Monday, August 11, 2008

...and then there was the time that I got old...

It's been coming on for a while now. Little signs. Hints that "aging" applied to me. Most recently, we bought a minivan. That pretty much sealed the deal. Not that (for a minivan) it's not fine, it's just that my "hip" factor took a serious dive. Even the "new car smell" wasn't comforting. Not like my white Camry was so edgy, it just wasn't made to tote around multiple kids, swimming gear, the stroller, and groceries all at the same time. It's kind of like driving around a big, mobile billboard that screams "Hey, look at me! I'm totally old! SUCH a mom, right here!" All my minivan-driving mommy friends threw around "convenient" and "roomy" and "great to travel in." "You'll love it" they all promised. But, it was like turning 30 all over again.

30. Thirty. Treinta. Trente. I'd never actually thought I'd make it to thirty. Not that I thought something bad would happen to me, I just never actually pictured being 30. It's like you cross some invisible threshold. All of a sudden you start hearing things like "lower metabolism" and "cholesterol testing". I started noticing wrinkles on my face that I swear were not there the day before. Especially when my eyebrows go up in surprise that I have wrinkles---that's really when they show. And the white hairs that are in stark contrast to my almost black hair? They went and got buddies and now there are too many to comfortably pluck out in two minutes.

On the 4th of July this year, our city's Freedom Festival featured several live bands over the two-day celebration, including Candlebox and Gin Blossoms. J and I high-fived over the fact that such hot bands were coming (picture "rock on" hands and some gentle head banging). Then, with a sudden start, we realized these were hot bands, not they are hot bands. Were hot "our day." We have a "day" now.

But, never mind that the check out lady totally didn't bother to check my ID when the scanner registered that I was buying rubber cement. Never mind that I look at the restaurant hostesses and wonder if they can drive yet. Never mind that I look for my music in the "Easy Listening" section at Best Buy. It's okay that I look forward to bed at about the same time my night used to begin. So what if that "stow and go" seating is really nice and "convenient". I'm 30...for a couple more months, anyway. Old enough to have a little of the wisdom life has to offer, old enough to be taken seriously. And, really, people--being 'old' feels sooo much younger than I ever thought it would.

3 love notes:

Bryner Family said...

I feel ya. :) I actually love my minivan and didn't feel too old when I got it. But when the hairstylist shows you ways to "cover up the white hairs" by parting your hair differently, it hits you hard. I get online and listen to my streaming Yahoo music and hardly recognize anything. It's been years since I actually listened to the radio or a CD without someone interrupting with High School Musical or Dora or other kid song requests. :) I went grocery shopping with my nephew Hunter when he visited and I thought it was so funny that the cashier acted like he was my son. How funny that he thought I could be the mother of an almost 11 year old. Oh wait, his mom is MY AGE! I COULD be that old. Ugh. But really I'm enjoying my 30's and you're right. It's not as old as I used to think it was. :)

Liam's Mom - Gina said...

Amen! That last paragraph is totally what I've been feeling this year. I'll be 30 on the 25th of this month and I am so glad NOT to be in my 20's anymore. Maybe people WILL take me seriously from now on.

(I don't think I could get used to a minivan either. No matter how cool the other moms say they are.)

Amy R said...

I don't know what you're talking about; I'm about to turn 29 and that's the age thousands of women claim to be for much of their life. 29 must be young. Or else it's just that it's not 30. But whatever the case, I'm one of the lucky who can claim to be 29 and it won't be a lie.

But really I feel OLD. When I was working at Club Fitness with my teenage coworkers and my young blonde boss named Emily, well, I have possibly never felt more irrelevant in my life.