La La How The Life Goes On

Mid-Life Crisis

Posted on: April 13, 2013

A particular gentleman who does not enjoy appearing on this blog is about to turn 40. I will therefore say little about him in particular, except to say that he finds himself constantly shocked that 1990 was not 10 years ago, that kids these days don’t really know anything about The Police or Sting, and that damn he just feels like time is flying by too fast. Like, how did Mick Jagger and Paul McCartney–who were considered old when we were young–get to be eleventy-seven?!

Here’s why. For the past nine years we have had little kids! Trust. Nothing makes you feel like time is that “giiiiiant suckin’ sound” heralded by Ross Perot back in the day than looking at your 9 month old, blinking, and then noticing that she is now almost 9 YEARS old. What have we done exactly in those 9 years? Climbed the Alps? Cured cancer? Swam with the dolphins? Nope. We have raised an heir and a spare. Done the daily grind. Fallen asleep from exhaustion. Oh, hello 40. We didn’t see you sneaking up on us. But there you are.

So you can approach The Big Four-Oh in two ways. You can freak out, acquire inadvisable plastic surgery, buy a Ferrari to drive your mistress around and dress like Simon Cowell. Or, you can accept your rightful place among the Eminence Grises with grace. As I continually tell this person who will not be named but whose name rhymes with Fada, “turning 40 is better than not getting to turn 40.” Believe that. Which he does. But 40 is different for everyone.

imageMe? I am comforted by the fact that Simon LeBon has grown old with me. I mean, back in 1986 when I was 14 and he was near 30, I knew in my heart that our marriage and eternal love would not be possible. The age gap would be too hard on our families. And the press! Well, you can just imagine the Jerry Lee Lewis comparisons that would rend the very fabric of Simon’s love for me and for Duran Duran itself. No. It must needs be the love that dare not speak its name. But now? Age ain’t nothin’ but a thang! Two middle-aged New Romantics getting it on?! That’s a god damn reality show! So cry me a river that rock stars get old. It just means that this girl now has a chance! (Call me, Simon).

Yes, I LOVE being an old fart. I get to say things like, “flibbidyfloo! Get offa my lawn!” Or, to my 20 year-old college student babysitter, “That girl looks like Julianna Margulies. From ER and The Good Wife.” Blank stare. “Never mind. I’m saying she’s pretty.” Like, obviously she has no idea who Julianna Margulies is! She was about 8 years old when ER was on! And it would have been like someone asking me in college to identify anyone on Murder She Wrote–or any network show besides Seinfeld. “Abe Vigoda! You don’t know Abe Vigoda?!” I’m 20. You are a senior citizen speaking Sanskrit. Please go away so I can drink more beer.

I revel in my out-of-touchness. I plan to enjoy it until I have to get back in-touchness as Bambina approaches teenagerhood and having my finger on the pulse of Kids These Days will be mission critical. Right now if you ask Bambina to imitate a teenager, she pretends to text while driving while squealing “Justin Bieber!” Truly hilarious–and naively sweet–to behold. The real thing will be less hilarious, I’m sure. So trust that I am going to be ALL OVER that situation. I will know what YOLO means.i will not be hoodwinked into believing that you are “going to the mall” because I will know that teenagers no longer go to malls. Oh yeah. I am on that. But until then, I am all good with The Kids thinking I’m a relic.

Which is not to say that i do not remain the most awesome relic ever. Because in the meantime I am also reminding my husband that he and Heather Thomas are finally Of Age. image


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