I don’t feel very grown up, and neither does my house

By
Susannah Hardy
July 9, 2019
I’ve been looking at my house and I have to say, it’s lacking one or two things that I always thought the home of a 50-year-old would have. Photo: undefined

I’m turning 50 this month, which I don’t really mind, it’s just that I don’t feel very grown up. And looking around my house, it doesn’t feel very grown up either.

I always imagined that 50-year-olds were empty nesters, approaching retirement, whereas I have two children in primary school, and am still waiting for my career to take off. And my house is very much the same. Nowhere near its full potential.

I never really had a clear vision of where I would be living as an adult, Tastes have changed so often over the years, as I’ve lived in various places – those early days in a rundown share house, a shiny beachside apartment, an art deco inner-city flat and eventually a family-friendly semi in the suburbs.

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Often when you approach a milestone birthday, you look over your life and take stock, wondering if you’ve achieved what you thought you would. Well, I’ve been looking at my house in much the same way and I have to say, it’s lacking one or two things that I always thought the home of a 50-year-old would have.

We still have about a hundred champagne flutes but only two glasses for white wine and three for red. Photo: Stocksy

One is the pasta maker, the rock star appliance of the late 1980s/early ’90s. Every grown-up I knew had a pasta maker. I just assumed my time would come, and I too could spend hours making fresh pasta, drying it on the airer, only to see it eaten in three minutes flat.

The same could be said for the bread maker and the ice cream maker, none of which I have. But now I’m almost 50, it’s the last thing I want. Maybe other 50-year-olds have more time on their hands but, for me, life is too busy (and too short) to make pasta. Or bread, or ice cream for that matter.

I definitely thought I would have matching crockery. Sets of plates and bowls that all looked like they belonged together.

But nothing matches in our house, rather there’s an odd collection of bits and pieces – items passed down through the family or random purchases such as Moroccan bread and butter plates picked up in Milton.

My husband and I are both rather clumsy so any sets that might once have been complete now all have one or two pieces missing in action. For example, we only have five dinner plates, which restricts the number of dinner party guests. Unless someone is happy to have a Moroccan bread and butter plate.

Of course we could go and get a new set of plates, but I’ve actually become fond of a mismatched look and now I’m nearly 50 I’m going with it, as if it’s intended and not just circumstantial.

Every grown-up I knew had a pasta maker. I just assumed my time would come, and I too could spend hours making fresh pasta and drying it on the airer. Photo: Stocksy

I did also think that a grown-up house should have a fancy silver drinks tray, holding decanters of spirits to serve guests. But you really need a formal lounge for that, not a casual kitchen/living/dining situation with streamlined cabinetry and no fancy dresser.

Maybe when I’m more grown up I’ll get the separate lounge and then we’ll get a drinks tray. But for now the spirits are stashed in our streamlined cabinetry, which suits my more minimal approach to life.

However our current collection of wine glasses is far from satisfactory. We did have complete box sets given to us as wedding presents, but most are now broken (yes, we’re very clumsy).

We still have about a hundred champagne flutes but only two glasses for white wine and three for red. We will definitely invest in some more.

Let’s face it, you can’t serve wine out of champagne flutes at the age of 50, however we think stem-less glasses may be a safer choice.

Looking over these items and many more, I realise that none of them are important any more (except maybe for the wine glasses).

What I always imagined for my 50-year-old self is not what I want today.

Priorities change and expectations soften.

My house might not be perfect, but it makes me happy and it’s exactly where I want to be. And much like me, it’s still taking shape. The best is yet to come.

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