On the way to a certain age
I hear that aside from the joys of child rearing a key reason to have them is so you have someone to take care of you in your old age. Well, I do not have tricycle motors, teenaged anger machines, or any variation of the mix. BUT, I do have other people's children. Yes, you read that right. My friends know that their kids will be saddled with me, and in return for all of the good humor and advice I bestowed their way they get to make sure my old, decrepit, and insane ass is comfortable.
Like today, for instance, my friend Chris left a lovely Facebook wall post of her pre-teen. What did she say? "Love you love you love you! Please clean up your room and don't forget to walk the dogs when you get home . . . also, please take the two packages of ground meat out of the fridge (bottom shelf) and put in the sink to finish thawing. And don't forget to call me when you get home!" Very sweet, right? Good, responsible parenting.
What did I say?
"And don't have boys over."
Yea, I'm a beautiful person to remind a mother of a pre-teen--who is already entering the hormonal hell of puberty and her mother is already contemplating locking her in the basement until she is 30--that boys are around the corner. Yet, in the course of this conversation--for which Tricia called us "crazy" and I told her to not say such things about herself as people might believe them--Chris and I came to an all too real conclusion. Again.
When we are older, and grayer, we are screwed. This is the kid who called Chris pre-elderly and told me that there should be a law against my dancing. Mind you, I already know I dance like the whitest woman alive, but we were in the basement. Seriously now. So . . .
Today's conclusion is that Tricia will over-medicate us in our old age. Of course, Chris reminded me that she's going to have to pry the bourbon from our cold, dead hands. I replied that she better not buy us generic. You know, that Kirkland crap. Yet, Chris has offered to let me park next to her trailer, and we will block the kid in she so can never get out. What's that about?
Chris got remarried on the 15th of April, and her lovely daughter wrote this:
"LOVE! Something I will be crying over in my 30s while eating mint chocolate ice cream and talking to Lola about my problems. Mom and Billy got married and I have not been this happy in 2-3 years. I had no idea how much I would grow to love Billy when I first met him. The important thing that is Mom will have someone to make her happy while I scream at her from my house saying MOM PLEASE MOVE YOUR TRAILER OUT OF MY CAR LOT."
Sweet, endearing, funny as hell.
The moral of this debacle? I need some more friends with kids who know their sole purpose in life is to make sure my aged ass is taken care of. I'm afraid Tricia will lock Chris and me with the stuffed deer heads in the basement. Billy better start taking heart meds so he outlives us.
I told the mother of my Agnostic Daughters that since they are out of diapers I'm good to babysit. In all reality, I'm looking to lay another foundation or two so I have some wiggle room in my batshit crazy years.
Or maybe it's just teenagers, and almost teens, that frighten me.
Nah.
Like today, for instance, my friend Chris left a lovely Facebook wall post of her pre-teen. What did she say? "Love you love you love you! Please clean up your room and don't forget to walk the dogs when you get home . . . also, please take the two packages of ground meat out of the fridge (bottom shelf) and put in the sink to finish thawing. And don't forget to call me when you get home!" Very sweet, right? Good, responsible parenting.
What did I say?
"And don't have boys over."
Yea, I'm a beautiful person to remind a mother of a pre-teen--who is already entering the hormonal hell of puberty and her mother is already contemplating locking her in the basement until she is 30--that boys are around the corner. Yet, in the course of this conversation--for which Tricia called us "crazy" and I told her to not say such things about herself as people might believe them--Chris and I came to an all too real conclusion. Again.
When we are older, and grayer, we are screwed. This is the kid who called Chris pre-elderly and told me that there should be a law against my dancing. Mind you, I already know I dance like the whitest woman alive, but we were in the basement. Seriously now. So . . .
Today's conclusion is that Tricia will over-medicate us in our old age. Of course, Chris reminded me that she's going to have to pry the bourbon from our cold, dead hands. I replied that she better not buy us generic. You know, that Kirkland crap. Yet, Chris has offered to let me park next to her trailer, and we will block the kid in she so can never get out. What's that about?
Chris got remarried on the 15th of April, and her lovely daughter wrote this:
"LOVE! Something I will be crying over in my 30s while eating mint chocolate ice cream and talking to Lola about my problems. Mom and Billy got married and I have not been this happy in 2-3 years. I had no idea how much I would grow to love Billy when I first met him. The important thing that is Mom will have someone to make her happy while I scream at her from my house saying MOM PLEASE MOVE YOUR TRAILER OUT OF MY CAR LOT."
Sweet, endearing, funny as hell.
The moral of this debacle? I need some more friends with kids who know their sole purpose in life is to make sure my aged ass is taken care of. I'm afraid Tricia will lock Chris and me with the stuffed deer heads in the basement. Billy better start taking heart meds so he outlives us.
I told the mother of my Agnostic Daughters that since they are out of diapers I'm good to babysit. In all reality, I'm looking to lay another foundation or two so I have some wiggle room in my batshit crazy years.
Or maybe it's just teenagers, and almost teens, that frighten me.
Nah.
Comments
For the single among us it's good to make those connections now with friends' kids for security later on. You can come sponge off of Mary with me too if you'd like, and you didn't even have to babysit! lol