Old Gray Mare, Ain’t What She Used to Be.

I have been thinking about the idea for a while, but last night was the first time that I fully acknowledged that I am getting older.  I had a number of things that I wanted to accomplish after Whirlwind went to bed.  It is so satisfying to cross things of a list – but that is another post for another time!  It was what happened while I was crossing things off this list that sad reality set in.

I finally sat down to sew the curtains for the nursery.  After a long, unproductive search for the perfect fabric at the fabric store, I actually found the curtain fabric as part of a sheet set at Ikea.  It was easier for me as I just needed to sew the pocket for the rod to feed through and hem the length.   Ha – maybe easier is not the best word choice.

The one sheet set was already out of the packaging in my bedroom as I had already measured width and height a few weeks back.  However, I just could not find the second set.  I looked in my closet.  I looked under my bed.  I looked behind the recliner in my room.  I even looked in my dirty clothes hamper.  I started a search in the nearly empty nursery.  All that is in there is a side table, a lamp, some folded clothes in the closet and a stack of chair rail waiting to be installed.  I search the linen closet and laundry room.  I even put Fuzz to work to help me search, although he was just irritating me by repeatedly asking me if I was sure I bought two sets.  After my third (yes, third!) sweep of the entire house, I finally found it.  Where?  It was in the nursery – still in the package.

Now that it was finally time to sit down and sew.  I carefully filled my bobbin with white thread.  I wound my spool thread around the sewing machine mechanisms and pulled the end down to the eye of the needle.  I must have tried for at least 5 minutes to get that frigin’ thread through the eye of the needle.  I had to plug in the sewing machine to turn the light on so I could see to thread it.  An immediate flashback happened:

Granny – Randa (my Granny’s pet name for me), can you come here for a minute?

Me – Sure.

Granny – Can you thread this needle for me.  I can’t see.

The horror!  I’m now one step closer to geriatrics.  What’s next?  Will I have to get those magnifying glasses that the old doll repairman wears while fixing Woody in Toy Story 2?  The glasses that he has to keep increasing the magnification and his eyes keep getting larger and larger?

Am I being a tad bit dramatic?  Maybe.  I’m only one the lower half of my Thirties but it’s a slippery slope, I tell ya.  I’ve already been pulling grey hair from my temples.  Although, the good news about that is that they are all very fine, have all been confined to my temples and very elusively hidden under layers of hair.  I hope that it is a sign that I either have my Granny’s lightly salted hair or my Dad and Grandpa’s almost non-existent grey hair.  If that’s true, then at least I will not have to be pulling a Grey Owl and having to squirrel away to the bush to colour the roots of my hair to stay Native looking.

I also pulled out my first “when I was a kid” stories today.  Whirlwind has recently started watching shows on other networks rather than just Tree House and Disney.  He watched an another episode of Spider Man today.  To his dismay this show had commercials.  At every commercial he got upset and wanted to the show to continue immediately.  I had to explain to him that commercials are an annoyance of big boy and adult TV shows.  Later in the day, he was back watching Tree House but a show came on that he didn’t like.  He wanted to watch Jake and the Neverland Pirates, not Manon.  He was upset yet again and kept voicing pirate “arrghs” and “ahoys”.  This is when I pulled out the story:  “You know when Mommy was a kid, we had to watch TV with commercials.  We had to watch the show that was on TV at the time it was airing – if we missed it, we missed it.  We couldn’t fast-forward or watch TV shows on-demand”.   As the story came out of my mouth, I knew I was doomed.  My next story will probably be of how I had to walk from the reserve to town in a snow storm, uphill and barefoot.  Call my parents collect from a pay phone in hopes that they would come give me a ride home. 

Fuzz has also been feeling the effects of age as he has been hobbling around here with an injured back.  He told me that he would have to continue to work out the rest of his life just to stay mobile and keep up with me.  Oddly, I had visions of having to lubricate his joints with oil as Dorothy does for the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz.  With the two of us falling apart already, I can only imagine what we will be like in 10, 20, 50 years.  We will be screaming at each other because we are both have hearing loss – mine from listening to ear buds too loud and his from old construction jobs.  I imagine the massive amounts of hair that he will grow in his ears will also not help that either.  His hair will be thinner and mine will be lopped off.  He will start tucking in his shirts and I will have to find a wardrobe that is age appropriate yet still hip.  Our kids will have to show Fuzz how to work the new technology repeatedly – although I will vow to never let this happen to me because it was so frustrating trying to get my Granny to remember the ONE button on the remote that changed the TV input so she could watch a DVD.

Getting older is inevitable though.  There is nothing that I could do about it, really.  I might as well just accept that I am moving up there in age and do what everybody else does…live vicariously through their kids and grandkids!  It worked for my Granny.  She was always the first one down the sliding hill on a Krazy Karpet (on her stomach!) and she had the youngest heart of all.  


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