This Reminds Me

Archive for May 2nd, 2008

Last night at Costco, Julia skated up as I was grazing on cheese samples and reached for a bite’o'brie.  The sample matron frowned and said, “Not without your mom saying it’s okay.”  Julia looked at me – I turned to the matron, raised my hand and said, “That would be me.  It’s fine.”  Julia grabbed her snack and pushed off on her Heelys, leaving a surprised matron staring at me with eyebrows raised.

After all……how could such a cute little skater girl belong to an old, gray hag like me?

Julia was home less than a week when we went to the pediatrician for a check-up.  A friendly mom in the waiting room asked me, “Are you her grandmother?”  Ummmm…no.  When Keith and I took her to ER last fall, the nurse asked, “Are you mom or grandma?”

Sigh.

Not having Rachel until I was 35, I was used to being the only first grade mom who had trouble getting up from the tiny chairs in the classroom.   But now I have AARP offers being delivered with Nick, Jr. magazine.

Baby Rachel’s first picture, almost 17 years ago.  Yeah, we looked younger!  But as Indiana Jones said, “It’s not the years.  It’s the mileage.”

I suppose I should feel badly about having an 8-year-old at age 52.   Embarrased maybe.  I could dye my hair.  Lose 50 lbs. for that new, hip wardrobe.  Run to the plastic surgeon in my sports car.  Watch endless episodes of “Desperate Housewives.”  Try to make myself look 30.  Or even 40.

But I don’t feel badly.  And I’m not embarrassed.  I just am what I am.

I have a good virtual friend from the user boards (Votemom) who also has a 44-year age difference between herself and her two two-year-olds from Russia.  She also has three bio teenagers.  I know she gets as tired as I do.  Sometimes people think she’s crazy, like they do me.  And maybe we are.  But we agreed:  You’re going to be doing something. I mean, your whole life, you’re going to be doing something.

You might as well do something that matters.

So offer me a hand when my joints are creaking after squatting in the school hallway to admire a mural.   When you see my gray hair, know that many of them popped up while we fretted about court dates and getting 10 days waived and leaving three kiddos back home.  Don’t smirk at my reading glasses – they help me admire those beautiful works of art on our fridge.  And know that sometimes, when I’m rocking Julia, I fall asleep, too.

Because I have to be doing something. And to me – those things matter.