Sentiments on turning 40

TODAY IS THE LAST DAY OF MY THIRTIES

Tomorrow my body clock will be ticking its way to 40, yes FORTY, with full chimes belting out at around 6pm in the evening. If you listen carefully you may hear them, even if you are as far away as Japan.

40...eh!

It's arrived.

I knew it would.

But like Christmas every year, it's crept up behind me and taken me by surprise.

I wonder if this is when I graduate as a grown-up.

Once the champagne has been devoured, maybe it will be time to roll up my sleeves, don my hat of responsibility and venture into adulthood.

A destiny of practical gifts awaits. Socks here, shampoo there or gift vouchers to buy things you want as a strategy to avoid any unwanted gifts and waste.

I can see I've changed. Moi, goddess of consumer delights has somehow metamorphosed into a pared-down version of my old self, using big words inspired by Kafka whilst shedding material excesses of the 21st Century.

How the heck did that happen?

All I ever wanted was to slim my bin.

But something's happened to my make-up... and I don't just mean my favourite Dior lipstick?

During my twenties and thirties I was lavish, bought loads of clothes, accessories and indulged in lots of fine food. We had dinner parties, where I treated people like kings and queens, offering an abundance of culinary delights, which if not used would be thrown in the bin, without any further thought.

I surprised people with gifts that were often expensive. The more expensive the better right? It showed I cared and valued that special person.

When older family members asked for practical things that could slot into their everyday lives, I thought that was simply boring. "How unexciting" I'd say, desperately wanting to surprise them with a special gift that would bring extra sparkle.

I now wonder how many of my special gifts have ended up in charity shops, car boot sales or landfill.

It's amazing how people can change. It's even happened to my friends who are getting married this year, with very minimal wedding lists or suggesting donations to charity.

Since writing this blog, I have moved on in so many ways. Not completely away from my sense of adventure and fun, you understand, or indeed from my aspirations to improve my lot with the odd thing here and there...and trust me these days they are odd.

You see I am still hoping for some birthday gifts (but not swamped by them) and would dearly love a telescope.

I don't have one and probably don't need one, but I hold a yearning to see the galaxy, the constellations and the stars. I want to take a closer look at the moon and virtually feel the bumps on its surface.

But I don't want a new one. This time around a pre-loved one will do as I've lost all my old hang-ups over second-hand goods.

And it shows. One of my dear friends is giving me one of her old bags for my birthday. It's a beautiful bag, a Radley one in pristine condition. It's been sitting in the bottom of her wardrobe in the five years that I've known her. If she had pulled her finger out in the last few years, she would have got a fair whack by selling it on eBay.

Instead, I am getting it for my fortieth birthday and what a pleasure it will be.

So is it an age thing, or is it the indulgence of pouring out my thoughts through blogging?

Who knows?

But one thing's for certain, I've been inspired by many of my family, friends and strangers alike, and am glad to be surfing the sea of change.

So, as I spend the last day of my thirties enjoying myself with some close friends in London, I would like to raise a glass to mark the end of a handsome decade full of fun, frivolity and friendship.

But most importantly I would also like to raise half-a-glass to celebrate the beginning of my forties.

And by no means is the glass half-empty. Oh no! In good old Almost Mrs Average style, it is most definitely half-full!

So please join me in a toast to happy days and a future of more fun, measured frivolity and long-lasting friendships.

And with a slow sip of champagne, and a big deep breath...it's time to shout...

"Let the fortieth celebrations begin."

Hooray!

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(I would like to dedicate this post to both my mother Ellen and to my late mother-in-law Pauline, whose sense of "everything in moderation" I never fully appreciated until it was too late. We still miss you Pauline. But three years on I now get it and have every gratitude for the memories that live on.)
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Birthday Musings: Part 4. The Relief

Oh Geez. I know I said "no presents" to my friends, but losing the royal mail collection cards, requesting that I pick up my parcels from the sorting office, could be seen as ..... extreme!

Boogger!

These parcels were Little T's gifts that had been sent by our relatives from afar.

I was out all day on Tuesday when the postie tried to deliver them and couldn't make it to the sorting office after school, so I put the cards in a SAFE PLACE. The plan was to collect them yesterday, on the way into town, and get them home in time for Little T to open before we set off to the party.

But have you ever used a SAFE PLACE only to discover that it is actually the Bermuda Triangle?

I am sure I put them in my car! It felt like a good plan.....hmm...perhaps I put them in my bag, but which one? These days I've got more reusable bags than I can shake an unwrapped cucumber at? And one Bag For Life looks just like another.

After 20 minutes of hunting, I found a card...oh but it was the wrong one. This one requested that I pay extra postage costs to release a letter because the sender had underpaid. It was two months old and they only keep items for three weeks. Sigh.

I'm beginning to think I need a PA.... a Mother's Help...or even a Therapist.

At least the card had a telephone number, which I thought I could put to good use.

In desperation I picked up the phone.

Ring Ring, Ring Ring, Ring Ring.

Everything was crossed. No-one would forgive me if the presents were left abandoned...Little T or Mr A... and as for the senders...they'd be aghast.

I was feeling aghast myself...talk about things coming back to bite you on the bum!

"Hello, Bury St Edmunds Sorting Office" sang a friendly voice.

I explained my predicament. Would I be allowed to pick up Little T's birthday presents without the collection cards?

My face fell at the news that I needed the cards because they use an ID system. This of course is sensible, but surely there must be a way of coping with tricky customers like me.

I could just see it now...my reputation at stake amongst my in-laws. Being generally disorganised is one thing, but being ridiculously out-of-control is more memorable. Little T would get wind of the news one way or other and would never forgive me in the years to come.

"Oh dear" I replied, with a big sense of disappointment.

"I hoped that if I gave you my address, you might have them all in the same place".

"Well, tell me where you live and I'll see what I can do" said the very nice voice.

I gave her my address.

"Yes, Yes, that's good. I know exactly where to find them." she said assertively.

Phew. That was a relief. But she said it so knowingly that I did get a little paranoid that I may be getting a reputation. Have I forgotten to pick up lots of other things that have gone by the wayside I wonder?

Hmm. I really wonder.

Nevertheless, thank goodness I live in little old Bury St Edmunds and not a city suburb. I don't think I would be half as lucky. So with that news I tootled along with my driving licence as ID. One of the parcels was also my order from Lush.



I am so lucky...and so is Little T.

He came home from nursery and opened them up one by one...a snazzy car transporter, a floor puzzle, a few corgi cars and some money. Coupled with the racing driver's outfit that we got him, his birthday was as modest as we had hoped for.

And as for the party, that too was a success. The children enjoyed the painting activity at Coffee 'n' Kids and the only packaging that went in the party bags were the wrappers that came with a couple of chocolates that were on-the-house.

Some friends collected some money for us to take Little T to Bewilderwood, a magical treehouse adventure park in Norfolk and he had a few other presents, including a book, some arty stuff, a garden game, a fishing game and a packet of sweeties. There are also a couple of racing snails.

(Yes racing snails! Don't worry they're not live ones.)

But what the heck...yes there was some packaging and yes the contents may eventually join the casualty bay underneath his bed, but I think he did really well. And after all it's party-time, time to let my hair down. It's also time to reinforce better habits in Little T, to help him look after his toys.

Where I had once been overwhelmed by the expectation of masses of stuff, I am now overwhelmed by people's consideration and acceptance of my whims and the dreams that I have for the Almost Average Household.

So to all my friends out there...thank you for simply letting me be me!

It's now time to start working on Christmas..

....oooh don't you just love a challenge!

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Birthday Musings: Part 1 Neurosis sets in

It's that time of year again, when it should be an occasion to relax, wear a big smile and celebrate.

One year older, with another 52 weeks of memories to look back on...reminiscing about the wonderful times and they have been great.

So why am I feeling tense?

It's not as though it's my birthday.

No, mine's not due for another couple of weeks and this year it will be the big 4.0. Yes you read that correctly...FORTY YEARS OLD!

But strangely I'm feeling more neurotic about the birthday of the Junior Saboteur, who will be turning just a tenth of my age on Wednesday.

Yes, little T will be celebrating with four little candles on his cake.

The party's booked and he's invited his little friends to paint ceramic cars at a kids' cafe in town. It's the first time he's had a party "off-site" so to speak. I normally enjoy organising birthday parties at home, but this year he wanted to celebrate his special occasion elsewhere. And I'm not going to say no to cappuccinos on tap for two hours and people on hand to help.

So last week, we made the invitations and handed them out...to nine children...

...and yep, that's when the neurosis set in!

Well I suppose I really was laying my reputation on the line for all to ponder...

I've thought about it before, but it wasn't until last week did I feel brave enough to dare say it..

...brave enough to utter the five little words that on the surface seem so simple...

BUT...

which have the power to make you stand out from the crowd and stick out like a sore thumb in the modern age that is the 21st Century!

Yes five simple, well meant words...that go something like...

"Please don't worry about presents"

There, I've said it!

That felt so much easier than when the words stumbled out of my mouth whilst handing out the first three invitations.

Lovely as my friends are, when I uttered those words and witnessed the double-take I did feel somewhat like an alien who had landed from outer space or like a lunatic that had escaped the asylum.

I guess, it is pretty unheard of...a birthday party with no presents.

How could a mother be so cruel?

How could a four year old understand?

The truth is that I don't feel cruel at all. Little T has got loads of toys to play with, whether they're his own things, his brother's hand-me-downs or odd bits of pap that he's collected from fairs and comics in years gone by. His bedroom is already too small to cope with it all.

But could he really understand if friends didn't give him any presents? I suppose I've never made a big thing of taking him shopping to buy a present for a friend's birthday party. It's always been easier to go off and get it myself, so the gift thing has pretty much gone under his radar.

As ever, this birthday he's going to have lots of presents sent in the post by relatives that live far away, from aunts and uncles who see him infrequently but who want to still play a part in his life with gifts on special occasions. There'll also be a present from his brother, for them both to share, and being his loving parents we've got a little surprise for him too.

That already seems like a lot of things to keep a little boy amused. So I don't think he'll feel underwhelmed. In fact, I'd hope that he'd feel happier that his old mum's sanity was kept in order.

But is this sufficient justification to break away from the modern tradition of guests bearing gifts at parties?

It feels like tough love, trying to move away from consumerist patterns of owning lots of things that clutter up the house and eventually get worn out or broken and discarded off to landfill.

And then there's the perspective of the guests, or rather their parents, who want to teach their children to be kind and how to celebrate special occasions. After all, society almost expects gifts to be offered at events such as birthday parties whether it's out of kindness, appreciation or duty.

Take that option away from someone and it can look like a personal affront, with a big slap of ingratitude.

Which of course it isn't.

If you take a step back and think about it logically, it all seems sensible...well it does to me. It's 2008. We're right in the middle of a credit crunch, with soaring oil prices, higher food costs and more expensive mortgages. What better opportunity is there to break the cycle of copious amounts of stuff.

I'm already feeling like an unnatural radical by suggesting cutting back on presents for my children, but maybe it is time for parents to stand together and all agree to cut the crap, throwing caution to the wind along with the guilt.

Wow...my mother would hardly recognise me...blimey, am I really a recovered shopaholic? Is it my age I wonder?

All this and I haven't even mentioned the "Party Bag Crisis" yet! Ah well...that's another day!

In the meantime, I'll leave you with with some more STUFF AND NONSENSE (quite literally) soon to be published in my monthly column for our local magazine. I told you my reputation was on the line...perhaps I should be heading for my blue rinse now.

STUFF AND NONSENSE.

Whether you’re young or old,
love it or hate it,
have little or lots,
one thing’s for sure we’ve all got some.

STUFF!
And it’s everywhere!

All around the house and in every room.

Nowhere’s safe,
especially the garage.

There’s even stuff in the loo!

There’s stuff that has a home,
stuff that should be somewhere else
and stuff that belongs nowhere at all.

There’s his stuff, there’s mine.
There’s new stuff and old.

We flash the new stuff and hide the old
– in the loft, the tip and the charity shops.

TOO MUCH STUFF!
And it’s multiplying,

You have kids and it breeds.
2.4 children and a mountain of stuff.

There are even days to celebrate it.
“Happy birthday” and “Merry Christmas” we say,
as we hand over the stuff!

SO MUCH STUFF!
Oh the memories,
ah the decades gone by.

Some of mine is 40 years old.
I hope I’ve got another 40 to go.

BUT THAT’S MEANS MORE STUFF

Will I need a bigger house?
Just for the stuff?
Will a bigger house have cupboards?
Could I use the garage as a garage?
Could we just pile it all into a spare room?

I haven’t used half of it.
There are gifts,
freebies
and bargains.

There’s cheap stuff that’s broken
and old stuff that’s gone out of fashion.

OH DEAR IT’S ALL PILING ON TOP OF ME.
I feel like I’m being buried alive.
I can see my epitaph now...


“She was a happy soul, but the stuff and nonsense got her in the end”

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