Another Year

Getting Older.

And fatter, but we don't want to talk about that. I had a birthday recently. I'm 37 years old now. I don't really know if I feel my age or not. Most of the time I think I don't. I remember when my mom was my age. She was getting ready to have my brother if I recall correctly. She worked hard as a nurse, and I used to hate it when she went to work. At the time we were living in a less than savory neighborhood in a little 3 bedroom/1 bath rental house.

Around that time our landlord announced that the house was to be painted. He had our house painted green apple. Bright green apple. I don't know if that was the actual name of the color used, but it was the same color as the green apple gum I liked to chew, so I immediately made the connection. I remember my parents saying, "He must have been drunk when he picked out that color!" I had overheard them talking about how he does like to spend a great deal of time in a little dive bar, he had even taken them to lunch at the little bar, and of course my parents were a little appalled at his choice of "restaurant" when he offered to take them to lunch.

That was the year that my wonderful, and pretty 2nd grade teacher started visiting our homes. Every week she would schedule a time to go and visit with the families of her students. When it came our turn, I was very excited. The day before my mom and I spent time tidying up the house, and vacuuming up the white Gidget hairs that we usually ignored unless company was coming. Gidget was our labradoodle. I'm pretty sure that is what she was, although she was a labradoodle before they were even called that and considered cool. She had long hair, and it seemed to fall off in clumps sometimes, at least it really showed up on the 70's olive green carpet we had.

Anyway, I rode home from school with my teacher so I could show her where we lived. When we pulled up to the house I was suddenly embarrassed by the apple green paint our landlord had chosen. I told her, "We just got our house painted, but the landlord was drunk when he picked out the color!" I remember she laughed at that, but I didn't know why, I was being serious. I thought she would be just appalled as I was to think of a man being drunk while shopping for paint colors.

The visit went well as I can remember. I showed her my room, and my dad's desk which was part of my room at the time. She visited with my mom some and left shortly after that.

At the end of the school year we moved. My parent's had bought a house in a completely different neighborhood. It was huge in comparison to our little rental house with 6 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms. They still live in that house, it is still a big house to me. The other night I sat at my mom's kitchen table and told her "I remember when you were my age mom, and it wasn't that long ago, life sure does go fast!"

"Oh, I know," she said, "and it goes faster as you get older." I felt a bit sad to think about it. My parents are getting older, both turning 66 this year. I see them having more difficulty with some tasks that used to be so easy for them. I'm ashamed that sometimes I wish my daughter would grow up, and I look forward to a different time in life where I have less burdens. I know it is wrong to feel that way, and I don't really mean it. Sometimes parenting is not a rewarding, and joyful experience, sometimes it it just damn hard work. Lately it has been challenging to say the least.

Having hard times does not change how much I love her, as I'm sure it didn't for my mother either, but your kids can tug on your heart strings in ways no one who isn't a parent can even imagine. I'm serious. For some people parenting is a breeze, their children just do everything right, and are so agreeable. That sure hasn't been my experience lately, but I know this will pass in time, and I will be cursing myself for ever wanting her to grow up faster. I know it.

I just pray to God that I live long enough to see her to independence, able to stand on her own two feet and with the ability to survive in this world with dignity, and honor. I guess in that it would be all worth it. That is the reward in parenting. My tears will no longer be of frustration, but of joy when that happens.

We will see how I feel next year. Hugs.