I have always had an adventurous spirit. It got me into a great deal of trouble when I was young. The trouble is, I still think of myself as young but my husband keeps telling me that we are old. Though I refuse to believe him, there are growing signs that indicate he might be on to something.
When you are young if you fall down the stairs (not that that has ever happened to my children who are always under my very careful, watchful eye), you literally bounce right back. Cry for a minute or two, small scratch on your cheek (either end) and you are running to the next thing. I was carrying laundry down the stairs and I fell down one step, whacked my elbow and bruised my leg. It’s been over a year and my elbow still hurts.
The best part of getting hurt as a child was the story that went along with it. The stories get lamer and lamer as you age. I bruised my tailbone because I sat too long. I SAT! My butt hurt almost two years because we drove home from Disney and I sat wrong. There’s a story for ya!
My husband commented the other day how he had a hard time bending over while standing up to get his socks on. What’s up with that? I used to be very flexible. Now I watch the Pilates instructor’s leg circle in ways that mine will never move again. And I must admit, getting socks on while standing hurts my back a bit too. That’s just sad.
I have always played a game with my kids where I chase them, catch them, and throw them on the couch. One day I was chasing my SEVEN YEAR OLD and I realized, “Wow, this kid is pretty fast. I don’t think I can catch him.”
Mind you, I played field hockey for 8 years, running should not be difficult for me. So I switched tactics to trickery. Fanning exhaustion, I lured him closer and then grabbed him quickly. Still the fact remains. I’m slower than a seven year old child. The signs are not looking good.
When I was 7 months pregnant with my fourth child, we were visiting my sister. Her children were around before I was a parent and I poured my energy into making life fun for them. I was “Fun Aunt Kimmy”. I realized on that trip I was quickly become, “Boring Aunt Kimmy Who is Always Pregnant” so I made a conscience effort to be fun. We went to the gym and I pulled the kids around on scooters (quite pathetically I’m sure) and participated in the game of dodge ball. Whatever I did to prove how cool I was, only cause me to pull my very pregnant groin. I spent the rest of the trip lying on the couch with ice on my area. How cool am I?
So I figure, okay, I can’t be as physically cool as I used to be but I can certainly be mentally cool. My nephew has taken on my love of mischief and he is always asking me for ideas. Surely fun Aunt Kimmy can mentor this young protégée with some mischief ideas. Not so much. You see old Aunt Kimmy keeps thinking of the danger, or mess, or police activity that comes with each great idea. So my great ideas are really quite lame (like bring two pillows and force a pillow fight with strangers).
While we are on the subject of thinking, I am also realizing that my brain doesn’t work as well as it used to either. I am a fairly educated person. I rather enjoyed my journey through school. Now the things I remember from college and grad school are limited to things that I have used consistently since then or found hysterical while learning them. So while I remember Walther von der Vogelweide, the traveling troubadour from the Middle Ages, I cannot recall 8th grade math. I had five years of Spanish, but my extensive education has left me only with the knowledge of conjugating verbs (Hablo, hablas, habla. . . ). Such practical things I can pass on to my children.
Now if they are older than 5th grade I say, “Ask your father.” And to their father I say, “Tell the kids I used to be smart.”
So now what? My body doesn’t do what I think it should, my mind, well let’s just say it’s not what it used to be, and my emotions are too worried to think of anything really fun. I guess the definition of fun is the thing that changed. Fun used to mean: adventure, doing something new, meeting fun people. . . Now I am thrilled when I can get into my jammies at dinner time and be in bed by eight. The thought of shopping without kids is about as exciting as my life gets (and that usually happens once a year if I’m lucky). I’m about as lame as they come.
The thing is, it’s a gradual shift so you don’t realize how pathetic you are becoming until you are already there, and there is no going back. I tried surfing on the Ikea carts the other day (it actually is quite fun, even for an old person like me) and I totally embarrassed my 12 year old son. I’ve arrived at the “I’m embarrassing my children when I try to be cool” phase. It’s quite the dilemma.
Now that I have thoroughly depressed myself (and possibly you, if you are as old as I am), there needs to be a silver lining to cheer us up. I need to glean a lesson from my new found awareness that I am no longer cool or young. Here’s what I think it is. I need to enjoy the stage that I am currently in, because there are benefits here as well. My kids are always trying to get to the next year (or even half a year). When you are young there always seems to be something better around the bend. It’s easy to miss the blessings of the present.
The same is true today. I am certain that my body will only decline from here. I will be reminiscing about the good old days when I could still get my socks on while standing; the days when my babies were all under one roof; when I could go for a run with my daughter and try to keep up with her long strides. One day she could be pushing me in a wheelchair (in the very, very, very, far future).
Here are my blessings in this stage of life. Levi is young enough that I can still call him my baby but old enough to not need a nap if I have a busy day. I can use the stroller if I want a place to put my drink but I don’t need a stroller if there is no ramp or elevator. My kids are all young enough to still smother me with kisses but old enough that I sleep through the night and sometimes into the morning. Our problems are still small, manageable ones like forgetting to do homework or peeing on someone else’s lawn (well, relatively small problems). Someday there will be much scarier problems to face. My older children are turning into young adults before my eyes and they are actually quite lovely. We can laugh together and pray together. I am blessed beyond measure.
So I’m not as agile as I once was and my face has a few more lines when I smile. Here’s to being middle aged! To still having enough spring in my step to keep up with my rascals and enough brain power to outwit them if I can’t.
And here’s to youth! If you are reading this and you can still easily bend over and touch your toes, go do something fun (Keep it legal though). If you can’t, try to be in bed by eight.