Friday, January 2, 2009

...kicked her husband out of bed.

Not something I am prone to on chilly winter mornings when we have the day off, but he had a doctor's appointment at 9 and it was 8:30. I was finally able to get him to make an appointment for a physical, which was a feat in and of itself. We realized it had been more than 7 years - and that's too long. All good news, except for one interesting statement - Well, Kevin, things look great except for your blood. It resembles pudding. I'm not sure, but this seems like not so much great. Apparently, we have a we bit of a cholesterol issue but will be fine when Momma quits tossing half a stick of butter in everything I put on the table. Mmmmmm, butter.

So, he tells me this and I am immediately struck with the feeling that time really does march on. We were talking in the car the other day on our way back from OBX about how we don't feel as old as our parents seemed to us when we were young. Making plans for New Years, handling bills, cleaning house, going to work, telling off-color jokes. When my mom was my age, she seemed so mature, so with-it, so clever and cosmopolitan, like she could handle anything. And now, I'm her. It was so strange to think that my kids look at me the way I looked at my mom - this force that would make it OK. Of course, it also means that I'm as old as I thought my mom was - another realization I don't think through regularly.

But it is getting to be that time. To begin thinking of ourselves as not as bulletproof as we once did. We don't have to feel all our years, but we do need to be respectful of those gone by. Odd to think about growing up still. Things just always seem to happen, and you deal with them. But each event puts a bit more experience in your basket, something else to draw on, another layer to your onion.

I'm encouraged to think that I've gotten to a place where I'm comfortable being what my parents were to me -without actually knowing it. And I won't think about it all the time, but it will be a good feeling when it comes up on me. If I could only figure out how to feel the same way about 'I can't believe it's not butter'...

I got up today and was thankful for down comforters, Starbucks 3 blocks away, heated seats, big sweaters that hide the muffin top born of one size too teeny jeans, 90 days, Amelia's entirely too grown up mannerisms, and of course, the love of my life, Kev - the cholesterol king.

PS - tomorrow there will be more re: the 90 days thing. It was trumped by the blood work.

1 comment:

  1. I think about this a lot. How we are the older people who were our parents. When I graduated h.s., my mother was 38. A year younger than I am now. All those kids whose parents were having heart attacks at 40 - OMG, Sarah 40! It's so amazing.

    And I swear, I feel as young and immature as Hannah Montana.