Growing up and Growing Old

Last week saw the 40th birthday of my 'little' brother. My 'baby' brother still has a couple of years to go before hitting this milestone, by which point I shall be 44 and apparently officially middle-aged. Other people getting older always seems to take us by surprise which is a bit strange as time marches on for all of us at the same pace. I am constantly amazed that the toddlers I baby-sat for in my 20s are passing driving tests, going to University and even having children of their own. I can recall the look of bemused acceptance on my parents' faces at my own 40th birthday celebrations as they took in the fact that their 'little rag doll' (apparently that's what I looked like as I emerged into the world) was now entering her 5th decade. At least I have had the decency to remain petite. Looking at a strapping 6 foot 5 rugby player and thinking 'that was my baby once' must be quite disconcerting. Both my parents do little things which point to the fact that they can't get over the reality that my siblings and I are no longer 4, 6 and 8. When crossing the road with my dad he will always put his hand out in a protective gesture just in case I am taken by a sudden urge to run in front of a passing car. My mum still reads menus out loud to us if we are eating out as a family even though we are all reasonably literate.
Age is an odd thing, and the older I get the more I subscribe to the school of thought that it is 'just a number'. I have lived independently for 20 years, had what most would consider a responsible job for 18 years, got married and had a child. However, I still can't shake off the feeling that I am somehow 'pretending', a bit like playing 'Mummies and Daddies'. You see, I really don't feel any different from when I was in my late teens. I keep wondering if other people of my age feel the same way and whether I'll wake up one day and finally feel that I have made it and become a bona fide, fully fledged grown up. I don't know, so for the time being I shall continue living as a teenager in an adult's skin.

Hard of Hearing

I appear to be following in some well-worn, pre-destined genetic paths by beginning to lose my hearing quite significantly in my 30s. Not wanting to be too predictable though, I have decided to lose only my middle frequency tones, i.e. the most useful ones, as they include speech. I have also made sure that I have one of the most ridiculous jobs for the hard of hearing, namely teaching, and languages teaching at that! My other career choice would have been Speech Therapy. Oh, the irony. Perhaps I should just give up and become a mime artist?
When I spoke to my boss about my affliction he was very sympathetic and understanding, saying that the school would pay for any 'reasonable adjustment' to help me and going on to suggest that I should have all the noisy classes so I would be able to hear them. Thanks, but I felt that the department's money would be better spent on a regular supply of 'Sancerre' to help me come to terms with my disability. I'm still waiting for that one!
My pupils have their own unique way of 'helping' me too. Their logic dictates that as I can't hear middle tones, then if they speak in a high pitched squeak or a bass-baritone growl then I should be able to understand them. Doesn't work but does make me laugh.
So, no doubt I shall be spending many more happy hours waiting in the audiology department at my local hospital. It's hilarious. They can't pronounce my name properly (being a bit Welsh and all that) and I can't hear it anyway! I am one of the few people in the country actually looking forward to growing old and losing their high frequency tones. At least then I'll be eligible for hearing aids!