THE JOY OF AGING

Aging is a tricky thing. Let’s be frank, it’s not easy watching the years tick by and realizing that you are moving from decade to decade faster than a jack rabbit (are you sweating yet?). I don’t know about you, but it gives me pause now when I fill out a form and suddenly my age group box looks a lot less desirable than it used to (but why can’t I be in the 35-40 group, why!!).

For the most part, we all know the hard things about aging; and don’t we know that society takes some sick pleasure in reminding us, especially us women. Jobs are a little harder to come by, ‘mature’ face creams are suddenly being pushed upon us, our backsides suddenly discover a mind (and position) of their own; even our doctors remind us that post 35 things don’t quite work like they used to (my doctor used to give me the ‘hurry-up’ fertility talk all the time. God I loved those moments of bonding).

So it dawned on me the other day that there is not enough dialogue (or even if there is there should be more!) on the positives of aging. I think if we (esp. us women) inundated the airwaves with all the good things aging brings about, then perhaps people wouldn’t fear it so much; or at least it might be a tad easier to embrace. And obviously every one is going to have their own mental list of what they actually like or found surprising (in a good way!) as they advanced in years. For some it will be the letting go of things that used to feel so important; for others it will be the sheer joy of enjoying some ice cream without fearing it's going to kill them or reside on their hips for the rest of their years. (I plan to live my 70's bathed in peanut butter and chocolate ice cream, but that's me).

For me, the mightiest thing that my yonder decades (as I like to call them) have brought me is a knowledge of self. I know it is a simple one, but extremely powerful and profound. And take it from a gypsy soul who wandered around and took their own sweet time to figure it all out, knowing who I am now feels pretty damn good. Now that I have hit 40, there is nothing better than knowing one’s true character (warts and all), limitations, stress points, principles and overall likes and dislikes. There is a true freedom in knowing all things that matter to oneself and more importantly, the things that don’t matter anymore - and oh is that list growing longer by the day. It’s as if you can stand on a small hill, look down and see your younger self worrying and fighting and stressing about all the uncontrollables and you realize that this older you is in a much different place (or at least trying to be).

Now, don’t misunderstand me. I have not grown into the Buddha or anything. I still stress and make mistakes; I often still fight the things I can’t control, and I certainly have not figured it ALL out. But there is wisdom in knowing from where you’ve come that makes it a heck of a lot easier to make decisions and stand by them. No to mention, realize that all the fight in life is more exhausting than it's worth. My new motto: surrender (in safety of course) whenever possible. Moreover, age brings about a liberation of sorts in the fact that even though you know you can always change and evolve and work on things in yourself, there are certain things that if you haven’t changed by now, you’re probably not going to (so embrace that love of chocolate damn it, and stop trying to fight it the whole time! Life is short). You may dull the sharp edges perhaps from sheer fatigue (!), but they may not disappear forever. And that’s okay.

And of course, the other great thing about aging is the sheer progression of life. You (hopefully) have met someone you love and finally realize what that means. You have kids or pets, or responsibilities that bring out your best (and sometimes most challenged) self. You have hindsight (ah that good ol’ hindsight) and the ability to reflect (and hopefully gain wisdom in that reflection). And you realize that despite how many mistakes you thought you made getting to this point, you can now categorically say that they’ve made you who you are....so really they weren’t mistakes at all, but ‘learning experiences.’ God I love euphemisms.

So the next time the King asks me what it’s like to be my age (at the moment, he’s more concerned about what it’s like to have the, ahem, specific female parts that I have & he doesn’t have) I’m going to tell him, listen, 'my butt may not be where it used to be and I may have a few more wrinkles than I used to, but let’s hope I have a lot more sense.'

SICK DAY

We’ve all done it; some of us for very good reason, some of us, not so much. We’ve been creative about it, evasive, and some, downright absurdly surreal. (I could be talking about pretty much anything, couldn’t I?). In this case, I’m talking about calling in sick and the lengths to which some will go to take a day off work.

A recent study in the UK of 1000 employees and their bosses showed that the elaborate excuse is live and kicking and for the most part, bosses aren’t buying a word of it. (Glad to see this is where research money is being spent; I could’ve told you most employers doubt their employees are being truthful about taking a sick day). Now, for most of us, for the majority of our working lives we have only called in sick when it was good and necessary. A flu, a cold, and a hangover so bad that it of course qualified as a high-ranking disease. Come to think of it, I think I’ve only told a fib to one of my umpteenth bosses as to why I couldn’t make it in to work purely because I was always so paranoid I’d be found out. (I also have a lot of residual Catholic guilt that makes it very hard for me to lie to an authority figure). Usually I reserved the sick day for when I was so desperate due to illness that the veracity was never questioned...funny enough, one of my bosses used to send me home during a bad bout of insomnia as he claimed I was too 'exhausting' to be around (ha, tell me about it!).

But then there is the sect of the population that not only have no problem lying, they do it with such flamboyance that it is hard to believe they don’t laugh over the words as they are coming out of their mouths. During this study they amassed some of the best (and most hysterical excuses) people gave for having to miss work. A few of the gems given: “a can of beans fell on my toe;” “my dog was scared and I didn’t want to leave him.” “I am hallucinating (ha!);” “I’ve injured myself during sex;” “the fish is sick," and " the door is broken so I can't open it." We are clearly dealing with a group of geniuses in this study.

Seriously, if one has the balls to say any of the above to one’s boss, I’m thinking the individual is in the wrong line of work. Perhaps they should try politics, because their embrace of the lie is truly comical. Unsurprisingly, six out of ten employers do not believe their employees when they call in sick. One is based on the excuse given, two, they ‘don’t sound sick enough,’ and three, the sick day usually falls on a spate of very good weather (this is the problem in England and why I truly believe that when the sun actually comes out, office buildings should simply just shut down and surrender).

Nowadays, a third of bosses explained that they keep an eye on social media to see if their employees are well enough to post updates (this was not a problem when I joined the work force, thank god), which I’m imagining is how many idiots get caught as they simply can’t help themselves from posting their ever passing whim and activity. One individual involved in the study even went as far as to post that they had called in sick and were enjoying a nice day out. 

Come to think of it, if I were their employer, I would fire them purely for being not that bright.  

Happy Monday all. 

JESUS ON MY TEA TOWEL

[ONE FROM THE ARCHIVES TODAY. NEW BLOG TOMORROW!]

Recently a woman in Coventry (UK) took a tea towel out of the dryer to find a brown stain on it resembling a long bearded man. She and her husband claim the image within the stain is none other than Jesus Christ himself. The woman claimed the stain was not there before the dryer but after the load finished, she took it out and, presto, there was (call me crazy, but something tells me her dryer is too hot and may burn the house down if she’s not careful) an image of the holy man himself.

Of course they have been mobbed with requests from the uber pious hoping to make a pilgrimage to her kitchen of piety to gaze upon her tea-stained tea towel. I’m sorry, I realize my jaded side is showing through in technicolor, but I just never get on board with this type of stuff. Perhaps because I just fundamentally don’t trust humans or their eyesight.

I suppose my first question is why do people always insist it is Jesus imprinted upon their food items, linens, lining in the cat litter box etc. I’ve seen the photo of the tea towel and between you and I, I can’t even make out a face, let alone the face of Jesus Christ. Not to mention, if one can make out a man with a beard, could that not be a likeness of the guy that delivers circulars to the neighborhood, or the former house owner that died in that very kitchen fifteen years before, or even the local bus driver. Why is it always Jesus? Why don’t people see Elvis or Kurt Cobain or dead political figures? Now that would be a miracle. Holy shiz, there is an image of JFK inside the King’s nappy. Now that would get me believing in something (a diet change for the King perhaps).

I realize these days everyone is searching for a miracle of some sort, but I have a hard time believing that Jesus would appear on a towel in some woman’s house in Coventry. Okay, for those not jaded like myself, I suppose your answer is, why on earth not. I just have problems with believing a stain isn’t more than a stain and often a sheer trick of the eye. The King’s entire wardrobe is littered with stains and unidentifiable blobs, but I’ve yet to see a man staring back at me from his trouser leg. [Although, I could swear his hoodie has an image of Johnny Depp sprinting across a bridge naked, then again, perhaps that's just my active imagination]. Trust me, if I did, I’d have confirmation that a year and a half without proper sleep can drive you definitively mad. But then again, maybe that’s why I don’t get Jesus appearing in my house, cause he knows it would go right over my head and out the window.

Ms. McCourt, the tea towel believer, is now insistent that this is a definitive sign from God, and of course this event has strengthened her faith. Apparently another resident of this same area claimed Jesus appeared to her on a drainpipe. [I’m not even sure how one sees Jesus on a drainpipe?] Clearly in this town, something deeply religious (and hallucinogenic) is in the water. 

BABY WANNA IPAD

My friend and I were discussing technology the other day and how it is affecting our children. Now that’s a loaded statement, isn’t it? I don’t think anyone can deny that the advancements in technology across the board are affecting our kids in a plethora of ways, positively and negatively. From access to an unbelievable amount of information at one’s fingertips thanks to the Internet, to the overstimulation from technological devices, I’d say that the fingerprint of the modern age on this generation is quite significant.

For starters, most three year olds can work an iPhone/iPad. I’m not kidding. In fact, if you hang around a group of toddlers, an unsettling thing starts to happen when you realize that they believe they can swipe their finger across any screen and it will turn on or do as they wish. It’s utterly disconcerting, and as much as I fight my husband on ever letting the King have a device of his own, I know eventually I will lose this battle; he fears that the King will ‘fall behind’ in technology, and as much as I want to laugh at this statement, he could be right. As far as I know, most six year olds may be able to write code by now; it would not surprise me in the slightest.

Then there is the outlet of self-expression that technology has provided which has left a profound mark on the youth of world. For starters, kids now can text, tweet, and send emails where in my day one could not. [In fact, we were reliant on the simple (and glorious handwritten letter (oh how I miss letters) to get our point across]. This has meant that for the shy and introverted, there is now a platform, behind a curtain if you will, to express his or herself. And with this shield of technology, the once shy can perhaps be less so. They may be too shy to cross a dance floor and talk to a boy they like, but posting their latest thought to him on Facebook in regards to the new Selena Gomez movie, that they can perhaps muster. This of course also opens things up to the more extroverted kid and means that they now too have a platform and all that it entails (okay okay we get it, you exist!) to tell their friends (and the world) about every thought in their head.

The interesting thing is, or annoying, depending on how you look at it, is that technology has also inspired creativity in the youth of today due to the multitude of ways one can express oneself. You see it all the time – and perhaps far too often – with kids and what they 'send/post' to their friends. The common email or text can now mean that the aspiring writer, or non-writer for that matter, can turn into a linguist or romantic poet; or at least attempt it. [Let’s be honest, most kids text in a shorthand that is not only incoherent but would have Shakespeare rolling in his grave]. As well as the aspiring musician can now post themselves singing in their bedroom with a guitar in hopes of becoming the next Justin Beiber. You see the endless possibilities? They’re alarming aren’t they? Nowadays, if a kid wants to say or do something, the Internet is their gateway to the biggest audience their young minds can conceive.

Then there is the voyeuristic culture thanks to social media that opens up another can of worms for this modern generation. They know they are seen and that they know they have a voice (even if it's just on social media), but they’re not always aware of how to use it or the repercussions of that. Not to mention, they are also exposed to a whole host of information and images that often result in them learning far more than their young brains can tolerate or should be processing. Don't get me wrong, I want to believe that there are positives to technology for the younger generation; it gives those who feel invisible a place to feel visible; it allows those with a creative bent to exercise this, not to mention it provides a connection to their friends and the world in a way that was not possible before. 

But of course the jaded, more protective part of me fears that technology breeds an advancement in kids that most are not ready for, not to mention, an ethos that life is meant to be lived on display. You talk to a young person today about privacy or discretion and they look at you as if you’re mad. But why wouldn’t I share my every thought, whim and desire? 'Don't you get it, I can, so therefore, I must.' 

All I can say is, at least with all these advancements it means I can track the King's every sodding move, even down to his movements thanks to his cell phone. You see, I can. So therefore...well you get the picture.

Happy Monday.

BLACK SMOCK, BLUE SMOCK?

There are a lot of hindsight moments in parenting. I’m sure every mother and father out there is shaking his or her head in agreement on that one. Even at the end of every day, it’s hard not to look back on one’s parental scorecard and think to yourself, ‘man, I could’ve handled that one better.’ Or conversely of course, ‘wow, I hit that one out of the park. I should write a parenting book!’ (ha!) This hindsight applies to the minutiae of day to day parenting (next time hide the magic marker when you leave the room) as well as the very big issues...well, we’re not really at this point yet, but I’m sure his teenage years will bring plenty to ruminate over (especially as yesterday the King drained the rest of my friend's beer without us knowing. Not a good sign).

At the moment (in hindsight) I’m realizing that the whole ‘Mommy’ moniker was an egregious mistake on my part. I mean honestly, I’m a bright woman, how did I get this one so wrong when the field was so wide open? In short, at the present time, I hear the word ‘Mommy,’ about 1000 times a day from the King. I do not jest. It is said all day, every day, in absurd repetition as if his motherboard has a profound glitch in it. Followed by a very close second: ‘Mommy, LOOK!’ [I have a profound case of whiplash]. Now, if I had just put a little bit of thought into things, I could’ve introduced myself to my son on day one as ‘Hot Stuff.’ Or ‘Do-er of all that is great and intelligent with a very small bottom.’ Or, ‘Beautiful Genius that is always right.’ I mean the possibilities, as I said, are limitless. So whilst I would have to listen to my moniker at all times, at least it would be a flattering, life-affirming acknowledgement of my stellar greatness :-). All you potential parents out there should think long and hard about this one and choose your title wisely.

The other major hindsight moment I am having at the moment is in regards to the King’s clothing. I used to hear it from my friends who were mothering girls that getting them dressed in the morning was next to impossible. They either wanted to wear princess dresses, dress like Beyonce (god help us) or it took 3 hours to pick out their outfits so that they were perfectly color coordinated (or clashed to perfection). I certainly never thought the King would be the kind of kid to be picky about what he wore. But of course, at the moment, it takes us about 45 minutes of negotiating in the morning to get clothes on his body. One point of contention is that he wants to wear pajamas everywhere – if I end up raising Hugh Hefner I will be very disheartened.

The other problem is that despite giving him a few choices so that he can feel in control of his decisions (as the experts suggest) he somehow finds a way to circumvent even that. At the moment, despite the fact that we finally are seeing some amazing weather, he only wants to wear heavy thick jumpers (sweaters for you Yanks). I can’t say I find this surprising, as I’m sure he thought that by living in England, he was locked in a five year Game of Thrones winter. So currently, I get him dressed after a 45-minute summit meeting negotiated by the UN and then of course he furtively sneaks upstairs, builds a tower of things enabling him to open the top dresser drawer and pick out the heaviest jumper he can find. So my hindsight moment (and advice to all you perspective parents out there) is perhaps to buy ten shirts and pants in all the same color so that dressing himself seems downright boring. Or hell, I’ll just buy a uniform that resembles an airline steward and make him think that this is what everyone wears. I’m thinking the Amish do not have this dressing problem in their households. Blue smock, black smock. Voila, done!

You see, hindsight, clearly 20/20...although, if hindsight was foolproof, we’d eventually get everything right, would we not? Then again, I think that by screwing up on a weekly basis, I’m merely proving to the King – like any good model parent - that parenting is like life, learn from your mistakes and never kid yourself that you’ve got it all figured out. 

Happy Tuesday.