The 30 year difference…


It’s sorta infuriating, really. No matter how hard I try to remain young, hip, and cool, I am getting old. Period. The fact I actually said “hip and cool” means I am completely out of it, doesn’t it? Yeah, that’s what I feared. Well, anyway, it is what it is. Actually, I am okay with it. What gets me is not so much being older than I was, it’s the things I now seem to completely miss.

We were walking across the front lawn to the van. The frigid 6 degree air had turned the previously fluffy snowed in front yard into a sheet of hard rock. I was sticking to the sidewalk and making my way around, trying not to get too snowy so I didn’t have a ton of snow entering my van (read OLD here). My son, however, and my girls were finding it vastly adventurous and were playing the “invisible” game. The unspoken rules were thus: whoever makes it to the van without leaving footprints – wins. The girls weighed more than Drake, so they were denting it a bit here and there, but Drake was easily held by the upper crust of the frozen tundra that was our lawn. I did not find this game amusing simply because I was in an adult like hurry. Drake quickly bored of the game and began to “monster” stomp his way to the van, stepping as hard as he could to make his boots go all the way through and swallow up each step. As any 7 year old boy would, the monster sound effects accompanied each stomp and what began as a quick trek to the van became a monster vs sister chase that ended with screaming, two falls in the snow, and much extra white stuff in my van.

I’d like to say I sweetly smiled at the time, noticed the joy on my children’s faces, and reveled in the moment. Sadly that idea didn’t hit me till now, frankly, as I sit writing this. No, at the time the 30 year age difference got in the way. I scolded them for covering themselves in snow when we were in a hurry, while we were getting into the van of all places, and was then frustrated for the duration of the ride as they argued about who started it and how it wasn’t their fault they were snowy.

Aww man- I sound like such a fuddy duddy. I sound like my MOM or my DAD! Lighten up Christi! I always said I would be a cool parent, that I would let my kids just have fun and play – and I would be a fun mom. Then I added 30 years to my age. I no longer see the frozen front lawn as an antarctic adventure with abominable snowmen. I just see a cold, dreary, FREEZING annoyance and wish spring were here. I miss the joy in the crusty snow and the beauty of the fluffy stuff when I am in a hurry and forget to leave enough time to warm up the van and chip off the blanket of ice covering it.

Well, it was bound to happen. As long as I can look around and realize I am missing something, I am still okay. It’s when I cease to notice that my perspective is NOT the only one that I will need to worry. Kids keep you on your toes.
So thanks, Mr. Drake, my boy, for putting your ole mom back on track… and letting me see the adventure in crossing my own front yard

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