You won’t find a series of birthday posts in my archives. My children won’t be able to go back and read about how they were starting to walk and speak on their first birthday. Nowhere do I write, “You are growing more and more independent every day and Mommy is so proud of you.” They will only be able to read about that time they landed in the ER and about my spectacular postpartum periods and about how I doubled over vomiting from heat stroke in front of them.
I do this for you, dear readers. Because of course I am proud of my kids, but … YAWN … So boring! I think just dozed off in the middle of that last thought. I do, however, actually celebrate their birthdays in real life. They get parties and presents and cake and we take pictures and post them on Facebook or just keep them in our phones until we lose them. Real life!
But today is my birthday. I don’t get much in the way of real life celebrations because, you know, BABY JESUS has a birthday coming up too. I also wouldn’t have it any other way because I am an adult and I don’t need to mark the passing of every year with streamers and cake or Jäger shots and lap dances. I definitely don’t need tea and crumpets. Nonetheless, I feel like marking the moment here.
I am 34 years old today which is not so old but also, everyone would agree, not so young. It’s my last victory lap in the 18 – 34 age bracket and, really, with three kids under my belt I guess it’s about time. I was feeling kind of introspective and thought I had a lot to say about this aging business. Now that I’m writing, however, I don’t know that there is that much to say. There’s only the same feeling I had when I turned 24, really, which was, “You’re not a kid anymore. It’s time to grow up and get shit done.” The promise of professional success that has always shimmered somewhere in the middle future, sliding just out of reach like a desert mirage of prosperity, is still there. Only now that middle future is getting shorter. In fact, it’s already here so I just need to pick up my game.
I got to be a friend’s plus one for the Lowest of the Low show at the Horseshoe last night which turned out to be a very fitting celebration. Attending a rock show is, after all, a very youthful thing to do. That it was The Lowest of the Low (a hugely influential Toronto band from the early ’90s) reunion show was even better. I was 15 years old when the band split up in 1994, so I still got to be one of the youngest people in the audience. And here were these musicians that are pushing 50 on the stage and they rocked it. And they looked good. And it was a lot of fun.
The old Horseshoe Tavern is also celebrating it’s 65th birthday this year with a freshly inked eight year lease.
So here’s to another year of doing what you do and leaving the getting old thing to other people.