I was ready to make an appointment for Tyson to go and see Doc Pillay. He has had a hoarse, funny sounding voice for a while now. And then it hit me. He’s thirteen. His voice is changing. I got a lump in my throat when I realized that puberty, not a nasty bug, was the cause of my “baby’s” new vocal range. Oh my. It made me feel old. And that is when I realized that the lovely “natural highlights” my hairdresser has been raving about are really evidence that my hair is turning colour. Yes, I am going grey. Well actually, I think I am going white. Which I think is a little nicer than going grey. How’s that for finding the silver lining. (Silver lining. Get it?!)

So here I am in the midst of my mid-life crisis. I can almost look my eldest son eyeball to eyeball. I think he is adding height every day. My hair is changing colour. And that expensive eye wrinkle cream I bought is having a hard time keeping up with those crow’s feet I keep producing. My crow’s feet, I am afraid, are quickly morphing into (gasp) actual wrinkles. And where did that extra skin on my neck come from? So sad.