Middle age at 30?

MY options were: read Mary Moody’s coming-middle-age autobiography or watch Sex and The City.

I hadn’t read anything by The Catch-Up host before but a candid interview on Channel 10’s 9am piqued my interest.

She talked openly about being an unofficial spokesperson for women who wanted to run away from home – she had tapped into a seldom-spoken desire by most stay-at-home mums, regardless of age.

And, quite frankly, Carrie Bradshaw’s neuroses were wearing thin.

But it’s with some chagrin that I admit the real reason: I was feeling more Mary’s age than SJP’s.

I’d like to put it down to having recently turned 30 and the usual worry that those wild, irresponsible 20s were over with.

In reality though, my 20s were quite staid. Albeit, I kicked off my late-teens with two and a half years at uni when I clubbed three times a week.

But by the age of 21, I had graduated from uni and was working full-time.

Since then, I’ve bought a house, been overseas three times, got married, been a newspaper editor and a columnist, wrote a novel and had a baby.

My 20s read much like a 30-year olds but I suspected that may have been part of the problem.

My misspent youth started halfway through 1997 and ended in 1999, a few regrets and light bruises later.

No real harm done.

Was I therefore destined to become a 50-year old transient?

Running from my marriage, family and home to rediscover what all my friends were currently experiencing – travel, drinking, dancing, seasonal romances and, well, drinking?

Thankfully, Mary’s book – as intimate as it was – did not sit well with me.

I did not see myself leaving behind my husband and children to travel around Europe.

No, I expect to take them all with me.

So, this wasn’t the early onset of a mid-life crisis, but I was certainly experiencing an impasse in my life.

And here it is: There’s a certain naivete you simply aren’t privy to in your second pregnancy.

In your second pregnancy, the logistics of child-rearing are much more real – and infinitely more intimidating.

Particularly when the second pregnancy isn’t quite as meticulously planned as the first and you’re still trying to get your first-born through the night without your constant presence.

Baby number two, when you’re reading this – don’t think for a minute you weren’t wanted.

I was delighted to learn I was pregnant the second time round. So delighted, I shared the news with your Dad on Christmas morning as a surprise present.

But mum is still only human: unsure about her own abilities and concerned she’s not always getting it right.

Worrying to think I’m meant to guide you into womanhood when I’m barely feeling out of my 20s.


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