Middle Age
Do not fret dear readers: this is not a poem about the breakdown of collagen or deep tissue wrinkles (mostly because I couldn't think of anything that rhymed with either of those). This is about the year you turned old according to definitive musical test in the Chicago Tribune (via How Not to Act Old).
As expected, I was loving life and living young until the year my son was born - then, I hit a wall. I have no idea what "Roll With It" by Steve Winwood sounds like. Luckily I regained my youth (and vitality, if you can call it that given the song) the following year with "Right Here Waiting" by Richard Marx.
Oddly, the years surrounding my second child's birth leave me staring blankly at the list. Huh? But the year between those two, the year she was born, in fact the very moments in which she was born, her deliverer (aka: my surgeon) and I were discussing how his wife loved UB40 (Pay attention in there, Doc! I may need that gigantic purple organ in the future!).
Then sadly, in 2001, I officially turned old at age 36.
Oh well. It wasn't a bad run. On the bright side, now I can sing all the words to all the songs on the oldies station impressing my daughters no end since I can't remember what they told me yesterday morning.
As expected, I was loving life and living young until the year my son was born - then, I hit a wall. I have no idea what "Roll With It" by Steve Winwood sounds like. Luckily I regained my youth (and vitality, if you can call it that given the song) the following year with "Right Here Waiting" by Richard Marx.
Oddly, the years surrounding my second child's birth leave me staring blankly at the list. Huh? But the year between those two, the year she was born, in fact the very moments in which she was born, her deliverer (aka: my surgeon) and I were discussing how his wife loved UB40 (Pay attention in there, Doc! I may need that gigantic purple organ in the future!).
Then sadly, in 2001, I officially turned old at age 36.
Oh well. It wasn't a bad run. On the bright side, now I can sing all the words to all the songs on the oldies station impressing my daughters no end since I can't remember what they told me yesterday morning.
Comments
Oh my God! It's Jess from Gilmore Girls! What's with the ponytail and tats, and more importantly, why doesn't it disgust me more?