Wednesday, 11 March 2009

I'm Old


Exactly thirty years ago, I slipped on some thin, rusted stairs at the side of my house, and sliced my shin neatly open. There was not much blood, and you could see the bone. To this day I can't touch my scar.

Exactly seven years ago, Max was three months old. Dave and I drove down with him to see a movie, Dave and I ended up having an argument so he went by himself, while I pushed Max around in his pram at the shopping centre. I was so, so angry at Dave. I called a friend, telling her I wanted to get a baseball bat and smash Daves car up and get the train home. Alarmed, she talked me off the psychopathic ledge (gee, there are a LOT of ledges in my life!) ... and Daves car emerged unscathed. Lucky.

Exactly thirty-three years ago, my mother packed me and my two sisters up in the car. I remember feeling scared and hurried, like someone was after us. I had buried a bulb in our garden and it was just starting to sprout. I quickly dug it up and rushed over to the confused neighbour and asked her if she could look after it. Then we all drove off without looking back. (I will never, ever understand why my mother chose my fourth birthday to leave our father. Couldn't she have waited one more day? I mean really .. the marriage had been shit from day one).

Exactly three years ago, we all drove down to the Norman Lindsay Art Gallery, where the boys collapsed in a heap on the front lawn so patrons had to step over them. I remember saying through gritted teeth - get up GET UP. Then we went and played 10 pin bowling and Max won. I had the biggest shiniest yearning for another child that I can't describe.

Exactly one year ago, my belly was big and round and I did not need any presents because I had everything I ever wanted plus so much more. Fuck I was happy. (Until, you know ... CANCER. What a big lesson to learn - do not wish for too much, or life will fuck you over.)

So.

Thirtyfreakinseven .... I AM OLD. I'm calling it, "Beginning my Early Late Thirties."

Last year, during yet another night where the whole house was black because Dave couldn't handle ANY lights on, I thought to myself, if we get through this .... I am gonna chuck the biggest fattest party.

And we did, and I am. This Saturday, actual, real - live PEOPLE are coming over to our house. For a big fat party. I'm not even scared/freaked out/paranoid about it. (Yet). Bring it on. What a way to smudge a house! I think maybe forty or fifty people are coming. I did have a celebrant organised, to renew our wedding vows as a big surprise for Dave. But he shit me so much this week that I cancelled the celebrant and got a karaoke machine instead. Why yes, yes I did. That is how things are done, in my life.

The last year, from the age of 36-37, has been the hardest, despicable year of my life. Thank God it's over. Thank God we get to have a party on Saturday.

Most of all, thank YOU. For reaching through my computer and giving me love, hugs, chocolate, funny stories, warmth, compassion. You are all wonderful.

And you are ALL invited to my big fat party on Saturday. Starts at 6pm .... I will provide the food, but you can bring your own alcohol. Fuck it if I'm paying for other people to get drunk! :)

Now, I must go. I need to exchange every single birthday present my wonderful husband bought for me.
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