Aging

Why do we worry about aging? What is it that makes us less than happy with ourselves as we get older? We see the wrinkles, the sagging skin, the gray hairs, and suddenly we feel old. Well, what’s wrong with that?

To me getting older is a sign of becoming wiser. We’ve learned a lot of life lessons that we apply to our lives daily. We even use those lessons to help our children – when they allow us to do so.

It also means we’ve been gifted with another day to pursue a dream or just be with people we love. For every day we’re alive and getting older, someone else has been denied that privilege.

I look at all the times in my life when I could have died for one reason or another and I thank God that I’m here today. I have gray hair, my skin is starting to get saggy in places, and I have wrinkles, but I’m alive. I’m alive to see my son become a man. I’m alive to pursue dreams and find new ones. I’m alive to just enjoy life. I consider myself blessed to have reached middle age and see the possibilities still open to me.

Getting older doesn’t mean life is over or bad, just different. It’s part of life, that’s all. I hope you learn to enjoy it.

Happy New Year 2016

            Happy New Year! I know, New Year’s Day was yesterday, 1 January 2016. However, the new year is full of possibilities. Every New Year, I remember an old “For Better or For Worse,” cartoon in which Elizabeth has just hung up a new calendar. As she stands there looking at it, she thinks, “I love looking at the new calendar. It’s full of unwritten history.” Or words to that effect. I agree with her.

            I look at New Year’s as a chance to find new dreams or make old ones come true. In past years I’ve taken motorcycle classes and passed the test necessary to get an endorsement on my license. Too bad, I’ve come to realize that driving a motorcycle in today’s traffic scares me. I don’t consider my time or money doing all that as wasted. I’d wanted to learn how to drive a motorcycle ever since I first rode one as a child. In the end, regardless of my fear of handling even a small bike in today’s traffic, I made a childhood dream come true.

            A few years ago while checking into places to stay for a vacation in another state, I found a place where you could do one time “blow your own” glass. I’d wanted to learn to blow glass since I first stumbled into a glass blowing shop as a teenager. I did the one and got hooked! I wanted to do it again! Unfortunately, I didn’t know if it was possible to do such things in my town. Well, one day my roommate came home with a paper containing an ad for a glass blowing shop that not only offered one time “blow your own” glass sessions, they also offered private lessons and six week classes! I was thrilled. I called the shop and asked several question before signing up for a six week class. Since then I’ve taken three six week classes, done a one time “blow your own” session, and had a private lesson. During the first six week class, I learned about a school here in my state where you can go and learn more about glass blowing. I’ve looked it up and it’s a pretty intense six week session, but it’s my dream to go there someday. I need to learn more before I’ll be ready, but it gives me a goal to work toward.

            This year, I’m also following another dream. For years I’ve dreamed of writing a book. For the last several months, I’ve been working on a few stories, a couple of which I think I’ve finished. I even submitted one, but was rejected. I don’t mind; that just makes me feel more like an author. After I was rejected, I learned I’d made a major mistake in my story, so I fixed it and plan to submit it elsewhere. In the meantime, I keep writing.

            So, now you know about some of my dreams and aspirations for this year. What about you? Do you have any dreams that you’d like to make come true? Don’t let practicality stand in your way, if you can help it. Making dreams come true isn’t always practical, but it can be fun.

Unpaid Child Care

Recently my roommate and I got to talking about some of the things parents do for their children when they’re young. You know the kind of thing; wiping dirty noises and changing poopy diapers. Then as they get older you start helping them to navigate the world. As my roommate and I talked about this, my son chimed in with, “Yeah and you didn’t get paid for any of it either!” 

I looked at him and replied, “So! I got the best part.”

He looked at me funny, got up and walked off.

What my son doesn’t know and can’t possibly know until he gets to be a parent someday is that no matter how many times you wipe a snotty nose or change a poopy diaper it’s all worth it for the baby smiles and giggles you share with your child. Not to mention the hugs and cuddling while he’s still so little.

Watching him discover new things such as his hands and feet. Watching him crawl and take his first steps. Watching him stand on grass for the first time. Seeing him lift his little foot and put it down repeatedly as if he couldn’t believe the grass would hold him. Hearing him call me “mama” for the first time. The first time he tells me he loves me. Watching his face light up when I walked into the room and knowing that for that small space of time I was his whole world. 

Feeding him his first foods beyond formula and watching his little face as he decides if he likes it or not. The first cereal I fed him was rice. He was fine with that. The first baby food I fed him was sweet potato. He loved that. I don’t think I fed him a baby food he didn’t like. It was only as he got old enough to eat regular, solid foods that he started disliking foods. 

Watching him grow up and start school. His first day at school he had to ride the bus. We went out to the stop a bit early to be sure we were on time. He started getting bored, so we played tag. We kept to a small area so as not to miss the bus and from then on that became our normal waiting for the bus activity. Then the school moved into its new building across the street and there were no more games of tag. But I got to walk him to and from school until he was old enough to cross the street without me worrying too much about him.

As he got older, he got more independent and needed me less. I didn’t mind. This is part of life. He’s eighteen now and there’s no way I can explain to him that even though there are no monetary rewards for being his mom, I am paid. Paid by his love for me. Paid by watching him become a fine, caring young man who delights in helping others when he can. Paid when he does his chores in a responsible fashion. Paid when he goes to work to earn his living. Paid when I learn he does what’s asked of him and then some at his job. Those things are payment enough for me because they tell me that I’ve done my job as his mom. Like I said at the start, I got the best part.