What happens to your mother when she turns 60...

Yesterday (9^th August) was not only Women’s Day, it was also my mom’s birthday. Not just any birthday, it was her 60^th. You would expect someone who is just about to turn 60 to be slowing down. You wouldn’t think that they would be very active anymore. By active I mean dancing, drinking (like a fish) and then still able to wake up at the crack of dawn and function like a normal human being the next day with no signs of a hangover.

Well that’s what I expected. I was terribly mistaken. My mother has impressed me to the point where I feel like I’m the one who should be 60. Perhaps there was a body swap somewhere along the line.

Let me go back a couple days. On Friday we went out for Chris’s birthday. Like I do, I was dancing, drinking, dancing, drinking and at 02:30 I had enough. That was me- done! A couple of hours of fun and I was ready for bed. As much as I hate to admit it (at the age of 24- nearly) I cannot handle two nights in a row anymore- sad story, I know.

However on Sunday afternoon my mother’s friend of many years arrived from Cape Town to join my mother for her birthday party that we were having on the 9^th (Monday.) As they have done for many years, the two of them cracked open a few bottles of champagne and wine and proceeded to drink into the night- not forgetting that we need to wake up early, set up and cook the next morning to get everything ready for my mom’s 60^th birthday party. I (being the loser I am) went to bed early whilst they were still up. If there is one thing I hate, it is being tired the next day while having important things to do.

At 07:30 the next morning I wake up to the sounds of pots, pans, excited voices and dogs barking. My mother is already up, getting everything ready. I ask you, with tears in my bonnie blues, how the woman (now 60) is able to function like that with the amount of alcohol she consumed the night before.

We all spend the morning setting up. The juke box arrives, the alcohol and food is all set out, the balloons are blown up and hung (what a mission- best way to get blisters) and we all get ready to have a party.

Needless to say my mother and all the guests spend the day drinking (starting to sound like my mother is an alcoholic- she isn’t, I promise) and dancing to music through the ages. I remained sober so that I could clean, wash dishes and make sure everyone had what they needed (never again!)

By 20:00 I was exhausted. My feet were so sore I had to soak them in a bath. While I was doing that, guess where my parents and their friends were? Still drinking and reminiscing about the good old days as they listened to the lyrics of some of their favorite music. I brave the night and decide to join the party.

You know your father is drunk when you have a conversation with him that is as follows:

Dad: Whaat you dwrinking there Lexyy?

Lexy: Its Fanta Orange

Dad: But why yoou dwrinking Cane?

Lexy: It’s Fanta dad, not Cane

Dad: Yees, buut why soo much Cane?

Lexy: Its Fanta

To bed I went, too tired to argue with my drunk father (as much as I do love him- he can be the most frustrating person to talk to when he is drunk.)

I have learnt something about age. It’s not the number that defines you, it’s the determination to live life, have fun and do as many things as possible, while you still can.

At the age of 60, my mother inspires me more than she ever has before. It’s not just her drinking, dancing and social side that I am inspired by, but her determination and passion. I only hope to be that much fun when I am 60.

Love you mom!