My Thoughts on Getting Old…

You know, I would love to pretend that dementia has already set in so that I can sail through the process of growing old with a smile on my face; but , that is not the case–at least, not today anyway. Today, I remember every ache in my legs, every gray hair that is screaming “look at me!” as it shows through my highlights, every pop of my joints as I bend down to retrieve something.

There are times when growing old is comical, really. I may as well laugh–fewer wrinkle lines, right? Ok, I think that longed for dementia has set in because I cannot think of one supporting detail to justify that topic sentence. Hmm…

Ok, so growing old is not comical.  It is frustrating. Part of me just wants the entire process to be done. To be at that point in life when I don’t care what color my hair is; when I don’t care if my legs are covered with billions of tiny spider veins (I have always hated spiders);when I don’t care if the lines around my eyes and all over my face resemble a road map; when I don’t care if the skin on my belly and other strategic places sags and looks like wrinkled prunes left in the sun too long.

Sometimes I look at older women, ok older than me, and am in awe at the way they seem to  have accepted their fates. They still dress with style. They lead fulfilling lives. They contribute meaningfully to their communities. And, I wonder if it really bothers them that they are older. 

Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe you get to that point when you accept that you are older–and IT DOESN”T MATTER! That is what I am waiting for. That moment when I look at myself and think, “It doesn’t matter. You are wonderful the way you are.” All those things that I have worried about and have obsessed about will just disappear. POOF! I will no longer feel the need to fight the process;it will already have happened.

What a relief that will be!

 

My Feet Hurt!

My feet hurt. They hurt all day yesterday at work. They hurt lying in bed as I stretched and tried to ease the tension. They hurt this morning as I crawled out of bed.

I knew all night which shoes I would wear–my Borne flats.They feel like heaven on my feet. And, they are cute. So cute that even though they match almost nothing I have in my wardrobe, I bought them anyway. So, this morning I threw one of the few outfits that match anticipating the feel of those on my tired feet all day. I sighed at the pleasure of it.

My sigh turned into a groan of disbelief as I looked in my closet. My shoes were not there. I scrambled to my knees, pulled out every pair of shoes I owned. No Bornes.

Disbelief turned to frustration. I hurried through the house, looking in every spot I usually leave my shoes–by the front door, behind the chair, in the corners of my bedroom. No Bornes.

Now in panick mode, I raced back to my closet, scrambled to my knees, and searched once again for those shoes, thinking that if I did this again, that maybe, just maybe they might magically appear. Still, no Bornes.

Looking at the shoes surrounding me, I tried to deny the hard, cold facts;I was going to have to wear a pair of shoes with heels. Low heels. High heels. They all made my feet hurt, my legs hurt, my entire body ached at the thought. Acceptance came slowly. I slipped on a pair of shoes with low heels.

My feet hurt.

Lessons Learned

“Hey Mom, that you check you wrote me for gas was made out to me, not the gas station.” Victoria stated over the phone. 

 

“Oh,” I said, realizing my mistake. “What are you going to do?”

 

“I don’t know, Mom.” she replied panic creeping into her voice. “I will be late to work.” Victoria just recently started this job, so I wanted her to succeed. “Well, call your Dad,” I said, “He is only five minutes away. He can meet you at the gas station and pay for your gas.”

 

“I don’t have time!” Victoria yelled into the phone. “I have another idea. Bye.”

 

Being at work, there was nothing I could do to help her. I felt bad that I had written the check out to her by mistake. But, in the end, I knew that this was really her problem and that she needed to solve it. And she would if I let her. So, I hung up the phone and went back to work.

 

Awhile later, she called again. “Mom, I just wanted to apologize for being rude. I was worried and upset. I took care of the problem. The Shell station let me write a check, and I made it to work on time. Joe (her boyfriend) told me a shortcut when I called him.”

 

At that point, I realized that she had learned an important lesson. And, being the Mom that I am I could not resist telling her a lesson I had learned a long time ago:fill up the tank the night before when time is not an issue. Even though Victoria is almost twenty-two years old, there are so many lessons she has yet to learn. Unfortunately, many of those lessons will be learned the hard way. But, unless she experiences those tough moments, and unless I allow her to solve them on her own, she will never mature into the successful person I know she can be. 

 

As I am writing this, I chuckle because I have learned a lesson myself: let go, and let Victoria lead her life. She is capable when given the opportunity. Oh, so hard to do.

Windy Thoughts

 

 

It was so wonderful feeling the wind blowing through the car on the ride home from work yesterday. The sun was shining. The wind had that clean smell of spring. It wasn’t too cold or too hot–perfect. 

 

This morning I heard on the radio that another tornado touched down in Indiana yesterday. It left ten more people dead.

 

It started me wondering about the awesome power of wind. How can it be that one person in one part of the state enjoyed the feel of it and the smell of it while in another part of the state, other people were terrified of it, devastated by it?

 

 

Heaven Sent

You know life is crazy when the Roto-Rooter man comes to your house, lays the plunger in your bathroom sink, and it’s still sitting there three days later.

That was my life last week. You know the kind of week I am talking about. The kind where you can’t breathe–there is no time. The kind where every step you take toward completing one task leads straight to another. The kind where you run and run and run and run down is how you feel. Because you are.

Yesterday, life was that way. I knew that when we got home from gymnastics that my night–and the rest of nights in this week-would be spent cleaning my house. My kitchen would have been deemed unhealthy and my house condemned by the State Board of Health if they had seen it. Quite honestly, I’m not sure if the smells permeating my house came from the plunger setting in the bathroom sink, the overly used litter box, the overflowing trashcan, or the piles of dirty dishes laying all over the kitchen counters. 

So, after work…I decided enough was enough. We skipped gymnastics, ran to the grocery store, spent too much money, and drove home. Wondering where I was going to set the bags of groceries, I unlocked the front door. 

I stopped. I could not comprehend what I saw. Like a scene from a movie, I scanned the house. No longer were there piles of trash and dirty dishes and left overs and dirty clothes and blankets and markers and ugly smells attacking my nose. Instead, there were sparkling clean counter tops–no dishes or food or trash in sight. There were only bare floors and furniture and  good smells emanating from the rooms I walked through. 

Still uncomprehending, unbelieving, I spied a note propped against the vase on the kitchen table. It read “Hey Sweet Lovely Lady, I know you have been stressed out lately. Relax. Enjoy.”

As my brain took in the reality of the note and my surroundings, I realized that once again this man in my life has proven that he is Heaven sent.

 

OOOHHHH!!!!

One of my students saw my daughter drinking her juice. He looked at me and said, “I hate drinking orange juice with pulp in it. It’s like drinking juice that has millions of tiny tape worms in it!” 

That says it all.

MARCH!

March. The best month of the year. Why? Because it means that we have made it through February–the worst month of the year. Just knowing that March and all that comes with it–longer days, warmer temperatures (usually), crocuses sprouting up through the ground, and robins hopping along the ground searching for worms. Breathing in that fresh spring air is invigorating. Knowing that in a short time that I will be able to dig in the dirt, planting carrot and lettuce and peas. Following after Livvy as she rides her bike, too quickly, down the street. Yelling at her to “SLOW DOWN” as she nears the stop sign. watching her pick up worms and rolly-polly bugs and delighting in their movements;while my stomach churns at the thought of feeling them crawling on my skin as Livvy asks me if I want to hold them. I am so ready…

It Seems Like Yesterday…but, It Was 21 Years Ago?

Yesterday was my oldest daughter’s birthday. Twenty-one. It does not seem possible.

It seems like yesterday that she came into the world feet first.

It seems like yesterday that she looked at me with those blue eyes and smiled because she knew I was “Mom”.

It seems like yesterday that we sat on the couch and read Marvin K. Mooney, Will You Please Go Now?

It seems like yesterday that she slipped on the floor and cracked her nose.

It seems like yesterday that she peddled her bike without the training wheels for the first time.

It seems like yesterday that she said “I’m running away!”, packed her bags, and walked to the neighbor’s yard because she had no where to go.

It seems like yesterday that she won the DARE essay contest.

It seems like yesterday that she got her braces on and cried.

It seems like yesterday that she ran wild through the fields on Chex, her horse.

It seems like yesterday that we dressed in black and tee-peed Wendy’s house.

It seems like yesterday that she got her first grown-up hair cut.

It seems like yesterday that she hit three deer while driving my Hyundai.

It seems like yesterday that she walked across the stage and received her diploma.

It seems like yesterday that I wondered what kind of a woman she would become.

It was yesterday when I realized what a beautiful woman she has become.

One of Those Mornings…

ZZZZZZHHHHHHHHHHHHH…What is that noise, I thought to myself? It needs to stop. So I walked from room to room turning off all the radios. But that noise just wouldn’t stop.

ZZZZZZHHHHHHHHHHHHH…It seemed to grow louder. So I went around to every room again and turned off every radio again. But the noise wouldn’t stop.

Panicking, I ran from room to room. That noise needs to stop.

But, it grew louder and louder…ZZZZZZHHHHHHHH….In desperation, I began to pull the plugs from the walls as I ran from room to room. But the noise would not stop.

Turning over on my side, I looked at the clock radio.

6:35 a.m.

ZZZZZZZHHHHHHHHH…

Late for work.

Those are the mornings you just know you should roll over and stay in bed.

Chicken Nuggets

Today in class, my students were writing metaphors. One of my girls wrote

He is a hot chicken nugget.

What a great line.