I'm Feeling 46

"I'm Feeling 46"  (sung to the tune of "22" by Taylor Swift)

It feels like a perfect night, to dress up in pj's
And make fun of the neighbors, uh huh, uh huh
It feels like a perfect night, to be asleep by midnight
But first catch up on TV, uh huh, uh huh

Yeah
We're tired, old confused and wired at the same time
It's miserable and magical oh yeah
Tonight's the night to catch up on bill deadlines
It's time

I don't know about you
But I'm feeling 46
Everything will be alright
I got my Netflix picks

You don't know about me
But I see your Pintrest tricks
I just can't do that sh&t
I've got no patience cause I'm 46

It seems like one of those nights,
This place is too crowded,
Gonna check in on Facebook (what the hell is Snapchat anyway?)
It seems like one of those nights,
We ditch the whole scene, and end up eating,
before we're sleeping

Yeah
We're tired, old, confused and wired at the same time
It's miserable and magical oh yeah,
Tonight's the night when we forget about the back pain
It's time

I don't know about you, but I'm feeling 46
Everything will be alright
I got my Netflix picks

You don't know about me
But we have the same MDs
What's your insurance plan?
That's what we talk like when we're 46

It feels like one of those nights,
We ditch the whole scene
It feels like one of those nights,
You'll find me sleeping.
It feels like one of those night,
Oh look, a cookie.
I gotta have it, I gotta have it.

What I (Maybe) Learned in my 40's

I regularly see articles shared on Facebook with the title “Things I learned in my 40’s”.  I cringe when I see these lists, because I end up not agreeing with each item and that makes me feel like I have failed at being 40-something. 

For example, each list always contains some version of “I no longer give a crap about what others think of me.”  If only that were true for me.  I inherited the “always give a crap about what others think of you” gene from my mom, and there is no expiration date on it. This does not apply in some circumstances.  I truly don’t give a crap if my neighbors see me in Stop and Shop looking like I just rolled out of bed.  However, I am still a work in progress with regard to the need to be liked and the need to be needed.  That being said, I have become better at just saying “no” to doing things that I really don’t want to do.  I definitely have always had FOMO (fear of missing out) but nowadays that fear has its ass beaten regularly by the desire to sit on my sectional couch (I always wanted one) and watch whatever is on TBS.

The realization that mortality is inevitable is another concept that is always on these lists.  I’m on board with that one.  My parents both passed away at the age of 81.  When I was younger, if you would have said to me that someone passed at that age, I would have said something like “wow!  81!  That person lived a long, long life.  It must have been time.” Now, my reaction is more like “81??  I can’t die at 81!  That’s the age that I planned to stop giving a crap about what others think of me!!”

Writers of these lists have come to the peaceful conclusion that the laundry will always be there, that time spent worrying about the state of one’s house is time spent not enjoying life.  Let’s be real for a moment, shall we?  While I am far from being meticulous when it comes to the neatness of my house (just ask my husband, he’ll tell you) I spend some time every single day straightening up, doing laundry, and/or going through the large stacks of papers that take over my dining room table.  You would never know it, because actually getting ahead is impossible.  As soon as I put something away, one of my children is taking two more things out. If I actually subscribed to the philosophy that “it can wait”, every inch of my floor would be covered with Shopkins, hair ties and craft projects.  Yes, often my 7 year old is asking me to play with her as I scurry around the house.  And, yes, I feel bad when I tell her that I can’t play with her at that time.  And that is why the Lord above created YouTube.

So, what have I actually learned in my 40’s?  I’ve learned that some people who you thought would always be a part of your life, won’t be, but that people who you thought were long gone can come back.

I’ve learned that we are all struggling with something.  Everyone has a story. Everyone.

I’ve learned that aside from family and friends, everyone should have something that brings them joy, something that makes them smile, something to escape to.  For me, this is music.

I’ve learned that as much as I was always determined to not make the same mistakes that I thought my parents did, I will.  But I have also learned that the key to parenting is communication.  I communicate the crap out of my kids, whether they like it or not.

What have you learned? 

WWDGD?

I have a million dollar idea.  I’ve decided I am going to create a line of clothing and jewelry with the letters “WWDGD” on each item.  WWDGD stands for “What Would Dave Grohl Do?”  Let me explain…

For those who don’t know, Dave Grohl is the singer and guitarist for the band Foo Fighters.  One month ago, Dave broke his leg onstage at a show in Sweden.  Instead of stopping the show there, he had the medic hold his ankle (which he thought was the sole injury) in place while he sang and played guitar from a chair.

After that show, 46 year-old Dave had a decision to make.  He could cancel the upcoming shows, but he knew that people were counting on him.  So, instead, he designed a tricked-out throne, from which he would sing and play during shows.  And sing and play he did going forward; for three solid hours each show.

His injury became a running joke throughout the show, in fact the tour is now known as the “Broken Leg Tour.”

I have always said that Dave Grohl is the coolest person on the planet.  He gained even more cool points with me when he appeared in the movie The Muppets as the drummer of the knock-off band, The Moopets. However, how he dealt with this injury takes him to a whole other dimension of cool.

I know that not all of us have access to a throne, though we damn well deserve one.  But Dave teaches us a valuable lesson.  There is always a solution.  There is always a way to keep moving forward, no matter what part of us is broken.  So, the next time you are faced with an obstacle, think to yourself, WWDGD? (patent pending)

No One Is To Blame (Except Mom)

Recently, I was having a conversation with a friend about blogs; about how we both previously wrote them but had neglected them.  I told her that I had not been inspired by anything.  Well, that changed today.  Witness the following text conversation between me and my tween, who was at camp at the time and looking through her swim bag:

Tween: MOM

Me: Yes?

Tween: DID YOU TAKE MY BRUSH OUT

Me: No

Tween: Then where is it?!?!,

Me: I did see a brush on the floor

Tween: and you didn’t tell me ugh

And that, dear readers, is the epitome of the mother/tween relationship.  See, moms of tweens are supposed to cater to our daughters’ every need, even before they know they need it, and if that need is not met, no matter how far removed we actually are from it, it is always our fault.

I have been blamed for just about everything. Supermarket is out of her favorite cookie.  My fault.  Rip in her shirt.  My fault.  No wifi at the bagel store.  My fault. No clean underwear.  My fault (OK, that one is kind of my fault but we are working slowly towards her doing her own laundry.)

I wonder why it’s so easy for mom to be the punching bag.  I think back to when I was as a tween (though I don’t believe they had that term in the pre-social media, meme and Disney Channel era.)  Yes, I was the same way with my mom.  I wonder why my tween is not that way with her dad.  I guess it is because no matter how involved fathers are in their child’s life (and my daughter’s dad is very involved), moms are always seen as the primary care-taker.  When one cog in the ever-moving machine of daily life gets stuck and the system breaks down, Chief Engineer Mom is the one to blame.

It’s hard not to get defensive. While I try to ignore these comments, sometimes I snap.  This time I chose to ignore.  A minute later I received a text that read “sorry that sounded mean.”  Victory! Then a moment later another text asking if I can take her to get her nails done.  I’ll take it.

Balance Shmalance

I’ve been reading a lot of articles lately about work/life balance and the one thing I have learned from the is this; I hate the term “work/life balance.”

Let’s start with the “work/life” part.  Listing these two in that way makes them opposed values.  I don’t know about you, but work is very much a part of my life. Work is a part of how I identify myself. To list them as opposite forces is unrealistic.  How often does a bad day at work influence your mood at home?  How many pictures of your family do you have in your office?  Work and “life” are intertwined like one big pretzel.  Therefore, I propose instead of “work/life” we say “work/TROL” (“TROL” standing for “the rest of life”, copyright pending.)

OK, so now that we have that settled, let’s talk about the whole idea of balance.  HA!  To me, the idea of balance conjures up an image of an old fashioned scale, where both sides are in perfect alignment at a given moment.  I don’t care if you are a mom, dad, worker or stay-at-home, do you ever feel this way?  I didn’t think so.  For me, and I am guessing most of you, the scale is in constant flux, sometimes the work side is higher, sometimes TROL is higher.  The key is not to allow ourselves to feel like something will always be “suffering” because of this.  Instead of being in the moment in whatever we are doing, we worry about the things that are not being done. How many times have you had the following thoughts?

•      I should do some work from home but the kids really want me to play Barbie, Candyland, school, Legos (fill in the blank.)
• ·      If I go to this conference I will miss my daughter’s recital (true story)
• ·      I want to read to the kids but the laundry is piling up.
• ·      I can spend time with the kids now instead of cooking, but then will feel guilty for getting take out instead of making them a healthy meal at home.

If your answer is “never”, well then please stop reading this blog and go back to baking your cookies from scratch and posting pictures of them on Pinterest.  If you answered “on a daily basis” then you and I have a lot in common and we should go out for drinks sometime.

In the wise words of Roseanne Rosannadanna, “it’s always something”.  Looking for balance sets us up for extreme failure, a goal that is just, in my humble opinion, unattainable (much like keeping my den neat or staying away from M&Ms.)

Maybe we should see life as more of a see saw, some parts are up, some parts are down, the goal is to just stay on so the person on the other side does not come crashing down too hard.

Do I take my own advice? Well, that’s debatable depending on the day, the hour, the moment, but it sounds like a helluva New Year’s Resolution. Who’s with me?

I Know I'm Getting Older Cause...

• Going on a playground swing has become an extreme sport.
• I don't recognize the people on the cover of Entertainment Weekly.  Ever.  Unless it's a "throwback" issue.
• Getting standing-room-only tickets to a concert seem preposterous.
• I use the word "preposterous." 
• Comfortable shoes rock my world.
• Going to see a movie that starts after 10:00pm?????
• I always bring a jacket with me.
• Drinking red wine puts me to sleep.
• Watching movies at home after 10:00 puts me to sleep.
• Pretty much anything puts me to sleep.
• I use one of those daily medication sorters.
• I make the reflexive "uhh" sound when I get up from a seated position.
• I sometimes use "I need to put the weather channel on" as an excuse to sit down on the couch for a few minutes (but then when I get up..."uhh".)
• I had to teach my office's graduate assistant how to use the fax machine.
• I don't know what a meme is.
• I still use a camera.
• I don't remember how to dance.
• I just panicked cause my screen disappeared and I did not know how to get it back.

Florence

When I was in high school I started working at a local bank as a customer service representative.  I was a part-timer and since I worked Thursday and Friday evenings and Saturdays, I shared a desk with a full-timer who worked Monday-Friday until 4.  Her name was Florence.

Florence was a bit over-the-top.  She had very big, blonde hair.  Not 80's big, but kinda-like if you had a bee-hive hairdo and just flattened the top a bit so it stretched out horizontally.  She wore bright make up. She was a rather large women who was always in a skirt or dress, with matching jewelry.

When you are 16 everyone seems "old" to you so I actually don't know how old Florence was at that time, and couldn't even venture a guess now. What I did know was that she was unmarried with no children;  that she lived alone and seemed to prefer that over any alternative.

Florence was a bit, well, difficult to work with. She could be classified as a "curmudgeon." She wanted things the way she wanted things. Since we shared a desk, I often took great pleasure in messing with her by moving her things around. She would also get upset if people did not follow procedures. God help the person who did not put the Traveler's Cheques box in exactly the place it should be.  This was a women who did not hold back a thought.  She would not hesitate to complain to one of  the managers about something.  Consequently, many people found it, well, challenging to be around her. But, for some reason, Florence and I got along.  Maybe because I let her complain, or maybe because she always seemed genuinely friendly to me.

After 3 1/2 years I left the bank to pursue the greener pastures of telemarketing, a job which would not cramp my teen-age style by requiring me to work Friday nights and wake up early to work on Saturdays (that job, by the way, was short-lived, I just couldn't deal with the constant rejection of people yelling at me or hanging up on me.)  But my communication with Florence did not end along with my tenure at the bank.  She was great at sending cards, up until just a few years ago she always sent me a card for my birthday, even though I forgot hers long ago, and we always sent each other Christmas cards, every single year.  Once I had children she would write to me how much she enjoyed seeing the pictures of my girls.  Every card she sent had a hand-written note. Florence had great handwriting and always wrote her notes in the Christmas cards in red marker (she did love color.)  Unfortunately, her notes were filled with updates on what members of her family had died since the last card, and the health issues that she was experiencing herself.  However, she always ended with her hopes for a healthier and happier new year.

Every year I worried when I did not receive a card from Florence.  Usually her card was a bit late so I would say to my husband "haven't received a card from Florence yet" and he knew that meant that I was worried that I wouldn't. It was always a relief to see that envelope made out with red marker.

Today I received the card that I sent to her back in my mailbox.  There were three letters on the envelope that were not there when I mailed it out, those letters were "DEC." My heart sank.  My husband saw my face and said "maybe it means December", neither of us really thought that made much sense but it was a good try.

I immediately took to the internet and try to find any mention of her passing, but there was nothing.  The thing is, Florence had no spouse, no children, and she had outlived her siblings.  There was not even anyone to write me a note to explain her passing, all there was was someone to write "DEC" and place the envelope back in the mailbox.

Of course, now I wish I had done more for Florence over the years.  Maybe I could have gone to visit her.  Or maybe I could have written her birthday down once and for all. I think of the fact that the image I have of her in my mind is one from over 25 years ago.  Did she still have the big hair?  Still wear the make-up?  I think of how unique our "friendship" was.  I think of what I have learned by it, and how I will use Florence as an example for my girls of "don't judge a book by it's cover".  Maybe receiving my annual card with my girls' smiling faces brought a smile to her face; or maybe she just appreciated the fact that after all of these years she was still on my Christmas list.  Maybe the little things in life aren't so little after all.

Rest in peace, Florence.