This is the year my life will finally begin, apparently: One Thing or a Mother

Well, we did it. We had ourselves a merry (well, as merry as spending the majority of the festive season without seeing your loved ones can be) little Covid Christmas. Well done, everyone, and happy new year.
She might not look like it, but Katherine is celebrating a big birthday this yearShe might not look like it, but Katherine is celebrating a big birthday this year
She might not look like it, but Katherine is celebrating a big birthday this year

Although 2021 seems a bit bleak so far (as I write this, coronavirus cases are continuing to rise and I’m resigned to the fact primary schools won’t be open as normal for some time – and I’m not keen on being locked up inside my house again!). I’m having to believe that as more and more people get vaccinated against this disease, there is light at the end of the tunnel and we will reach the stage where we no longer have to fear our friends and families as mortal enemies to our health.

It’s not helped by the fact that the post-Christmas and new year slump is always the mot depressing time of the year, as we all come to terms with our inevitable weight gain and the knowledge that balmy summer days are still months and months away.

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And this year, on top of all this, I have to face another fairly chilling reality.

I have a big birthday looming towards the end of the year, and despite what you might think from my youthful appearance in my photo, I’m not turning 30... (Although give it a few weeks stuck inside with two young children and I’ll no doubt be looking 20 years older!)

I can’t really get my head around it, because in my head I still feel like a child, as if I’m still waiting to grow up and decide what I want to do with my life.

When people talk about young people, I still think ‘yep, that’s me’, but when I reach this milestone age, I’m not sure anybody will really agree. Eeek.

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For now, I’m just going to take comfort in the fact that I have a few months before I officially have to accept that I’m definitely a grown-up.

I think this failure to accept the obvious makes things like lockdown so tough to take.

It’s pretty hard to avoid dealing with the grown-up realities of life when you become a prisoner in your own home and the only options for entertainment are refereeing your fighting children or tidying up.

It’s the same thing with owning a house. It’s all so exciting when you move out and go it alone. And then, when something goes wrong, you suddenly realise how good you had it with your parents. (Plus, it was so much cheaper, too!)

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There’s a novelty factor at first, but the reality of being a grown up is that it can be a bit mundane, and it’s bloomin’ hard work a lot of the time. It was much easier when shopping magically appeared in the cupboards and somebody else paid the bills!

That’s why I so loved the idea that I was only dipping my toes into the adult world when I needed to. Sure, I have an important job and look after my children, but in my head I was still ticking the young-person box. And I’m just not ready to be considered middle-aged! Gulp!

I had hoped to celebrate/commiserate ‘my life beginning’ with a party at one of the great bars in Worthing, but who knows if that will be a possibility.

Seeing as my last year as a 30-something is essentially being stolen by Covid, maybe I should just push the big birthday back a year.

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But until then, I’ll probably be spending the next few months consoling myself by munching my way through the Worthing chocolate mountain my husband and I created before Christmas.

Turns out nine boxes of Matchmakers, plus 
about 20 of other various chocolate goodies is a little much!