Feeling my mortality

A few things happened over the holidays that have put me in a pensive mood. First off, the old witch who lived across the street from us when we were in the flat walked past the house while I was taking out the rubbish and stopped to chat. She knows everything that happens on the street and I could see that she wanted to know about our move. She was obviously in a happy mood because her parting shot was "It must be nice to have more space with the children. You look much happier in the house. I'd see you coming out of the flat looking miserable all the time. Ta ta, dear."

Then J's parents gave me some lovely silky PJs and a robe saying "I know you like to be comfortable but..." This got me thinking. I do dress for comfort over just about everything else - style, suitability and sometimes even cleanliness. Good lord, what has happened to me?

Then I was looking in the bathroom mirror and found loads of white hairs. Not the usual one or two that I've been plucking out since my twenties but a real sprinkling of white hair at each temple. After a mad ten minutes with the tweezers I felt better but I know they'll be back... and next time they'll bring friends.

And of course my birthday is coming up. 37. No longer "mid-30s". I'm over the hump and skidding into 40 now. How on earth did that happen?

My pattern seems to be that when a baby is born I utterly dedicate myself to them for the first two years. When Toby was two I had to have a small operation and when they woke me from the general anaesthetic my first words were "That's the best sleep I've had in two years." Well, Rosie is now two and it's time I started looking after myself a bit better. That's my New Year's resolution and I'm kicking it off with a shopping spree on my birthday. Time to pull myself together again.