The Big Five-Oh.

I was rather hoping to slide into obscurity this week, as the auspicious occasion of my 50th birthday loomed - on a Thursday no less ! - but my husband had other ideas and has been littering Facebook with pictures from my past - and none of them flattering, so it has been difficult, if not impossible to escape reality.  He will pay dearly for this betrayal. 

This has provided me with an opportunity to reflect and look back on the past half century - ugh. I would like to say I have learned a lot, but anybody who reads my blog knows that isn't true.

Thirty five years ago, I had but one aim and that was to join the Royal Navy as a Communications Officer. I was going to travel the world, marriage and children were the furthest thing from my mind.  I had worked hard towards that goal, taking several courses at different naval bases in the UK, competing in the brutal Ten Tors challenge on Dartmoor and even suffered the pain and indignity of having my front tooth knocked out by the muzzle of a rifle on a particularly hazardous exercise. I didn't fare much better on water, I couldn't swim (still can't)  which was a particular impediment when we went sailing, especially before life jackets became mandatory. I still recall one spectacular evening in Portsmouth Harbour, where I sailed our four person dinghy right into the side of the Royal Yacht. It was strongly suggested that I not return.

I'm not sure how or when I made the decision to put the Naval career on the back burner and emigrate to Canada as a nanny. I didn't even like children, and some days I still don't. I had first met Rob at the age of fourteen when I was here on vacation, but I was nineteen before I took up with him again and we were married two years later.  Those two intervening years I spent as a nanny. Over 800 days of indentured servitude, an experience I intended never to repeat. One family I lived with was particular violent, and I escaped each weekend to spend two days at my sister's house, dreading each Sunday evening when I had to return. It was several years before I could relax on a Sunday night, without that sinking feeling of apprehension for the next day. Unfortunately I was at the whim of Immigration, and to leave my employment - regardless of the circumstances - would earn me a one way ticket back to England. I can still remember the euphoria when I walked away from the house for the last time. I would never allow myself to be in that position now, but I was much younger then, and with age comes, maybe not wisdom, but certainly a better sense of self preservation. 

So here I am now. I swapped my dreams of becoming a Naval Officer for a career in Human Resources followed by motherhood. Probably a better choice, on account of that not being to swim thing. After thirty years, I still miss England, there is a part of me that would like to go back, but I know I made the right choice to stay here, and on Thursday when I'm fighting with Sid to put on her shoes, and cleaning up cat barf, I will take a moment to congratulate myself for surviving fifty years.