Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in Friends...you got what I ne-ed, Mom-ness, Uncategorized | Posted on 08-06-2015
Am I the last to know?
Hey, I thought it was cute when my kids asked me what a phone booth was last year. When my six year old grumbled he had to sit on a booster seat at the salon and I chirped, “Oh come on, you’re lucky you don’t have to sit on phone books!”, he looked at me with the blank stare.
What’s worse than the blank stare? Does anything good come after the blank stare?
“What’s a PHONE BOOK?”
Several years of being called ma’am, not being carded, or worse, being carded, and the woman looking at the ID with disbelief followed up by, “OH, well you have a baseball hat on.”
She took it back! Before I got to fully enjoy the moment. Before the last digit of my four number pin was entered onto the machine thingy at the register. She might as well have screeched over the loudspeaker.
I JUST DIDN’T SEE YOUR WRINKLY OLD FACE UNDER THAT HAT, LAY-DEEEEE!
She was a dope anyway. It’s called context clues, Sherlock. What underage chick would be buying a big banger of Cavit?
The past few years, I’ve started to notice a lot of the teachers looked younger and younger. And the student teachers! Please. They look 12. Do they even know what Hooked on Phonics IS?
I went back to work full time this year, and realized I looked like a legit grown up in meetings. And people I interview have serious credentials….and are way younger than me. Way.
But it’s the 20th reunion coming up that really did it to me.
I realized, I’ve been out of college almost half my life. Some of my best friends from college I’ve known for TWENTY FOUR years. Some of my friends from college have kids in high school. Their kids are taller than we are, with bigger feet! They aren’t babies and toddlers and tiny beings who leave a wake of Cheerios and discarded binkies. (Five second rule!) If they are real, BIG, people then we are real, middle aged grown ups.
So I approach my reunion with mixed feelings. Don’t get me wrong–I could not be more excited to see some of the best friends I know I will ever have in this lifetime. Though hugely separated by geography and the demands of….life….I know we’ll instantly pick up as if we were hanging on our porch having a beer after class. I know what seems like five minutes ago was half my life ago. And that paradox kind of hurts my head.
And so it hit me. If this is middle age, it’s pretty damn good. I didn’t lose that 25 pounds before the reunion. (I mean, I do have like four days left. Don’t be hating on my optimism.) I don’t have a good tan. (Tan fat is NOT better than white fat—we are middle aged and skin cancer is real!) I am going for a pedi though and my toes will sparkle, man!
Most of all I realize that being middle aged is not a curse, but a blessing. There are people who have walked this earth who haven’t had the luxury to live to 41…to watch their hair go grey, to realize the creases on their forehead that they catch themselves looking at… are becoming deeper and more permanent.
I am watching my kids grow and I like what I see. They are imperfect like their parents but have good hearts. Whatever they will be, they will be. And I am excited to see it all shake out.
When you get to be middle aged, you are smart enough to know you’re not smart enough to know everything. You’re old enough to learn to be comfortable in your own skin, pale as hell as it is, as imperfect as it might be. You’re old enough to figure out who and what is important… to you.
No one can tell me I’m too old to do cannonballs off my diving board or play cornhole with my kids. I can drink domestic beer from a can and admit that I still like it. More than fancy wine. I said it. I mean it. I earned that right! If you can’t handle the truth then get off my lawn! I mean, my blog. NO, I kinda do mean my lawn. If you come to my lawn, I will share my domestic beer in can. I will. If you judge me for that, or anything, it’s on you.
No one can dull the sparkle of my can.
So middle age? I’m here for you. Show me what you got!