Turning Thirty

Last week my odometer rolled over. No, not in the car — my own personal odometer. I hit the big Three-O. Thirty years old. I'm not in my 20s any more. I'm not a kid any more. Thus begins the slow slide toward middle age. And so on and so forth and all the other cliches about turning thirty.

The thing is, being thirty doesn't seem so bad. Sure, a few years ago 30 looked like this big, scary milestone looming in the future, but now that I'm here it's not the least bit scary at all. Thirty is just a number. I know that's another cliche, but, well, thirty is just a number. Sure, I'm no longer twenty-something, but it's not like entering a new decade is going to change my lifestyle. I've been married since I was 27, I've only started two new jobs in the last decade, my wife and I have a nice apartment and we typically see our friends two or three times a week. Turning another year older is not going to change any of that.

So, I'm not a kid any more. That depends on how you define being a kid. If you are talking typical college student behaviour, then I haven't been a kid in a long while, since for years I've had the typical mature adult disdain for classic "college kid" drunkeness and debauchery. But if being a kid means being able to have fun, enjoy life, and find the simple joys that make every day special, then I'm still going to be a kid when I'm old and grey.

As far as slow slide toward middle age, well, middle age has always been somewhat ill-defined. Conventiional wisdom says it might start at 35 or 40, and run to around age 60. A more practical approach might be that middle age starts when you get married, buy a house, have kids, and generally settle down. Of course, I have friends that did that when they were 23, and I don't think anyone considered calling them middle aged at the time.

Of course, I have been married for a couple years now, and if you've been to the blog or the baby pool, you know that my wife is expecting our first child in a matter of weeks. And while we're not yet homeowners, we did go to an open house on Sunday. Oh, and I do have RRSPs (for American readers, that's kinda like a 401k). So I have to admit that I'm definitely on that slow slide into middle age. I'm just not sure how far down the slide I am exactly.

So turning thirty really isn't a problem. Sure, it's another year older, but I'm not about to let it get me down. I'm not going to look back on the last decade with regret and look forward to the next decade with dread. Besides, I figure that with a baby due to arrive before month end, if I can survive to Christmas I can handle the next ten years.

I suppose I do have one regret, though. I wish I could find the editorial I wrote for the student newspaper when I turned twenty. I'd like to compare what I wrote then with what I've written now. But it's been a decade, and I've completely forgotten what I wrote back then. Perhaps my memory is not quite what it used to be.

And perhaps I'm a little farther down that slide than I'd like to admit.