It's been creeping up on me. But yesterday, it smacked me in the face.
I dropped my once-tiny-baby daughter, who is now 5-foot 6-inches tall, off at high school yesterday. She spent the day "shadowing" a student at the high school we're considering for her for next year.
How could this be?
It seems like about 2 weeks ago I just found out I was pregnant. And just last week when she was packing up her pink wheel-around book bag (because she was too little to carry it on her back!) for first grade.
Now, it's struck me that in four years and a few months, she'll be headed off to college.
Then (my mind moves quickly through the math here) two years after that, BabyD will be packing up and moving on, too.
And--just to throw fuel on the fire of my emotional roller coaster--LittleD was having a fashion crisis. (Of course. After all, this was--sort of--her first day as a high schooler.) Her white cardigan just wasn't working with her T-shirt. She needed something a little less dressy. So, she borrowed my white hoodie.
Did you get that?
MY white hoodie.
What a shocker.
Up until now, I thought I wore "old lady clothes"...
Since when is she big enough to wear my clothes beyond a game of Playing House Dress Up in the basement? This was the real deal--in public.
And, somehow, I think this might be just the first of what's to come.
So, true to my anal disposition, I proceeded to give her my Rules for wearing my stuff.
Rule #1: No Sharpies.
(If you have a teenager--and I can vouch that this isn't just mine--there seems
to be some abnormal obsession/fascination with Sharpies and Duck Tape these days.
And you can't bleach out Sharpie.)Rule #2: No stretching out the sleeves.
Rule #3: This is only a loan. I want it back by 5:30 in the same, or better, condition!
Do you think I covered all the essentials?
She better not even try to borrow my boots. I have at least 8 rules for shoes...
So, there I was, at 7:40 am dropping off my 13 year-old baby daughter, who is wearing my clothes, with a bunch of strange, older teenagers and unknown teachers. She was pretty excited (now that her wardrobe crisis was resolved to her satisfaction). Until, that is, it was time to open the car door.
Suddenly, my Big Girl reverted to Mama's Baby:
She asked me to walk her inside.(Ha! I won! She still needs me!)
So I did. But she had to get her good-bye hug in the shadows of a fairly dark parking lot.
Yeah, I did my duty and embarrassed her when we got inside.
(What else did she expect???)
When one of her friends (one of my favorites) showed up to shadow, too, and hugged LittleD, I demanded one, too. I got a killer eye-roll and "Mooommmm!" from my daughter.
So, I left my oldest in a strange place and headed to the office.
Trying to figure out how to channel the emotions of a mid-life crisis.
What should I do now?
If I was a man, I could have an affair, buy a sports car and get obsessed with working out.
But, somehow, those options aren't morally, financially and logistically appealing to me.
So I'm weighing my other options. And I'm open to suggestions.
#1: Eat my way through this: While I enjoy food (and all kinds of it), this doesn't seem to be a wise option, because it will only make me miserable later when I go for an annual check up and the doctor suggests I lose a little weight. I'm clinging to the fact that I'm still in my healthy weight zone for my height, age and gender.
#2: Go on a crash diet so I can fit into my old jeans: This sounds like too much work (and I like eating too much). And going on an exercise binge would require sweating. I. Hate. To. Sweat. Besides, my old jeans are high-waisted "mom jeans", so I really shouldn't go there. (If full disclosure, I did get rid of them.)
#3: Cry on my girlfriends' shoulders: I need to work on this one. When The Husband decided to embark on his mid-life crisis a couple of years ago, I tried this one. Only my entire support system utterly and completely failed me. So, I'm recruiting new friends now. I'm just trying not to look to desperate in the process.
#4: Take up drinking: I know wine is the "in" drink for women my age, but I just can't do it. I've tried a few different wines, but I just can't get past that old fruit taste. (Sorry to my bloggy pal who works for the Wine Grape Growers.) And, it's not just wine. I can't stand the
#5: Get a tattoo: Hepatitis. 'Nuff said.
#6: Take a spa day: This one might be do-able. If I could find the time. And if I could justify the cost and overcome the guilt of being so indulgent for a few hours. (Yeah, I got issues.)
#7: Dye my hair blond: This one makes me laugh out loud. The Husband suggested it. (And I'm not totally sure, by his tone, if he meant it or not--which is the scariest part.)
#8: Start dressing like I'm 21 again: I don't know what that means, because I was 21 in the early 90s. And, while a some of the retro stuff is back in, I'm not sure I could accurately interpret that era and apply it to today. Or, if I dressed like a 2011 21-year-old, I'm afraid I would frighten pets and small children with the cellulite that would be peaking out of the short skirts causing bulges in my jeggings. I think, as a public service, I'll skip this one.
Those are the options I've come up with so far. Not such a great list. So, I'm welcoming any suggestions.