The New Fifties?

24 Sep

It was my 30th birthday last week (Since it was on Thursday It’s still considered polite to congratulate me so go ahead I’ll wait;  Thank you! That’s so nice of you to remember! Yes I’m still accepting gifts!). Anyway I digress. I had a great birthday, and a great time, but by 8.30 p.m all I wanted to do was send everyone home and go to bed. I finally went to bed at 9:30 p.m. That night I woke up at 3:00 a.m with a new life realization:  I’m old. Or at least I feel old, and the worst (or best?) part I actually like it. It was hard to come to grips with this new reality. I tossed and turned a lot that night. Has my life really changed so much? Have I said goodbye to the old me? Is this good? Is this bad? I just don’t know. Let me tell you how the day went so you can help me decide  why and how all this life realization came about.

I woke up at 6:10 a.m as someone was waiting patiently to be fed, he ate. Then we got in bed where we had breakfast (compliments of my husband) and then Phillip gave me my presents (a part of my birth day which I obviously hate). Then it was up for the day. Peter took his 40 minute nap and I hurried to get ready as we had his 6 month doctors appointment. I had made the appointment one month in advance. I like going to the pediatrician almost as much as I like my birthday (I’m not kidding). Peter did his best to behave at the doctors office. He barely cried when given his 6 month shots, he didn’t pee on the bed (such a great present for mommy) AND he rolled (The doctor was impressed at how fast he did it, I did my best: Oh that? yes, all the time, look).

When we came home I left Peter with his grandma, and I went to get my hair done. The hairdresser thought it would be alright to tell me that something had to be done about my eyebrows. So I gave him a ‘don’t push your luck’ look (while making use of my horrid eyebrows). He took the hint and kept his ideas to himself for the rest of the appointment. With this newly found silence I began thinking about eyebrow etiquette and I realized I hadn’t had my hair done in a year (The brows have been done regularly, I promise).  A whole year had passed since my hair had seen a curling iron, a hair dryer, the little tub where it gets washed. It was nice to be doing this for myself. It was the first time in 6 months (or even longer) that I had done some self pampering, and I was all alone, no Peter. It felt strange, but nice, I was relaxed. No shushing, holding, strolling. Just me and my eyebrows.

Phillip came by with Peter to pick me up, we went to have lunch with my father, his girlfriend (whom my brother and I secretly call ‘new mom’ because my mother one day told us (while mad) to go have fun with our new mother, and it just stuck around), and my brother. When we arrived Phillip asked the waiter if we could open our own bottles of wine, and then he took out two bottles that we had brought over from our trip to Bordeaux 3years ago (Scoring mayor points with his father in law). And so the drinking of the wine began, just as it has happened on every birthday, graduation, Christmas, or any event that involves good food and my father. Except this time there was a little boy who needed his mother to be able to walk.  After the first two bottles were gone, my father ordered another one, and then another one. When I said I had to go, my father ordered Cognac to toast my 30 years and Peter’s six months. We drank the Cognac and then they ordered more (at this point I stopped, I became aware that someone had to be there for Peter). The lunch  lasted 4.5 hours, it only ended because friends and family were waiting for me at home, and I ran out. I had the best time. But deep deep down something was bothering me: Peter.

Let me explain: Before Peter was born, every birthday celebration with my father went exactly like this one, at the end of it, it was hard to remember everyone’s name. So I never used to schedule anything for the rest of the day. I knew I would be having a long lunch with my father and about 9:00 p.m I would meet up with my mother for a late dinner. But this year, when Phillip asked me what I wanted to do, I said I would love to have friends and family come over and have some tea and snacks (yes, that’s how much I thought I had changed). He told me I was crazy, he reminded me we were having lunch with my father and that was always a long affair. This is what I told him (I might have raised my voice a little, it’s a little blurry): I have a baby now! Remember? The little chubby one over there? We are not getting drunk with Peter! So when we actually got (me) Tipsy and (Phillip) a little more than Tipsy, it kind of threw me of base. It was as if my old self was fighting with the new me. I had mixed feelings. This motherhood thing didn’t go so well with drinking all afternoon, who knew?

I then looked at Peter, my little love, and it hit me: I love the new me.  That day I had a glimpse of what my life Pre-Peter used to be like. And although fun (Oh so fun). At the end of the day, it made me realize I am as happy as I have ever been. You see when we got home from lunch at 6:00 p.m, there were many people at my house. People I love and enjoy spending time with. And although I had fun, I kept looking up stairs, wishing I could go take a nap. I went to bed at 9:30 like we do every night since Peter started sleeping through, and it felt great. Because apparently motherhood has turned me into a full-eyebrowed 50 year old, 40 minute napping gal; And I wouldn’t change it for the world.

Yes, motherhood is hard.  Sometimes I feel Bill Murray is going to appear out of nowhere telling me the roads will be closed. Sometimes I can barely keep my eyes open. Sometimes I wish I had more than 40 minutes to myself. But never ever have I doubted that coming into a room and seeing this makes it all more than worth it…


In other news: Peter’s door is creaking. The door I close when he falls asleep is making noise. Really house? Really?


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