When I was younger, I’d drive down the street and see some old lady putting out the trash or raking leaves in an tacky housedress or baggy pants, mismatched socks, scarf on her head, and say to myself, “Geez, doesn’t she realize what she looks like?” Sometimes I’d just feel sorry for the old bird, figuring no one ever sees her anyway…
Today I became her.
Just took the big recycle can out to the curb wearing a baggy housedress and woolly Alpine-patterned knee socks (hey, my feet get cold, even in the summertime), and crocs. A car drove by as I was doing it and I had this weird flashback/then & now sensation.
What have you surprised yourself by turning in to?
This reminds me of an instance. When I was young I used to make fun of my mother for sleeping with her bare feet sticking out from under the covers. Now I do it too, summer and winter, as do at least two of my siblings. It seems that as we age in this family, our feet get hot.
I used to make fun of my father for loading the trash (just one or two bags) into the car and driving it 200 feet to the end of the driveway instead of just carrying it. Now I live approximately the same distance from the road and do the same thing about half the time.
My mother never knew the names of the latest bands and songs and who was in which group and who sang what and I remember thinking “I’ll always know what’s climbing up Billboard!”
Yeah. Right. Unless it’s someone who’s been mentioned in a title in Cafe Society, I am probably clueless.
Hmm - this isn’t even that recent. Dropping the boy off on his first day at uni, trailing up the stairs of a student accommodation block with boxes, looking at all the other parents doing the same and thinking: Look at that fat old bald guy…oh Jesus…
I used to rag my MIL about worrying constantly about her adult children (Mr.Wrekker, included). I tried to tell her she didn’t have to worry anymore, they were raised and her job was finished. Now I am that Mom. It doesn’t feel nice for people to tell me to quit worrying. But, they do. I reply: “Just because they grew up doesn’t mean I am not their Mother”.
Growing up, I also thought people who didn’t go out and party at the bars were anti-social losers.
Now, nearing my 30s, I wince at people suggesting going out to bars. Nothing brings me more joy than spending a night in at home, playing on the computer, watching TV or reading a book.
Overweight ladies who wore baggy dresses. But here I am. Overweight. It’s hot out. There is no such thing as a sundress for size 3x. Instead, I have a purple tie-dye bag of a dress that I’m thrilled to wear around the house and on casual tasks because it has pockets. There’s nothing else attractive about it or me when I am in it. I am just keeping cool in a dress with pockets.
I’m financially independent, I just like seeing them knowing they won’t be here forever. When I was a kid, the idea of doing that struck me as pretty pathetic.
When my dad would have to brake unexpectedly when I was in the front passenger seat, he would throw his hand in front of my body even though I had my seat belt on, which I thought was unnecessary, useless, and slightly condescending, but when my much-younger sister was riding in my front passenger seat and I had to brake, my arm flew out in front of her too.
I had a girlfriend who used to do this. Her concern was touching, but what worried me was that this appeared to be her first reaction to an unforseen hazard, preceding braking or steering.
I was doing this to my new co-driver on a dirt road rally. She was laughing about it afterwords when another racer spoke up and asked “Don’t you know what she is doing?” My co-driver gave her a puzzled look. Racer says, “She’s keeping the groceries from sliding off the seat.” OMG, she was 100% right.:o
I used to think my grandparents were the most boring people on earth because every time I was at their house, they had a CBC on, listening to some boring person talk about something boring. Now I love the CBC and especially love the long, boring things they talk about.
Recently I was driving with my son, who is a Master Sargent in the Air Force, FFS, and I threw my arm over him when I had to brake hard. He said "did you just Mom-arm me? And he laughed. A lot.
The one that gets me is that I have reached a point with my grandchildren where I have to ask for exact instructions on what they want for gifts or I will buy the wrong thing. It’s past the point of a doll, some Legos or a red wagon. I have resorted to cash, now, and let them buy what they want.
