Saturday, February 22, 2014

Officially "Over the Hill"

"Mom, you KNOW that the left lane is only for passing, right?" (Katie Rose to me after a few hours of driver's training, forgetting the millions of hours of driving time I have under my belt.  Does she think I'm going to kill her now?)
"Hey, Mickey!  Can you please come in here and help me get the TV to turn on?"  (Me to Mickey, after working with three different remote control devices in an effort to relax and watch Downton Abbey after a long, hard day's work)
"Honey, you sent this text to the wrong person."  (John's text to me, after sending HIM a text meant for Mickey asking him to please be watching for me out the window as I was on my way to pick him up.  It was late - 8:00pm - and my eyes were ready to close for the night - didn't want to get out of the car.)

These words and others like them consume my days - at least the part of my days that involve people.  The non-people part of my days are spent knitting, pacing, thinking, wondering, remembering.

Last night at dinner, Katie Rose mentioned a new friend at school - a cheerleader.  She felt the need to point out that this new friend wasn't a "snotty" cheerleader as I had been when I was in high school.  What???  Where in God's name did she ever get the idea that I was a "snotty" cheerleader?  I was the nicest cheerleader in all of the land!

It occurs to me - and saddens me - that my children will not ever know the full me.  In their all-consuming view of the world through the filter of themselves, they will only ever know what they experience of me.  What they know of me, on this date in time, is what they see.  Unfortunately, they see a tired, older woman who, apparently, doesn't know how to drive, can't work the TV, and has a problem with new-fangled technology. Although she has done much in her life, this woman is no longer visible to the naked eye.

We used to joke about our parents' and grandparents' VCRs flashing 12:00.  We used to roll our eyes when Grandpa Joe would get so upset by the word, "bitch" in the Hall and Oates song Rich Girl.  We used to get scared when it was time for our visit to the "old folks home" to visit Grandma Henry, because those old people were always smelly and scary and trying to escape.

The hard part in all of this, is that I remember who I was...who I am.  Yet, trying to relate that to my children backfires, as I then sound like one of those people who talk about the past all the time - you know...walking five miles in the snow to school, with hot potatoes in our mittens to keep our hands warm.  As I age, I compare.

Perhaps it is best to leave it alone.  One day they will realize that they are who they are partly because I am who I am.

I WOULD just like to state for the record, though, before I sign off today...I am not, nor have I ever been snotty!...ever!!

Driving home from dinner last night, Katie Rose was reminded of her favorite story book...Little Bunny Foo Foo.  "Yeah.  I went into your preschool classroom and was a HUGE hit as I not only read that favorite story of yours to your friends, but acted it out, too."  Bam!

2 comments:

Katie Rose said...

I SENT THAT TEXT FROM DAD'S PHONE.

Ruth Prokopf said...

love it Diane! I was thinking just this the other day - so, I sent Jackson an email sharing something about me from 22 years ago - wanting him to know that me I was that is still here somewhere - just so old now I forget where she hides.
please keep blogging!
ruth