For Sale – 1 Toddler

My mum used to say to me “I’m going to sell you and buy a mangle”.  So you can imagine, I knew what a mangle was from a very young age!

I have had similar feelings about my two and a half year old this week but I have resisted from mentioning Victorian drying implements as a threat and have, instead, opted to spend a lot of time muttering, looking cross and telling his father to deal with him.  Pathetic I know. 

I blogged about The Monster and my troubles with him before and we appear to have hit another pot hole in the whole Mother-Son bonding malarkey.  In fact a pothole is understating it a bit, it’s a meteor crevice.  I love him to bits, but right now, I don’t like him very much.

It all started on Friday when he just kept being naughty.  He seemed to take great joy in being naughty.  Naughty to me, to his sister, throwing things, getting annoyed.  Several trips to the step and he’d be alright again for about 10 minutes and then something else would happen.  It got to the stage where I was just talking in a steady stream of discipline to him and I felt awful.  So just before bed I took him aside to talk to him about why I was upset and he just misbehaved a bit more.  He has no problem making eye contact with me and is very good at understanding emotion, but he decided to look at the ceiling, making silly noises rather than look at me.  Then he wouldn’t listen to me and every so often just laughed in a hysterical way.  Talk about winding me up!

I closed the day on Friday, looked forward to Saturday and the hope we would move on.  He was still troublesome, ending with him screaming by the end of the evening, refusing to brush his teeth, generally ignoring his bedtime routine and flouting all the rules.  Exasperated!

On Sunday we went ice skating (it was Pickle’s Joy Jar entry) and The Monster was doing ok.  He got ice skates on, and initially went on the ice. Unfortunately the ice rink was being halved with barriers and as 3 of the 4 of us were beginners/novices we couldn’t skate quick enough to nip across, so we had to get off the ice and walk around to get back onto the ice rink again.  The Monster didn’t like this.  He screamed getting off the ice, wouldn’t get back on it again. Every time we had convinced him to go on, he’d kick his feet out and you were left holding him up, his bottom inches from the ice. He wouldn’t use the ice penguin to hold on to, wouldn’t hold your hand and hubby got too far around to be able to turn back and had to carry him (which he got into trouble for doing by the staff).  So The Monster had to be supervised in the stands, occasionally walking on his skates, mostly crying, screaming and tantruming – for nearly 90 minutes!!

Thankfully, the day, on the whole was brilliant because my daughter loved every second of it. Had never ice skated before, but loved it.  Her daddy and her are already making plans to come again in half term, whilst The Monster is in nursery.

Meanwhile I took The Monster to have his nappy changed and he was…….well…….horrendous!  Refused to get undressed, then when I’d managed to do that, he wouldn’t let me put another nappy on.  Kicking, hitting, screaming, I needed to wrestle him to get it on. Bearing in mind we were on a changing table, so half my job was ensuring he didn’t fall head first off it.  I was so angry at one stage, I grabbed his face to look at it and talk to him to try to get him to calm down.  I practically (I didn’t) threw him off the changing table when I had finally managed to get him dressed through the kicks, plopped him on the floor and walked out of the baby change room to take some deep breaths.  He stopped crying and stood there unsure of what his next move was.  Eventually wandering out to check I was nearby and then wandering back in the room again.

I really wanted to put him on Ebay.  I wouldn’t have even sold him to the highest bidder!

The rest of the day I left hubby in charge. He’d upset me so much I had gone for a quiet cry in the loos and he had his nap on the car journey back, which gave me some respite.  We then went to an art fair and he was ok throughout until we got the cafe where he started throwing things again and pulling angry faces at us.  Awful.

I know it’s still a language issue for him, but he has a very good understanding of what we say and how we feel.  I’m very conscious that at the moment he’s the “naughty one” whilst Pickle is “The good one” and I don’t want it to be like that.  I praise him when he’s good and try desperately to ignore bad behaviour, but it’s often so bad it would be wrong to ignore.

I have thought about buying books on raising boys, but have been dipping in and out of the book by Cordelia Fine called “Delusions of Gender” and so many studies are shown that we really aren’t that different and by treating genders differently we are setting up stereotypes from the get go, I really don’t want to do that.  However, he IS different to my daughter.  Maybe it is personality though.  Maybe I need to find a book that sits somewhere between my book and the book about raising boys. I really don’t know.

All I really know is that raising The Monster is hard work at the moment and I’m really sad about it.  I don’t want to sell him, really.  I don’t even want to joke about him being faulty or needing new programming.  He’s not faulty, he’s challenging.  The problem is that I need a game plan to cope with it and I’m not sure where to look for it.

Recommendations?

The Best Things about being in my 40′s

No, I’m not scrapping around for the positivities of getting older (ok, maybe I am), but there are definitely positives to age and I think it’s important to remember them when you are bemoaning your saggy tummy and bum, staring horified at your crows feet and complaining (yet again) that you have no idea what it feels like to NOT be tired all the time.

So here are my top best things about being in my 40′s.

I’m smarter!

I definitely am. It’s not just because I did my Open University degree from age 34-40, although that no doubt helped, but the bottom line is that after spending 41 years on this planet I’ve picked up a thing or two.  Mostly about understanding people, but also a better understanding of the world, politics, environment and Life generally.  I can hold my own in a debate about Feminism.  NO way on this earth I could have done that 30 years ago.
Mistakes.  I’ve made alot of my big mistakes already and I’ve (hopefully) learnt from them.  No doubt I’ll make a few more before my time is up, but having made so many I know anything can be fixed, no matter how hopeless they look at the time.

I like my body and know my Clothes

It’s taken a bloody long time, but I think I’ve figured out what clothes suit me and what don’t.  It’s a sad fact of life that once we appreciate the shape of our bodies, learn to love them to some degree, they are already on their way out.  For me, being pregnant helped me appreciate my body the most.  I know look at my wrinkled belly and it reminds of my children, not of an ageing body.  I know a cinched in waist, no matter of the size will always make you look fabulous and wearing voluminous dresses or tops with no shape will do the complete opposite.

I’m waaaaaay more Interesting

I’d like to think I’ve always been a fairly interesting person.  People always seemed to remember me from a distance meeting whilst I was scrapping around in the recesses of my mind just trying to remember their face.  I think this was mostly borne from the fact I was over 18 before I realised I was capable of being thought of as pretty.  My family had convinced me I was Frankenstein’s monster so I worked on my personality, established a sense of humour and focussed on watching and figuring things out.  I think what makes me more interesting now is my life experience.  I have a “colourful” past (or so I’m told) and I have no issue talking about it. I find other people’s past just as interesting and could wile away a whole evening talking about loads of topics.  I think I have depth, whereas in my 20′s I was a bit empty, I now realise.

More Money

Oh yes, I’ve got more money than I had in my 20′s and 30′s.  It didn’t magically appear but I made good decisions in work, improved on my knowledge and worked my way up.  I have a mortgage, a big house, but can afford to buy myself an item or two of clothing each month and buy that Clarins product.  In my 20′s I was earning less than £700 a month and living in a bedsit. I know which I prefer.

I know who I am and what I like

This is a biggy for me.  I know what freaks me out, what brings up my anxiety and what calms me down and THIS alone is worth being in my 40′s.  In my 20′s and 30′s I got all of those emotions and had no idea what the hell was going on.  I would argue with those around me and spend hours feeling sorry for myself with no real idea on how to go about fixing it.  Whilst I still struggle occasionally, on the whole I know “why” and know “how” to make myself feel better.  A brisk walk, a spot of gardening, 20 minutes by myself.  I’m quicker to apologise for my actions and to move on.

I know how I form Friendships

I’m a slow burner. There is just no two ways about it.  I recently went to a tweet up (which I had to psych myself up for weeks in advance) to go and say “hi” to a bunch of people I didn’t know.  They were lovely, welcoming, friendly and just delightful, but I was a fish out of water. I felt uncomfortable, I had no reference to talk to them and I just wanted to be at home.  I know this seems contrary to my point above, but there was an agenda to meeting these people, rather than it being a spontaneous, accidental chat with people I knew around me in case things went pear shaped.  Firstly, I’m very picky about who I’m friends with, but once I know we’ve hit it off, I could well be the most loyal friend you have.  I’m happy to live with this.  It’s just the way I am.  Please don’t mistake my aloofness for anything other than mild terror.

I’m prepared for Child rearing

I think I would have been a terrible mother in my 20′s and early 30′s.  I would say that wouldn’t I?  I do think it’s true though.  Of course I don’t care remotely whether you are 16 or 46 when you have your children, provided you raise children to be considerate, kind, polite and with a suitable moral code.  I know the advantages to raising children in your 20′s, but for me, this was definitely the right age for it.  Now with a 5 year old and a 2 year old and me in my 40′s I have the strength of character to ignore short term gains in order to ensure long term achievement.  I have had the time to reflect on my own upbringing, stop finger pointing, accept both sides of the story and adapt my teachings to try and not make the same mistakes.  Of course I will create a whole bunch of new ones, that is inevitable, but as one of my goals is to be as honest with my children as I can (within context and reason), I’m hoping they’ll accept some of those mistakes and build on top of them for their children.  Of course I also have the skill (and the psychology degree) to create new ways to get a toddler to eat vegetables.  THAT is my biggest achievement.
Laughing.  I enjoy laughing so much more now than I ever did.  I laughed alot years ago too, but I think I took it for granted. Now if I spend an evening with friends and we laugh alot, I appreciate how fantastic it is.  I live for the joy and laughter now and know that in a world of responsibility, pain and emotion, how the laughter and joy should be celebrated all the more.

I appreciate A cup of tea

How wonderful can this be?  I used to stare at my parents in disbelief as they made their third cup of tea of the day in 40 degree heat (“it helps you cool down”), but I really do get it. Tea, cake, a meal out at a good restaurant, a spontaneous walk in the woods.  It is the little things in life that bring the greatest joy and it’s just a shame it took getting to 40 to discover that.  I intend to appreciate it.

So yeah, lots of rubbish things about getting older, but I think FAR more good things come with age.  What are your best things about getting older?

My Changing Wardrobe

One of the nice things about starting blogging, especially a blog about my age, is that I feel a small pressure to get my act together on the clothing front.  I’ve also got into the habit of reading other bloggers, specifically fashion blogs for my age range, and seeing what things might suit me.

I’ve noted that if you have the legs, but don’t want to “get them out” then skinny jeans, jeggings or leggings will do wonders.  Teaming that with a fitted but flowing top and you have a pretty impressive silhouette.

With this is mind I tottered (actually I clomped, I don’t tend to wear stilettos) over the road to where there is a concession in a department store near my work to see what things I could buy from my new favourite clothing shop, Mint Velvet.

I found this beautiful, transparent top and bought it and wore it last week with my River Island, pleather panelled skinny trousers and high ankle boots. What do you think?

Whilst trying on the outfit above (which, by the way, needed a black vest underneath as the white one contrasted with the trousers) I took note of how much my wardrobe has changed.

Firstly, I have an awful lot of work tops that don’t embarrass me. They aren’t perfect, but they are pretty nice and I’ve got a lot of choice, so I can go 2 or 3 weeks without wearing the same one.  I’m still wearing dank, dark and uninspiring work trousers.  I’m not sure how to get out of that rut.  I have ditched the matching jackets though. They are upstairs in storage and I wear cardigans.  It’s taken me a while to realise that my very wide shoulders were really enough without a massive jacket on them.

My going out clothes are more numerous.  Not dresses, that is still in need of improvement, but I have jeggings, the tight trousers, some dark blue bootcut jeans and just generally have more choice.  I have some really lovely tops, almost all are from Mint Velvet.   I don’t go out very often, which is the dilemma I have about my casual clothes as well.

My casual clothes for doing the school run, going to ballet, day time visiting and just mooching around are a bit dire.  Some of the going out clothes mentioned above could definitely be worn but then they aren’t special going out clothes anymore are they?  How do you find a balance between mooching and evening drinks?  At the moment I wear either my dark blue skinnies with a stretchy striped long sleeved t-shirt or one of my jeans, either skinny or bootcut and as we’ve had such dire weather any choice of top is covered up under a summer coat.  I can’t keep doing that though can I?  I’m going to have to give this some serious thought.

For the coming season I’m still on the look out for a proper hippy maxi dress for daytime. Not a v neck neckline or a drawstring at the waist. Basically the ones that were about 2 years ago and I forgot to get on the band wagon for.  This will be perfect for my trip to Spain and allow me to cover up my veiny legs.  I’m also looking for some more flats, but in

Falling Apart at the Seams

For those of you following me on Twitter, you know I’ve had a bit of a weekend of it.
It all started on Friday when about 30 seconds prior to hitting “publish” I got a bit of a flutter in my heart. Nothing too odd about that I guess. I’m always a little apprehensive at this point of publishing a blog post, but the flutter seemed a bit big for that.

It didn’t go away. It hung about like a great big, fluttery, anxiety driven, heart disorder. I took deep breaths, I tried to focus on something else and I stopped making cups of tea. Nothing worked.
It was the bank holiday weekend, so lots of stuff going on and I just had to get on with it frankly. I was a little worried but did what I could to underplay it, mostly by talking about it, but also by reminding myself that I am a big ball of anxiety at the best of times and it’s probably just that. I’ve brought in on myself and it’ll go in time.

By talking about it on Twitter, Facebook and with real life people (I know!) I soon found out that I’m not alone with this sort of thing. A good friend of mine battled illness, panic attacks and heart palpitations all through her 41st year. After trying everything she finally took back some control by seeing a nutritionist and with that an acceptance that she also had ME and needed to know her limits.

Even more bizarrely I found out her husband was going through a similar issue. Palpitations and panic attacks over seemingly minor issues. He’s been to see his GP who has told him that it appears to be anxiety driven. Hardly surprising considering he’s been worried about getting older, concerned about where his career is going, having that whole “What’s it all about” moment.
My cousin has just left an essay rant on my Facebook about her battle for the last 10years with palpitations. Finding yoga and deep breathing works the best, but she’s just had to accept it as part of her life.
What the hell is going on?

Do we all reach a certain age and start worrying so much that we bring on anxiety type symptoms. I guess we do all worry that we ARE finally adults with children who need support. Perhaps we are wondering about where we will live, if we’ll ever earn more than we spend and what the key to a happy life is. I thought I’d figured that all out. Maybe not.

So, where does that leave me. Slowly (quickly) palpitating in the corner, that’s where. Just been to A&E and given the all clear for anything sinister so I’ve got a doctors appointment on Tuesday, hopefully to rule out anything thyroid related or perhaps a deficiency of some sort. In the meantime I’m topping up my fluids and trying to think happy thoughts. Who knew getting older would cause such a fuss!

Freefalling into 40′s Facebook Faux Pas

See what I did there.  It’s practically the acronym FFFFF.

I know there has been quite a few of these recently, but it is Ranty Friday and therefore a perfect day to spout about MY rules for Facebook.  I think you’ll agree, they are pretty universal.

I consider myself to know a few unwritten rules of Social Media.  I like to abide by them because it’s the right thing to do and also it helps keep an equilibrium.  I make mistakes so I accept others do too.  However most of these Facebook mistakes below are often done over a period of time and there really is no excuses. Get your act together.

1. Don’t put up a photo about your child with the words “Isn’t she beautiful?” or something similar.  For starters, nobody likes to be preempted. Secondly nobody likes someone boasting about their own child. Thirdly I can’t believe people genuinely think their child is beautiful to everyone else.  I have never made that assumption about my own children. I think they are beautiful, but that has to be my mother bias.  After all, they are replicas of me.    Let me be the judge and chances are I will say something genuinely nice or else I may lie. You’ll never know which, but don’t tell me what to say.

2. There is a “first baby clause” in my Facebook Rules.  I will allow you about 6-12 months of constant, boring, pointless and frankly often disgusting updates about your first child.  After that I WILL stop commenting and will probably hide your updates.  I do like seeing babies, I like watching them grow, but seriously, we’ve all been there (and for those that haven’t, they really don’t care) and therefore typing “Bailey just ate pureed pea” is about as interesting as watching paint dry.  Please stop. I once had someone accidentally complain about one of my statuses (she wrote it on a mutual friends wall) being about Open University assignments.  Fair enough complaint, except less than a month later she posted a poo in the potty picture. WHAT?  I know what I’d rather see.

3. Don’t have a Facebook Account if your prime reason for opening it is to be a voyeur.  Seriously!  I give you a peek into my house/dilemmas/achievements/fears/opinions and then you do the same. It’s only fair. You do that shit, and I’m putting you on my custom list. No status updates for you.

4. Don’t open a Facebook account, do all of the above and then 6 months later post your just giving page. It’s rude!  I will not donate to you on principle.  The idea that you only use Facebook for your own gain is wrong.  It is not a one way street.  This also includes anyone who posts about an event they are organising etc.. We all know what you are doing and we don’t like it. That’s why you only got 1 like.

5. Don’t post 5 status a day all about what you are up to, how fab your life is, what a gorgeous husband you have etc.. and then NEVER comment on anyone elses status.  That is also quite rude. It’s called Social Media. Be bloody Social!  If you keep doing that, I will put you on my custom list.  Oh and by the way, I’ve stop commented. You may have noticed everyone else has too.  We can only take so much.

6. I am not just an agony aunt.  I’m happy to help with all of your problems, but bloody acknowledge my response.  It’s like asking people to come over and paint your house and then going off to a spa for the day and hoping they’ll be gone when you get back.  It’s nice to reply to each comment, but at the very least, at the end of the day, write “Thank you everyone, that’s really helpful” or something.  AGAIN, I’m over giving advice if you aren’t going to thank me occasionally for it.

7. Don’t post anything racist, misogynistic or homophobic.  I won’t tolerate it. I don’t need that negativity and hate in my life and neither does anyone else.

8. The same goes for liking a stupid picture linked to a vague story that when you check with snopes.com is a complete and utter lie.  If you are going to share something, check on a legitimate myths, rumours and urban legend busting site first. It takes about 2 minutes and stops me from wanting to punch you in the face.

9. Don’t copy your tweets onto your Facebook account.  I will hide all your updates you numpty.

AND THE ULTIMATE FAUX PAS

10. When a Facebook page says “comment jump and see what happens to this picture” or something of a similar ilk, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE use your bloody brain. I don’t have a computer background but even I know that this makes absolutely no sense.  If in doubt, don’t share, don’t comment and don’t like.  You look like a bloody idiot.

Any others I’ve missed?

The Ofsted Report

Instructions for talking to me about the Ofsted

•  Tip your head to one side
• Look down then up (the Princess Diana look)
• Suck in your lower lip and say
•  ”I’m really sorry to hear that?”

 Yep, the report that I talked about here has been written and all the parents and teachers got advanced copies.  Worse it could possibly be.  It’s in special measures, which is now called “Inadequate”.

 Whenever I’ve heard of schools being in Special Measures I’ve imagined a school full of vigilantes, teachers smoking in the corner of the classroom, unruly behaviour, terrible grades and a school falling apart.  Our school could not be further from this if you tried.  It is a lovely school with kind, supportive teachers and very very happy well-behaved children.  It was just unlucky that the framework changed and our school has had an inspection right at the start of it.  Throw in the fact our headmaster had been with the school for over 20 years and you really do have the recipe for “how to fail an Ofsted”.  I imagine there are some headteachers out there who have a curriculum they can pull out the bag in a days notice ready for inspections, but our school isn’t like that.  It’s a straight forward, no-nonsense school who isn’t going to pretend it’s anything but. 

 Obviously, I’m not excusing the failure. Things could definitely have been done and clearly some of the teachers have let things slip, moved their eye off the ball.  It’s a shame that one of the biggest failures was a lack of the school to create separate areas in the classroom for differing pupils abilities.  This was cited from Years 3 to 6.  Yet, myself and several of the other parents said it was seeing this on our walk around the school that made us choose it.  Was it an “off” day?  Clearly.  It also failed on interaction in the classroom, something else that I’ve seen on various occasions.

 Thankfully Reception came out Outstanding, which I would have been surprised if it hadn’t.  Pickle is learning so much and enjoying it a lot and her teacher is amazing, so I’m glad that that was recognised. 

They’ve already done so much since last term, since the school learnt just days after the inspection that they had done so badly.  Our head teacher retired as he had wanted to back in December, a new interim headteacher has been bought in with an Ofsted background and we have had a maths specialist appointed, curriculum moved about, extra teacher training days, a complete stop to all leave during school hours and various other changes.  I’m feeling positive about things now.  As many teachers I’ve talked to have said that it’s a bit of a blessing to get a score like this so early in my daughter’s learning.  The borough will chuck a lot of money and expertise at the problem to bring it up to scratch and Pickle will benefit from that as she moves up the school.  Of course, most of my teacher friends are not big fans of Ofsted anyway.  Constantly moving the goal posts and it being a box ticking exercise rather than a real reflection of the school.

 I have to agree. The school I know is very different to the one in the report.  Thankfully, there were some good points raised.  Good relationship between pupils and teachers.  Teachers and Pupils having pride for their school and pupils enjoying school and feeling safe and important there.  That to me is one of the most important things about a primary school and I’m glad they picked up on it.

 So, what am I doing about this report?  Absolutely nothing.  I’m not embarrassed about it but I’m glad things have been pointed out and improved and I will fully support the school in improving its results.  My daughter is happy and loves school and I wouldn’t for a second pull her out of this sort of environment.

 So you can take your head tilt and condescending words and shove off!  

 

The Generation that grew up with “Friends”

I don’t know if it’s just me, but I feel like we are a little bit of the lucky generation.  Not lucky in that we have more money or more opportunity, but that we are considered in society and marketing, that we are a force to be reckoned with.  Don’t mess with those 40 year olds!  Bear with me, I have a few examples.

Take fashion.

My mum was 35 when I was born, so by the time I realised what she was wearing she was in her 40′s and 50′s and wearing REALLY mumsy clothes.  This was the 80′s and when she wasn’t wearing her “house coat” she was wearing stretchy leggings with open toe sandals and stretchy t-shirts.  When she went out, she would wear a knee-length A line skirt of some sort, a very old long-sleeved blouse and boring brown court shoes.  To me as a teenager she looked such a mummy. Soooooo embarrassing.  So old-fashioned.  Mums weren’t expected to be wearing the latest trends.  That was for the 20 year olds.

Then it got me thinking.  Where did she go for her fashion advice?  No internet, no bloggers.  Movie stars were glamorous but their styles were often out of reach to ordinary women.  Her magazines were Woman’s Weekly, Woman’s Own.  Jeez, no wonder she had no inspiration.

On the other hand we’re  the target audience for magazine companies.  In fact I think we are referred to as “Middle Youth”. As a teen I grew up on English “Girl” magazine, then the Australian title “Dolly” and then dabbled in Cosmopolitan and Vogue. All of them perfect for me.  As I got older I wondered if there would be magazines to cater for me or whether I would have to be old before my time, take my magazine out of my pinny and read about how to make my weekly grocery money stretch further.  Thankfully by the time I got to my late 20′s RED magazine had appeared on the scene and contains everything I could possibly want for the complex 30-50 year old.  We all have very similar likes and dislikes but we have a lot of varying lifestyles and Red Magazine caters for that.

Fashion, Latest Trends, money, cooking, articles on relationships, sex, dealing with emotional issues, raising children or just how to start your own business.  Perfect.

So how are we represented out there?

We are the “Friends” Generation.  We had a whole show dedicated to being in your late 20′s and early 30′s.  From the age of around 24 there were people just like me having conversations just like me on tv.   We got to see them grow up, have babies, deal with death, self-esteem, family problems and relationships.  I don’t know about you, but I think you can pretty much live your life by episodes of that tv series.  As they got older, I did too, they were still good looking, had good hair, made mistakes and I loved that I was growing up with them all.

Then around 1998 whilst I was in my late 20′s Sex and the City started.  I started watching properly in my 30′s.  These were 30 something women who did glamorous things, negotiated men, love, sex and friendships.  This followed on through to their 40′s (Samantha was in her 40′s at the start of the series) and I was there, watching this gorgeous creatures who still “had it” despite being older.

Not forgetting that in the UK, we also had the delight of “Cold Feet”.  A later 20′s early 30′s series, again, with the trials and tribulations of relationships, marriages and children. These people hadn’t been chucked in the dustbin for being married, having kids or getting old. They were out there, living their lives, enjoying life. A whole series was written about them!

We must be a pretty important generation that we spawned all of these shows.  I can’t think of one that did that back when my mum was in her 30′s.  The Good life?  Hardly aspirational. (great show though, I should add).

When I was 30, 30 was the new 20.  Now 40 is the new 30.  We’ve all gained 10 years.  HOORAY.

Although seriously, I feel quite buoyant about all of this.  Our generation appears to be pushing things through. TV shows, fashion for the 40 year olds (see Emma Forbes new Saluting Style venture) and it keeps happening.  Clothing companies are opening up aimed at our age range and why not?  We still want to look fab AND we have the money to spend. Win win for everyone involved.

Some of us 40 year olds have kids and we quite fancy a bit of cake making Voila! They create “Great British Bake Off”.

I quite fancy going back to basics you know, perhaps a bit of sewing. Voila “Great Sewing Bee”.

Be nice to learn to love our wobbly bodies, wouldn’t it?  Take pride in our mummy tummy’s. Voila “How to look good Naked”.  It’s all for us you know.  They are pushing it all for us.

By the time I get into my 50′s (the new 40) We’ll be reading about how to change careers whilst still managing to meet up with the girls.  Our 60′s?  Pah. No problem. They’ll be a mag for us, giving us tips on how walk the red carpet without our corns or bunions causing us any pain.  How to wear our grey hair with pride, which Cath Kidston pillowcase fits a orthepeadic pillow. Care homes will be setup and run by fit, healthy older people who are working later because they need to top up their pension pots, but ensure we are taken care of in a manner that suits us.  New policies will be in place to ensure we get to do more of what we want.  Old people will be the biggest demographic. By the time I’m in my 80′s, the over 65′s will account for nearly 30% of the population.  Don’t piss the oldies off — they are your biggest customers.

We’ll be ok.  I have a good feeling about this.