Sometimes I have little moments that remind me how old I am. Generally it bothers me very little. It may take nothing, just a reminder of my age and i'll have this little jolt of "whoa, that used to feel so old to me," hearing it like I did as a youth or something. It's like when I was 16 or 17 and heard that Salt Lake City was going to host the 2002 olympics and I tried to imagine what life would be like then. I couldn't even begin to comprehend who I'd be at TWENTY-TWO. That's like a legit grown-up. And now I'm THIRTY-FIVE and it can baffle my teenage mind every once in a while. And when I have dreams that I've gone back to my 9th grade geometry class because Mr. Peterson indeed had not seen the last of me, to take a test and just pick up where i left off of expressing my math outrage and always questioning WHY??? And then find myself walking the halls with my "friends" who are actually 14, and when they ask me how I did on the "big geography test" I attempt to know what they are talking about, trying to come off as FOURTEEN. When I dream those dreams, yeah, I wake up feeling old.
But really, I love my age. I'm ok with getting older, for the most part. Having your body slowly start to fail you, bit by bit, is nettlesome and lame. But I love leaving behind the superficial issues of my youth, for instance, trying to look attractive. It feels more and more pointless as the years go by. I think I eagerly anticipate the old lady years with comfort shoes and mismatched socks. Sounds like a dream! And being at this place is humbling and freeing. I cut my hair after it being long for most of my life and now have this androgynously short hair and i love it. And it makes me not care about being an attractive woman, I guess because I sort of look like a man. And for some reason, that is fun! Even when the small child on the bus asked me if I was a man and when I asked why, he said, "because you have man hair... and a man face." Even when that. I like
my man hair and man face.
Speaking of man things, I took on a manly duty this year. It happened in the summertime, when Julian and I were out at the creek after Sean had gone up to the house for something. Julian had to "pee so bad" and, adhering to the strict "small people sit on the toilet" rule in our house, had never actually peed standing up. But since he's too heavy for me to pick up and hold as was our traditional pee
in the park at the curb
outdoors style, it was the only option. Oh, because the house was far. So I took it upon myself and gave my son his first pee standing lesson. It was soooo funny. I gave him some theoretical suggestions without having any real tips and positioned myself in a "about to pee standing" stance I thought might be suitable. I instructed him the best I could and we stood side-by-side. His first time was quite successful and we both giggled through the whole thing. Now that's some fine mother/son bonding.
I remember the first time Sam had to pee standing up (he had always refused) at about age 5. We were hiking and there was no choice, kind of like your situation. Funny how a lack of alternatives forces us to evolve.
Amen about being old enough to not care about your looks too much! I decided when I had my first kid that I was never going to be a cool mom (because, in my opinion, THERE'S NO SUCH THING and even if there were, I wasn't cool before I had kids, so how could I possibly ever be cool after the fact???), and it was so liberating!
I mean, I'm not saying I'm completely letting myself go. But I'm comfortable in my post-five-children body and I'm okay with that.
I'm planning on whacking my hair off after Christmas and I can hardly wait. I have super thin hair, so I doubt it will look as good as yours does. But honestly, I'm so tired of it being in a ponytail all the time. I don't even care.
BRING ON THE MAN HAIR!!!
Hooray! Man hair is the greatest. And you know, there are so many kinds of cool. Be your own cool, man.
Now Joel, if evolution could bring about a way for female pee standing. I know this is nothing new but the struggle is still real.
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