You know, I have always figured that having kids aged you. It starts with the toll on your body, swollen ankles, backaches, stretch marks… A once semi-flat tummy now looks more like a deflated balloon… but it’s all worth it. Or so I keep telling myself over and over. Like a meditation chant. Sometimes like a prayer.
I expected finding the occasional grey hair. A new wrinkle under my eyes. Another sleepless night because the kid is sick, can’t sleep or his internet is out and wakes me at midnight to see if it’s ok that he re-boot the router. All these things add to the brain fog that envelopes a parent, making remembering where you put your car keys or if you closed the garage door when you left the house next to impossible. Much like fitting into my pre-pregnancy jeans ever again.
But then the aging comes unexpectedly, too. Right of out left field – WHAP!!! Right between the eyes. Hello, old age, let’s be friends since being enemies doesn’t seem to be in my best interest.
The other night, Will, Boy and I had settled in to watch a movie. We try to do this together, a couple of times a week, or so. We like to let Boy pick the flick, within reason. He has gotten into the Star Trek old series, so he can be more like Papa. So, we had made an executive decision to watch some of the Old Series movies. We skipped the Motion Picture – because, dude. Seriously. No body wants to see that. He loved Wrath of Khan, and the Search for Spock. He asked for The Voyage Home and we found that we could stream it on Amazon with our Prime Membership, so decision made, everyone sprawled on the furniture and we settled in for a couple of hours of Sci-fi fun.
Boy was riveted, Will was surfing his iPad (he’s more of a Star Wars fan, the traitorous wretch) and I was quoting along, for I had seen the movie about eleventy-hundred times. There comes a spot where Kirk and Gillian are eating pizza and his communicator starts beeping. Gillian asks Kirk, “What is that?” “What’s what?”, Kirk responds. “You have a pocket pager. Are you a doctor?”
Boy turns to me with his innocent, doe eyes and asks, “Mom, what’s a pocket pager?”
I died a little, right then. I really did.