Fifty

I got a vacuum cleaner for my fiftieth birthday. But it’s okay.

As the saying goes… this is what the top of the hill looks like. Well, at least I can stop pedalling and cruise down the rest of the way.

Okay, I kid. I make a little funny joke. But some people really do freak the hell out over turning forty, let alone fifty.

But, to quote the immortal Jean Hagen as Lina Lamont: I AIN’T PEOPLE!

Fifty, to me… is much like forty-nine was, actually. I don’t feel fifty, in my head.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I am really conscious that my time on this earth is now finite. I mean, this year, 2016, has been an asshole, killing off people who are not that much older and way fitter and more valuable to this planet than me.

I was aware of it before, obviously, but now it feels closer.

But truthfully, that concern is not for me. It’s for my kid. My constant worry these days, in the back of my head and in my heart, is who will take care of my child when I am gone.

It’s not like it will happen immediately, of course. But with a special needs kid, who may or may not struggle to make her way in the world, I now feel like I have a finite amount of time to ensure she is going to be well taken care of, and financially secure, and safe, when I am no longer here to do so.

It scares the hell out of me. It keeps me up at night, and in tears when I consider it during the day. But that’s not BECAUSE I am fifty. Fifty is just a reminder that time is going to run out, sooner than before, to make sure I have her taken care of.

But other than that… I don’t FEEL like I thought fifty would feel, way back when I was 9 and 17 and 26 and even mid-thirties.

My body feels it, though. Fifty hurts a lot, but so did forty-nine. But, as I tweeted to John Bishop, who is one day older than I am, we still look pretty fucking awesome for fifty. For forty, even.

(He owes that to being fit and healthy. Whereas I owe it to hair dye. Whatever.)

It’s been an excellent birthday, so far. I got up this morning to my daughter cheerfully singing me the birthday song, which is all I ever need in life on my birthday, if I am honest.

I came downstairs and BDH put on the above song, which is a fine tradition in my house.

Bubby hated that song. When Bubby was just a small cat, and her birthday rolled around, we’d put a pointy birthday hat on her and play the song and sing. She’d sit there, getting increasingly angrier as the hat slowly slid down the side of her face and she felt confident enough that she could escape it.

I loved that. She never forgave me and ran and hid whenever she heard the song in her later years.

BDH had also arranged for several birthday cards — one lovely and sentimental, one hilarious. And one from That Girl, very appropriate in content and signed by her very own hand.

And, I got the aforementioned vacuum cleaner. Some people would be indignant at the thought of a vacuum cleaner to commemorate your half-century on this earth.

NOT ME. I am all WOOHOO! Because it’s a CORDLESS DYSON. It’s my DREAM VACUUM.

I don’t have it, yet. It’s on order. But OMG when it arrives, I will be VACUUMING THE CRAP OUT OF EVERYTHING. Well, for 15 minutes, anyway. Because it’s got limited battery life.

(Hey that kind of vacuum power should not be trifled with! It’s a DYSON, FFS! Any bigger and it would have the suction power of a MEDIUM SIZED BLACK HOLE.)

So yes. Back to the point. Vacuum = good.

Also, I found fresh coffee and a giant bottle of Bailey’s on the breakfast table. WIN.

And BDH made me a mushroom omelette for breakfast, which is amazeballs. He’s really good at breakfast.

Much of my day will go on as normal. Although now that my birthday is here, we will be able to acknowledge Christmas, and begin decorating and watching movies and listening to music.

I like to make sure my birthday is done before we move on to the Big Holiday. Other people with December birthdays will TOTALLY GET THAT.

So today has school and art class for That Girl and some cleaning and making gingerbread dough for me.

And in the evening, there will Chinese food for dinner. Which, as a child, I always asked for as a birthday dinner, because it was the only time during the year when we could order Chinese food, because I was the only one in the family who liked it.

We like it FREQUENTLY here, so it’s not a special occasion food like it was then. But still. Tasty! And we’ll go out for a fancy dinner on the weekend, too.

So, yeah. Today’s your birthday! (Na na na na naaa na nuh nuh!) We’re gonna have a good time! (Na na na na naaa na nuh nuh!)  Etcetera! Happy birthday to you!

Fifty. It’s the new… fifty. But it’s okay.

2 thoughts on “Fifty

  1. I can’t believe I forgot to wish you happy birthday!?!?! I even put it in my calendar….. I am so easily distracted. Happiest of birthdays to you, my friend!

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