A friend of mine reckons you know when you are getting old when you sit in a rocking chair and can't get it going! Well, I'm not that bad yet. Having reached the age at which life is supposed to begin though, I am, frankly, unimpressed with my reincarnation to date. It's not that I feel any different. I haven't gained any more grey hairs or wrinkles and I still sleep with my teeth. I have had no sudden urges to buy a twin set and pearls and I haven't yet started to begin sentences with, "Nowadays.."
My problem is coming from the outside. Not a week had passed since we celebrated my birthday and there was a knock at the door. One of the other mothers (for the life of me I couldn't remember which child she belonged to!) stood before me with an envelope in her hand. Touched I was, thinking she had perhaps popped by with a belated greetings card. Giving her my best "oh you really shouldn't have" smile and about to invite her in for a cuppa, I was brought up short. Another glance at the would-be card and I spotted a picture of a plastic container with a well fitting lid.
Oh no, please no!"Frau Nowak, how are you? We were wondering if you would be interested in joining us for our next Tupperware party"
The problem is German humour, for what it's worth, doesn't seem to accommodate the combination of indignation and sarcasm that followed that polite enquiry. Apparently, "I'd rather travel through The Seventh Circle of Hell" was not the correct answer. Nor was, "Not as long as I am still in possession of a pair of thigh length boots!"
The whole scene blew up a bigger issue though. I'm not, as you may have gathered, a Tupperware, candle, jewelry or sex toy party type of girl. The question is, is my finding such get-togethers repellent seen as aloofness and therefore have an adverse effect on Finje's social calendar? In my aging head I'm imagining these mothers, clutching their resealable cereal box, muttering that they shouldn't invite Finje to little Helmut's next birthday party because her mother is a misanthropist!
I love my daughter and I would even throw away those boots for her if it would make her happy. But go to a Tupperware party?
Not as long as I can still remember what I had for my breakfast.
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