From the Archives: Aging Gracefully

I've decided to stick a new little series in here. These are older blog entries that have never seen sunlight on my blog. Should be fun.

(2007)

Listening To: You Shook Me All Night Long – AC/DC

Mood: Relaxed – There isn’t anything a nice hot shower can’t fix.

I usually do my best thinking in the shower. There’s just something about a locked door, steaming hot water, and coconut lime shampoo that gets my creative thoughts rolling. Perhaps it’s just the fact that shower time is the ONLY time I get all day that I have some semblance of quiet and a conspicuous absence of my children and spouse in which I’m not passed out sleeping. My intelligent thoughts have to escape at some point. It helps when they don’t have to compete with Dora on TV or nursing my ever hungry infant, or fetching some tea for my husband. Usually any intelligent thoughts (including some brilliant, earth shattering shower ideas) disappear the minute I step out of the bathroom and simultaneously hear “Mommy!, Waaaa! Honey?!” from the needy beings that I share a household with as they realize I am now available to wait upon them once again.

Today, my thoughts headed in the direction of the ever looming existential problem of getting older/turning into my mother.  Up until now, I have been able to delude myself into thinking that I am still a teen aged type gal. Up until very recently, the hubby and I only had 1 child and were decently mobile.  You can still be young and married, even with 1 kid. This was working perfectly until I caught myself telling hubby that I needed him to watch the kids. Whoa. Hello, this is reality calling….. I am firmly a 20 something with kids.  Next thing you know, I’ll be driving a minivan. Hubby mentioned this as a possibility for our next car and I told him that which shall not be mentioned had better not ever be mentioned again, lest I hurl something heavy at him. Or make him drive it – his choice.

This brings me to another pondering I had. Why is it that I always refer to my daughters as “the kids”? When we visit my sister in law, all the girls are referred to just as “the girls”, even if we’re just talking about her kids. Why do I refer to my own as “the kids”?  They’re also girls.  Perhaps it’s because my youngest daughter has the personality of a sloth (Come on, she’s 1 month old)  and it’s kind of hard to identify them as girls with personalities. Lord knows my elder daughter has enough for both of them.  Heaven help my hubby and his brother in law. With this herd of girls running around (including myself and my sister in law) they may just get trampled. J

So while I’m investigating my 26^th birthday occurring without prior authorization last September, I think I’ll enjoy being 26. After all, I may miss being young and 19, but I sure enjoy being older and more confident. On top of that, I’m going for the whole milf thing. Younger milfs are always better.

On that note, have a nice week.

Becky