How do you know when you’re too old for something? I mean, just because I’m fortyish doesn’t mean I don’t still like the things I liked when I was younger. I blogged before about my obsession with Steven Tyler feathers for my hair. Is it appropriate for a fortyish mother of three to have Steven Tyler feathers in her hair?
Doesn’t really matter – I’m over the feathers now anyway. I read an article about them and they talked about the different birds the feathers came from and it kinda grossed me out. But, here’s something I really need to have in my hair – I first admired them on Adrienne on Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, and now my friend Katie has them and even though I have yet to see them in her hair, I know that I have got to get bling strings in my hair!
But, am I too old? I don’t feel too old! I feel like I need bling strings! Of course I would get them to match my hair color – no blue or red for me. But, as I wrote this blog post, I did a Google Image search so I could insert a photo for you to see, in case you weren’t familiar with bling strings. Turns out, most of the photos are of children, celebrities or hookers. Hmmm….
Maybe that’s how you know when you’re too old.
I was folding clothes tonight and I came across my son’s hole-in-the-knee jeans. He wanted to wear them the other day to school and I told him he couldn’t wear ripped pants to school, but they were great for playing outside. He was not happy about it, but he took them off and wore something else. I took the ripped jeans and put them behind some towels in a closet. I wanted to decide when he could and couldn’t wear them. Low and behold he had those damn things on the next day. I said where did you find those jeans and he said he had LOTS of pairs with holes in the knee. I tossed up my hands like “you got me”! HA! But then I stopped to think…I never had a six year old SON before. This must be one of those stages that they go through. Just like not pronouncing R’s and asking “WHY” all the time. I just had to deal with it.
But tonight as I came across yet another pair of hole-in-the-knee jeans I suddenly had pangs in my heart and a lump in my throat thinking about how much I will miss those ‘hole-y’ pants someday. I will wish for those six year old days when all he wanted to do was play outside and rough house with the dog, throw a ball or just run around. These are the moments that catch us and stop us in our tracks to realize that this time with our children is not ever-lasting. In actuality, it is a very short time we have with them. How much do I really care about a ripped hole in the knee? If I was old school I would put a patch on it and they would be like new, but I am not old school and I don’t sew.
So today, when my six year old came down the stairs dressed for school in yet another pair of ripped hole in the knee jeans, I let it go….
I want to savor this stage before it is gone and I never see a ripped knee again. I know this is melodramatic, but all you moms out there know exactly what I’m talking about. Take this stage or any other and it translates to the same thing. Time moves us on and we need to do our best to live and breathe right now.
Due to scheduling conflicts, my ENTIRE family left at 7 this morning. For the day. How about that for a little “me” time?
It was unexpected, so I haven’t quite mapped out my day, but here’s a rough draft of how I think it will go:
Let dog out
Let dog in (it’s raining)
Empty full sink into dishwasher
Run said dishwasher
Throw another load of laundry in
Fold the 2 loads already on the couch
And, wait for it…
Take a shower!
By then it’ll be about 8:30 and I’ll be running late (again) to pick my mother up for her doctor’s appointment in the city. After the appointment, I’ll drop her off, politely say, “no thank you” to a lovely lunch out and speed hurry back home to pick the little guy up from school, make his lunch and head off to work for 2 hours before speeding hurrying back for the bus and then starting from “let dog out” all over again.
Now, if this isn’t the “me” time I’ve been craving, I don’t know what is.