Birthday Blues by Jane Freeman IN <I>Life Begins At...</I> by Robin Knight

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BIRTHDAY BLUES.
By JANE FREEMAN

When you're grown-up, notching up another year is cause for celebration.

There's something a little dreary about having a birthday when you're a grown-up. It's not that you don't get great pressies - you probably do, especially if people give you all the stuff you asked them to give you. And it's not that family and friends don't ring you up and sing that repetitive birthday song, droning on diligently to the end even when you've all reached the point when you're embarrassed by the whole idea. And it's not even that you don't have a pleasant sort of day. In fact, you probably have a fine time because you're sitting at work feeling so sorry for yourself for having to work on your birthday that you reward yourself with an extra long lunch hour and a few chocolate bars every hour or so.

But despite all the attention, fuss and worldly goods, the average grown-up birthday is still dreary. It has a sad, Boxing Day kind of feel to it, all punctured expectation and the faint sizzle of evaporating magic.
The problem is that once you get past the age of 18, birthdays just don't feel as wonderful as they did when you were a kid. You don't feel like you're king of the world any more. Your siblings aren't standing around enviously watching you open parcels and getting the stuff that they really wanted.Your friends don't flock around clutching presents and looking forward to wild and crazy games of pass the parcel

There's no one asking what your favourite food is and then offering to dish it up - even if you insist on tinned spaghetti on toast followed by golden syrup dumplings with custard and whipped cream. And it's hard to get all excited about being another year older when everyone sends you joke cards yabbering on about grey hair and flagging sexual performance.

But what a waste this is, given that you're committed to doing the birthday thing every year to the end anyway. I reckon it's time for adults of the world to unite to bring back the magic. We have to all make a pact to recreate the joys of a childhood birthday.

For example, when you open up your birthday gifts, your family and friends must all stand around looking mcredibly envious, as if they really, really wanted a new vacuum cleaner or that pair of useful summer sandals that your spouse asked you to choose for yourself a week ago.

And talking of spouses, he or she will pledge to treat you like Elvis Presley on your big day - they'll cook you any damn thing you want, no matter how crazy or deep fried it is (and at the same time, the CSIRO must release a wide-ranging new study showihg fat and sugar are actually good for you, so you can enjoy it).

But I guess no matter how hard we all try; birthdays will never be as pleasurable as they were when we were kids, simply because we're not as happy to be one older. This is odd because in fact the older you get, the more of an achievement it is to notch up another one.
Anyone can go from being a two-year-old to three-year-old especially if there is someone else standing around doing all the cooking, cleaning and cajoling. But getting from 58 to 59, while managing your work, kids, grandkids, a new tax system, several stimulating hobbies, retirement planning, electrolysis on your chin and trying to remember where you left the car keys -now that's something to be proud of

Jane Freeman was writing for The Age Sunday Life , December 11th., 2000.

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