And then one day you find
Ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run
You missed the starting gun.
–“Time,” Pink Floyd
Or is it time that’s tripping over me? Hard to say. Whichever the case may be, I’m losing track of time. And lots of it. The easiest way to tell just how much time you’ve lost track of is to look at kids.
Take for instance that two of my dear friends, made grandmothers at an insanely young age, now have grandchildren that are each ONE YEAR OLD!!! (Little B in July and the MonkeyBaby just last week.)
The eldest of my oldest friends (she being the first one to get married and have a baby out of our high school gang of eight) is now mother to a 21-YEAR-OLD!!! I did the math and nearly went into cardiac arrest. 21? How the hell did that happen?
One of my cousin’s kids just turned 9. (She was born a week to the day of 9/11.) The youngest of my cousins’ kids, the-not-so-baby “baby” of the group? She’ll be FIVE this week!
And today … Well, not only is it the first day of fall, meaning that yet another summer has ended (one that I don’t even remember when it started), but it also means that another of my friend’s children is marking yet another milestone.
There’s a picture on a shelf in the family room of a rather surprised me (someone turned my own camera on me) holding an infant. He is small and dark-haired and unbelievably beautiful. But that was 1994.
Fast forward to today … He’s not so small (in fact, he’s quite tall!), still dark-haired, incredibly handsome and quite the jock. He is certainly not an infant! Where did this young man come from all of a sudden? Seems like yesterday he was pining for a golden retriever -- and got a baby brother instead.
Happy birthday, J! Good luck with your license. And try not to turn your mother gray.
A non-professional,faux home improvement blog dedicated to the insane yet diligent do-it-yourselfer,thoroughly peppered with random views and thoughts from me
4 comments:
The Pink Floyed lyric that hanunts me still and, in my youth, I'd always hoped would serve as a warning was:
Did you exchange
a walk on part in the war,
for a lead role in a cage?
Sadly, I don't think I've done a very good job at either staying in the war or avoiding the cage.
If only I could remember these lessons for the next go-round.
The Pink Floyd lyric that haunts me still, and in my youth I'd always hoped would serve as a warning, was:
Did you exchange
a walk-on part in the war
for a lead role in a cage?
Sadly, I haven't done a very good job of staying in the war or out of the cage.
"Money
Get away
You get a good job with good pay and you're okay
Money
It's a gas
Grab that cash with both hands and make a stash
New car, caviar, four star daydream
Think I'll buy me a football team"
Those were actually the lyrics the birthday boy was playing as he prepared for his big date with the DMV this morning. As I listened my thoughts wondered back to 1983 when a local televison station did a segment on a collection of high school girls working at the now defunct Famous-Barr department store. How ironic my son would be listening to this many years later. I countered with the Beatles "you say it's your birthday". My baby has an old soul for music and I'm the luckiest Mom on earth :) Now how do I combat that gray hair!
cd, you're very luck indeed.
NV, feel free to delete that first comment. I remember this glitch. Didn't realize it had double posted. Well, I wouldn't since it doesn't post immediately.
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