to SMS at midnight without detection - although I obviously eventually caught on and don't need this skill. My life is as rich and fulfilling as I could have ever dreamed of.
I have a small but loyal group of friends who I care for dearly and an equally small but equally loyal group of 'not' friends who I also care for dearly, as they help me appreciate my true friends all the more.
From diapers to hormones, nappy rash to acne and new, amazing experiences yet to come, what a wonderful way to turn 41!
Now, all I have to do is finish the dishes, tidy up the toys and I can just squeeze in a quick episode of Morse before bed.
Happy? Happy!
