I turned 30 just over a week ago. I had a lovely quiet day at work, followed by a quiet night at home with my wonderful husband having had TWO parties preceding that: one with my friends and one with my family. I’m an incredibly lucky girl. 30’s no big deal. It’s just another year, just a different number. People still think I’m twenty half of the time, which I’m sure helps me not feel like I’m any older I still get ID’ed when going to bars I haven’t been to before. I’m so thankful to whoever I got these youthful genetics from. They’re bloody awesome!
Despite 30 just being a number (which it is) and me still appearing youthful (which I do), there are little things that remind me that I’m getting older. I’ve noticed that the older you get, the more time seems to speed up. It’s probably something to do with developing routines (which is useful), so the weeks just fly by. I'm sure yesterday was Friday, but now it's Wednesday. It's somewhat disconcerting. I was just planning my Civil Union. I just got home from my honeymoon. But actually, it’s now not even four months off Christmas. Before I know it it’ll be our first ‘Union’ anniversary. Before I know it I’ll be 40.
The funny thing about time is that it never does what you want. When you’re a kid you are just waiting to get older, and it seems to take forever. Now I just wish time could slow down. There aren’t enough hours in the day to get things done. Even worse, especially when you’re a woman, you’re kind of on a clock.
If you’ve ever conceived of procreating, you’ve generally set some goals around it. When I was in my early 20’s, the cut off date for babies was 25. Because I was never the cluckiest girl in the world, I wasn’t upset when I turned 25 and had no babies. I was so certain about not getting sprogged up that a few years ago I became an egg donor. Just because I didn’t want any, didn’t mean I didn’t want anyone else to have any. If you want to be an egg donor and don’t already have kids, they’ll only let you do it if you’re never planning on having any. I wasn’t. Now I’m 30 and have a wonderful husband and some financial stability, I’ve been reconsidering the baby cut off date. I think Murray and I would be great parents. I also think we need to own a home first. So now the baby cut off date is getting pushed back. It’s hard, I don’t want to be an older parent, but if I’m going to be a parent at all, that’s the only option I have.
I know that more and more people are having their first kids in their 30’s (although according to recent stats, that’s actually changing). But there are other things in the back of my mind. When my mum was about my age, she had a hysterectomy. I had an ectopic pregnancy when I was 20, and although I’ve had scans and everything’s fine in my tubular zone (you get a million scans when you decide to be an egg donor), it’s always in the back of my head. I also have a retroverted uterus. Won't affect anything, completely useless information really, but retroverted is a cool word.
The other thing in the back of my head is the voice of friends and collegues saying ‘Don’t do it when you’re 37! It’s bloody hard.’ And ‘It was so much easier when I was in my 20’s’. And then the other thing in the back of my head is that older parents are kind of lame. I had young parents, and they weren’t perfect by any means, but they were cool. They listened to Pink Floyd, and Led Zepplin, whereas my friends' older parents listened to Elvis, Cliff Richard, classic hits and opera. My parents played backyard cricket with us. I don’t know how easy it is to do that when you’ve had kids in your late 30’s and have RSI and back problems. I don’t want to be a decrepit parent and I don’t want to be out of touch with my kids.
And I can see that happening, because I’m already out of touch with kids these days. Even though we’re the generation raised on computers, technology moves so fast, and I care so little about it, that I have no idea what’s going on half the time. What’s worse is that I don’t care. I don’t care about ‘apps’. I don’t even have a phone that can take pictures, or has internet, or even pixt capability. I only learnt to use email at 18 because I had to use it for work. The only driver behind my having any technological skills at all has been requiring them for my jobs. I’m really a total luddite. I still find it odd that I can type fast, run a website (through a system mind you) and know how to program basic HTML. I don’t even really understand how computers work at all, except they’re apparently a bit like a complex abacus that somehow files information.
And even the kids that don’t like computers like other things I don’t understand. I don’t understand spending large amounts of money on toys when kids are quite capable of amusing themselves. I grew up on a farm, with no money but lots of imagination, and can already hear myself doing the whole ‘When I was your age… (insert seemingly ridiculous comment here)’ thing. Who wants a parent like that? And I don’t understand things like Hannah Montana, or Justin Beiber or LMFAO, or modern ‘dance’ music. What’s up with all that stuff? Does that mean I won’t be a ‘cool’ parent like my parents were?
Murray took me to see Dylan Moran for my 30th birthday present. It was wonderful. The only problem was the drunk 50+ year olds sitting next to Murray who rudely talked through the entire first half, then, on returning from half time spilt half a drink down the back of a chair (and person) in front of us. It was truly appalling. What was equally appalling was me bitching about it like a grumpy old person. Moments like that are moments when you realise you are getting old. Probably because you aren't the drunk annoying person.
I do actually quite enjoy the whole process of getting older. I like ranting about stuff almost no-one cares about. I like remembering the 90’s. I like bitching about politics. I like being a technophobe. I like knowing my cholesterol isn't too high. And Dylan Moran's an older parent. And he's cool. I know for at least a little while, I was pretty cool too –I was once in ‘a band’ and I did an art degree – you can’t argue with that evidence of cool. Dylan Moran's kids probably don't think he's cool. They probably think he's a grumpy old man. If we have kids, they probably won’t think I’m cool either, but I’ll know I was cool, and, hopefully, my friends will still think I'm cool and I guess that's what matters. In all honesty I’ll probably always think I’m cool. That’s probably even lamer than trying to be cool.
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