REady or not......

In a few hours I will be 43...FORTY THREE! What in the world? How did that happen? I'm not sure I'm ready.

If I blink it seems like yesterday I passed my 11 plus and was given a place in grammar school and got a brown BSA bicycle as reward ( Lawks that thing was so HEAVY! Sad that by then all my friends had decided they were too old for bikes and so there was no one to peddle the light fantastic with, except my dad who rode with me all the way to Bodmin from Liskeard one sunday, what a lovely dad he is!)

I was in love for the first time just weeks ago wasn't I? Lovely Gary who held my heart for so long...ridiculously long actually- I was 36 before I knew I could get on with life and let this heart beat without drumming his name.

Moments ago I married my first husband with all kinds of expectations and dreams, the first of which was slaughtered on our wedding night when I experienced the physical ' joys' of intimacy for the first time and wondered what in heaven's name all the fuss was about, certainly not stuff Mills and Boon have made a fortune out of and definately a disappointing prize for my virginity. I wonder why a good sneeze is never written about, my experiences in my first marriage were never quite as satisfying as a good sneeze and not even as enjoyable as an ear cleaning session with a Q-tip. Hoorah for second marriages then.

Nearly 20 years since my first baby was born and although I remember it so well, his birth seems forever ago simply because I cannot remember when he wasn't in my life and imagine what the purpose of life before Dan was in it was...except to prepare to be a mother and wait til he arrived.

I am suprisingly thrilled to have discovered during a pre- birthday ponder today that I have achieved so much that I longed to achieve in my heady days of youth when I planned my life with such innocent longing. Needless to say so much has happened that wasn't dreamed of or even thought of or even dreaded but lookie here..I'm here and I'm relatively well, I laugh almost every day ( oh alright, every day ) and can pretty much hold my head up and look myself in the mirror ( if I squint and look sideways)
I have so many experiences that have humbled me beyond belief, caring for sick babies and children is by far the greatest honour, to be responsible for these tiny people who are so sick and so disabled that many say they have no purpose, oh they have such huge reason for being it is terrifying to see how often that is missed. When you hold a baby who is blind, deaf, has fits every waking moment and yet see that same baby grin from ear to ear you have to see that God is with her every second of her life and that she has such a glorious place in heaven you are so blessed to have been a part of her life, if only for a few moments. When you hear that she has died having only been on this earth just over a year and have no doubt that she is now the stongest most beloved spirit amongst spirits and know that she remembers you loved her, that you told ignorant people that she had a purpose , you can't help but know just how tiny your part in all this world is.

There are, naturally, many things that I am not proud of and those have a place in my heart and my mind, what's the point in going through things we regret if we don't remember them and the lessons we learned through them?

Many, many funny moments...like being 14 and having my beloved Parka coat ( all the rage the year before, of course when I got mine after months of pleading and begging, everyone else had decided that anoraks were the' in thing', or denim jackets or something else just not bloody parkas with fox fur around the hood) Fox fur, yes-sir-ee, the real thing I thought, or did I think? I don't believe I gave it a moment's thought until I was tramping the moors one saturday....so close to nature, breathing good air and hearing the sounds of the countryside, birds and wind and the faint sound of the hunt horn being blown........doo-doo DOOOOO. doo doo DOOOOOO. I remember vaguely thinking about the sound and feeling sorrow for the fox that was sure to be running and trying to hide out there on Bodmin moor..... so open, not too many places to hide if you're being chased by the hounds and horses.....OH MY GOOD GRIEF! I've got FOX FUR ON MY PARKA!! Where did dad park the car? Where the hell am I ? Which way? What ? Did I hear those bloody dogs? RUN! QUICK YOU STUPID FOX WEARING IDIOT RUN!
Anyone know why when you are terrified you really need to pee and if you need to pee it's really hard to run but if you don't run you're going to be torn apart by beagles or whatever they use for hunting and they won't care that the fur on my parka is dead will they? they'll smell MY fear and just go for it.....I think I have never run so far or so fast in my entire life before or since , I made it back to the car a full hour before the rest of my family who say they saw me take off like a hunted animal without clue that I thought I actually WAS a hunted animal. I am, to this day, the object of humiliation because of that day. Of course, my fur turned out to be synthetic nothing fur but how was I to know?
Forty three......I sort of mind that number but what's to be done? I am ready to be 63 and a lovely cuddly nana, someone who wears a flowery apron and always has good stuff at her house. I'm just not really ready to be 43 and not quite anything particular, young to have old kids, old to have young kids . Old to have trendy clothes but too young for lovely comfy stretchy clothes that people agree are just right for my age. ( there IS a clothing law you know, I despaired of it in my 20's and wondered how people suddenly seemed so careless about what they wore but honest to goodness it's creeping up on me, I walk past shoe shops and hear myself saying things like " oooh they look so COMFY!" I absolutely understand the draw of an elasticated waist, I am grateful on a daily basis that the love of polyester has so far passed me by but I have had a thought or two about a shopping bag with wheels.....I know, I know, I'm resisting because at a stretch Eli will still go in a pushchair but the day is NOT so far away when I shall crave a sholley and a stretchy foldable shopping bag. Howard already has a coin pouch but he IS 3 years older than me so I'll let him have that one.)
So, ready or not, 43 here I come.