For some people it's buying a minivan, for others it's gaining the soccer mom or dad title, and for even more it's resigning yourself to the mom haircut.
You guys know what I'm talking about, right?
I'm talking about that one moment, that one thing that when finally accepted means that you have officially lost all of your youth and are now old. People fight whatever they consider that moment to be for years in a desperate attempt to not have to face the reality that is aging.
I refuse to buy an umbrella.
An umbrella people. AN UMBRELLA.
I know, I know, I never claimed to be normal, but do you know who
I refuse to buy an umbrella.
That is my moment people, I have not yet lost my youth simply based on the fact that I do not own an umbrella.
(Shush you people and your logical arguments, DON'T RUIN THIS
You see, I already feel old. I'll admit it, my kids make me feel old.
There, I said it. (I will be awaiting the flaming comments of Internet land.)
Really though, I'm just calling it like I feel it. It's kind of hard not to feel old when your kid is already well underway in her own childhood. Love my kids, wouldn't trade them for the world, but they make me feel old.
The other day a friend found, in her basement, a brand new (albeit twenty year old), sing-along book that came with a cassette tape. She told me "I know you won't use the tape but maybe your Girl Child would use the book." I took it home, handed the Girl Child the whole thing, and then a few minutes later noticed that she was looking at the tape as if I had just handed her a book written in Chinese.
"Do you know what that is?" I asked her.
"Yea" she replied confidently. "It's tape!"
"How did you know that" I exclaimed, honestly a little shocked.
With that she grabbed the actual tape film and yanked it right out of the cassette cartridge so fast that it actually made a whizzing noise. "It was really nice of them to give us some tape in case a page in the book ripped!" she exclaimed.
I FELT VERY, VERY, OLD.
Do you see what they do to me?
Today my daughter came running into my room and asked me in an alarmed tone of voice "do you know what time it is!?" Because I am a dork I replied exuberantly "yes I do, it's Hammer time!!"
With that the boy child chimed in with "and drill time!"
OLD. VERY, VERY, OLD.
So you see now why I simply cannot buy an umbrella? I might feel old, but I'm not actually
But...I also don't particularly like to get wet. My hair is like a chia pet, just add water and *poof* it grows. I'm not one of those girls that comes in from the rain looking like a Victoria's Secret model in a shower photo shoot; t-shirt clinging perfectly to my body, hair glistening with water. Nope, I come in looking like what I would assume shoving Screech from "Saved By The Bell" into a swimming pool might look like; clothes clinging to my scrawny body while sporting a scary white person afro. Yet because I am still in
All was cool until a few days later when it came time to walk the girl child to school and it was pouring rain. (We live so close that even in the rain it's not worth driving)
"Wear my raincoat mommy!" said the girl child. "I have two, you wear one and I will wear the other one!"
"Uh yea thanks, but for like ten different reasons, no."
"Wear it mommy! It will keep you dry! Just wear it mommy!!" was repeated to me no less than fifteen times while I was in the middle of the crazy chaos that is my house in the mornings. In between dressing the boy child and packing lunches I was getting a little bit perturbed with her relentless insistence that I wear her raincoat, until I finally said quite sternly "I am not wearing your raincoat because it won't fit!"
Undeterred she continued on. "It will fit mommy! It will fit! Just try it mommy! Just try it on mommy, it will fit!"
For the love of....
"Girl child, it is not going to fit and you need to stop pestering me so that I can get us all out of here on time."
"But mommy, it WILL fit, it will! I know it will! Can you just try it on mommy? Mommy will you just try it on?"
Oh my gosh kid, gimme a break.
"Fine! If I try on the coat and it doesn't fit, will you leave me alone?" I gasped back at her.
"Ok! But if it does fit, you wear when we walk to school ok mommy?"
As I was trying to untangle a Ziploc baggie from a lunch box zipper I vaguely remember muttering "yea sure whatever" to the child who was intently listening for my answer.
Let's just say that pretending as if I hadn't lost my youth that morning wasn't going to be an issue, because......
That was a pretty classy walk to school. You know what though? It's still not an umbrella.
Really though, we have all either had or are currently fighting the "I've lost my youth" moment. What was it for you? What "umbrella" moment is hanging over your head or did you finally resign and give into? I know I'm not the only one, so come on people, fess up!