Insidious ageing

A fact of life.

(from ehow.com)

I am getting older.

That seems to be stating the obvious, I know,

but I am noticing how I am changing-

you know, I am getting old.

I am not talking about the obvious physical stuff.

Not the fact that I find myself looking at those facial waxing products in the supermarkets with a feeling of impending doom.

Not the fact that my boobs are headed south as fast (or possibly faster) than my son is reaching towards the ceiling.

Not the fact that I must face it: that I am past my physical prime,

as my varicose veins, stretch marks, cellulite, creaky knees, decreasing bladder control

 and increasing number of wrinkles...er, laugh lines will attest.

I am talking about the state of mind.

I feel like a young mum.

I have 3 young kids.

I am ready to "get down" with my kids,

bust a move with them or whatever lingo will be in vogue when I have teenagers

that I need to (re)connect with.

But I am changing.

About 5 years ago, I switched off Saturday morning telly music clips

as I didn't want my kids asking just exactly what Jessica Simpson and that sponge were doing to that poor car.

Now I don't switch it on because, well, so much of that music is just so awful.

(from images.mirror.co.uk)

C'mon, hands up anyone who hasn't said to their kids

"When I was your age..." ?

Wizz Fizzes just don't taste the same.

Is that because the palate of a 42 year old is a bit more discerning than the palate of a 5 year old?

Or because sometime in the last 37 years they changed the formula?

(from http://www.twothousand.com.au/)

Either way, it makes me feel old.

It is insidious.

Just the way my hubby reaches for the telly remote but now checks out ABC and SBS

before the commercial stations.

Just the way I used to barrel through saying "me, me, me" when a video game was on offer but now I just sit back and watch while I crochet rather than take on my 7 year old son in battle.

Just the way that I lie awake in bed at night wondering what is "daggy" and what is "cool" these days.

Just the way that I find that my objects of housewife crushes are 40-something year old men rather than 20-something year old men.
Ashton Kutcher?
No thanks.
(Not that I dribble over Brad Pitt but did you know that he is 46?
Johnny Depp the same.
Now I feel old...)

(from susieqtn.com)

But I will take heart in that I do know who Justin Bieber is,
that I can and do still dance like a dag around the house in front of my kids to anything on the radio
and that I don't have to buy facial wax just yet.

"Growing old is inevitable.
Growing up is optional."
(Anon)