This week a vastly shared article on the internet pointed out that those born at the turn of the millenium are actually old enough to drive this year.
Let that sink in a moment.
Children born in the year 2000 are now able to drive. Actual cars.
I remember New Years Eve 1999 like it was yesterday. OK maybe not yesterday but some time fairly recently.
I was 22. We had friends round to our house. It was a pretty sedate affair, we drank and had snacks. Probably sausage rolls, crisps and other small food. I like small food.
There was a tepid debate about whether Travis we’re actually THAT shit (they were). Jools Holland’s Millennium Hootenanny was on in the background. It turned midnight…. Mobile phones carried on working, planes didn’t fall out of the sky and computers did not form an uprising against the people.
It was nothing like the media hype had promised – thankfully so.
It was the dullest of dull nights in the grand scheme of things, but still doesn’t feel like it was 17 years ago.
A lot has happened in the 17 years since.
I got my degree and my Masters *showing off*. Been married and divorced. Had my highest moments and my lowest. I’ve moved away from my home town to start afresh. I’ve lost friends and made better ones. I’ve visited some amazing places. Met this pretty fly guy and had 2 children.
Yet I still feel no older than I did that night. I fell more settled and wiser, but no older.
I have mentioned before that when people refer to ‘young mothers’ I nod my head in agreement only to quickly remember I was actually almost of ‘advanced maternal age’ when I had Aoife.
I feel like I’m young with my life ahead of me then I catch a look of my sagging face and my ever growing middle and realise I’m not.
I look at pictures of me and I think I look OK then I worry that I actually look like I’m trying too hard or something. I’m not quite mutton dressed as lamb but I’m certainly way beyond lamb!
This week I visited the dentist. Oh the joys.
I hate the dentist, it’s a long story involving a tooth extraction and taking my brain. I stopped going for years but realised that if my children were to have a healthy dentist relationship I needed to pretend it was all OK and start going again.
I waited in the designated area, for that is what we do, and a young chap in trendy trainers with very gelled hair came through.
“Anna?” “Ummm yes?” “Hi, I’m Sam, follow me”
I trotted behind Sam. I say trotted but I actually skulked and wondered if my dodgy hip would get me down the stairs before my absence was noted.
I walked into the surgery and Sam had sat himself in the chair of authority… I looked at him, waiting for him to go and get his grown up for me.
Then I realised that this here young whipper snapper was indeed the qualified dentist who had chosen violating the mouths of others as his preferred career.
He was the Doogie Howser of teeth!
I nearly wept at both my age and my lack of career.
It’s not just the dental profession hiring youngsters.
Generally, when I visit a medical professional I hear…
“I have a student with me, do you mind if they sit in?” “Oh no, that’s fine”
I turn to look at the student and there sits some youngster from ‘The Secret Lives of Four Year Olds’ clutching a Fruit Shoot and chomping on Haribo.
“So what’s the problem today?”
“Aside from the fact you’re letting any child practice nowadays?”
It doesn’t feel appropriate to discuss the fact that all of my major organs feel like they’re trying to leave my body via my vajayjay in front of the young person, so I find myself miraculously cured and beat a hasty retreat.
It’s like the youth are taking over the world and making me feel old and inadequate.
Aoife’s teachers barely look old enough to teach her yet they’re more of an authority in her life than I am.
Not only is this youthful uprising serving to make me feel old, they have better jobs than me. They are more beautiful and pert than me. Their sleepless nights are through choice not through children.
It is entirely my fault that I do not have the life I envy. Due to feeling young in my head, I keep forgetting that time is passing me by. I don’t have all the time in the world and all these youthful, successful people are surrounding me to remind me. They’re doing life a bit better than me.
I am aware this sounds like the ramblings of a bitter old hag who resents the youth of today. That is exactly what I am. Just don’t tell them. I’ll be relying on them to fix this withered old body soon, starting with this dodgy hip.