I had a great birthday email from my mother. Short but pithy (unlike many of her communications so thank heaven for small mercies, I suppose). Only five lines long in total, it centred on the following:
I can’t believe that we have a child who is middle aged! This means a new era begins in looking after your health as you approach your next stage. At the same time you will be watching your children approaching adult hood.
I didn’t phone her straight away. She’s easily upset if you say the wrong thing - which is pretty astonishing given her own crashing tactlessness. And I thought I might very easily say the wrong thing. I was smarting badly from the dreaded “middle aged”, quite apart from the general sentiment.
She rang me, we chit-chatted a little. I tried, oh so hard, not to mention it. But in the end I decided to say that I thought these days we didn’t really think of ourselves as “middle-aged” at 44 (or indeed any age, I suspect) and that according to the latest socio-demographic classifications, I am what they call an adultescent. It was a little bit lost on her.
“Yes, I was thinking about that”, she rambled. “Your eldest daughter is just about to start her periods, and you’re about to have your menopause”.
I beg your pardon?!
Is it possible that I am suddenly much older than I think? Or that I’m completely kidding myself? Or that she’s lost track of time and jumped ahead a decade? Hold on, I’m trying to think of a rational explanation here, and it’s Mum. There isn’t one. Daughter No 1 put it quite well, in her teen-speak. “Granny is like, totally random”.
It’s Mum’s birthday tomorrow. I’ve forgotten to buy her a card (not too old to heark back to my swot-like reading in the original German of Zur Psychopathologie des Alltagslebens and divine the possible significance of this, in the circumstances.....)
So tempting to drop her an email saying “I can’t believe my mum is a little old lady”. I know this wouldn’t fit with her jiving, and yoga, and bodypump and international travel but I may not be able to resist......
I can’t believe that we have a child who is middle aged! This means a new era begins in looking after your health as you approach your next stage. At the same time you will be watching your children approaching adult hood.
I didn’t phone her straight away. She’s easily upset if you say the wrong thing - which is pretty astonishing given her own crashing tactlessness. And I thought I might very easily say the wrong thing. I was smarting badly from the dreaded “middle aged”, quite apart from the general sentiment.
She rang me, we chit-chatted a little. I tried, oh so hard, not to mention it. But in the end I decided to say that I thought these days we didn’t really think of ourselves as “middle-aged” at 44 (or indeed any age, I suspect) and that according to the latest socio-demographic classifications, I am what they call an adultescent. It was a little bit lost on her.
“Yes, I was thinking about that”, she rambled. “Your eldest daughter is just about to start her periods, and you’re about to have your menopause”.
I beg your pardon?!
Is it possible that I am suddenly much older than I think? Or that I’m completely kidding myself? Or that she’s lost track of time and jumped ahead a decade? Hold on, I’m trying to think of a rational explanation here, and it’s Mum. There isn’t one. Daughter No 1 put it quite well, in her teen-speak. “Granny is like, totally random”.
It’s Mum’s birthday tomorrow. I’ve forgotten to buy her a card (not too old to heark back to my swot-like reading in the original German of Zur Psychopathologie des Alltagslebens and divine the possible significance of this, in the circumstances.....)
So tempting to drop her an email saying “I can’t believe my mum is a little old lady”. I know this wouldn’t fit with her jiving, and yoga, and bodypump and international travel but I may not be able to resist......
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