In the past you may have read my entries of fear about being the parent of an adult child. I was terrified. I have to say, its not so bad. Our oldest is 18 and hasn't lived here for several months now. I was afraid I wouldn't cope well or be able to function but that just hasn't been the case. Actually, I kinda like it. Don't get me wrong, I still miss her but things have changed. Since she has moved out she has undergone a miraculous transition. She actually misses me too! I speak with her everyday at least once on the phone, because she has called me! She looks forward to coming to visit and wants to spend time with me. I guess I'm not so retarded after all.
Moving out on her own has brought new realizations for her. Things like, food is expensive and $200 is not a realistic price for a dress. She calls me the other night and asks what I'm having for dinner so I tell her. There is silence for a moment on the other end of the phone and I ask if she is OK. She says "Yeah, I'm just remembering the taste of that. No matter how hard I try I cant get these pretzels to taste like that." I ask if the pretzels are her dinner and she confirms that they are. I cant help but stifle a giggle remembering the days of that age where we lived off of ramen noodles and popcorn. When I ask her if she needs money she says no. She has grown to be quite independent.
It still amazes me sometimes, this is the same child who would $20 me to death. The same child who thought I was a horrible parent for not buying $25 steaks on a regular basis, the very same child who thought $100 was not an outrageous amount for me to spend for her to have a designer pair of tennis shoes every 3 months. She tells me about how she saved money here and budgeted there. I guess maybe she did learn something. I watch her in how she conducts her life and cant help but be proud. She goes to work and gives her all, studies hard in school and makes time for her friends. She has really grown up to be an amazing young woman and somehow, somewhere I played a part in that.
June 22, 2007
June 19, 2007
A New Experience
Life is about the experience. At least that's the thought that creeps into your mind when you get to my age. The experiences you have are what shape you as a person. I happen to like who i am as a person and tend to enjoy the ride my experiences have brought to me thus far. Of course, there are some I'm not real fond of but over all i don't guess i can complain. There was one thing i had wanted to experience for quite some time, yet being a chicken shit i always talked myself out of it. I would think "I really want to do this." then think some more to conclude "Nah, maybe not." Last Saturday night i decided, what the hell. I'm not going to think about it, I'm just going to go. No, I'm not talking about anything as extreme as sky diving. It's actually pretty common, but it involves something I'm not real fond of....Needles. Yes, a woman who has given birth 3 times fears something as silly as a needle.
So as we arrive at the location and i pick out what it is i want, my stomach starts turning. I know if i can get in the room and get started i wont stop, we are not going to have me partially marked here, I'm way to hard headed for that. They introduce me to who will be doing the artwork and all i can do is chuckle to myself. He cant be much older than my own child. Is his attention span even long enough to focus on this task? 15 years ago i probably would have batted my eyes thinking he is absolutely precious, now all i can do is close my eyes and hope his fine motor skills are fully formed.
There i sit on an arm rest, my feet planted firmly in a chair, pants undone, bent over holding my knees. The young man in charge of my experience was precious and tried making jokes to ease my tension.
"So, I'm going to be your first, huh?" He says. I'm thinking that probably happened around the time you were born, of course i keep that thought to myself. He is in charge of the needle you know.
"Yes, i suppose you are. Be gentle." See, i can joke back. Even though this conversation seems very odd considering I'm thinking he is almost close enough in age to have come from my body. I'm finding myself having to hold back asking the questions you would ask your kid. Things like "Did you use soap?", "Don't forget your ears. Did you wash them?"
Thank God that about the time he complemented my underwear he stuck that damn needle in my back. I couldn't do anything more than hold my breath. It wasn't really that bad but the idea of that needle chugging along my back made me nervous as hell. Not to mention i wasn't sure of his attention span and didn't want to offer any distraction. It wasn't until he hit my tailbone i began to think this was probably the dumbest idea i have had in a long time. Now i am not going to lie to you people, it hurt like hell. Was it as bad as giving birth? No! But it was not comfortable. It was less than an hour when he informed me we were all done. I'm thinking, "Oh, shit. He has forgotten some. I knew he was to young to focus for any length of time." I look in the mirror to confirm my suspicion. Nope, he got it all and damn if it doesn't look good. I could hug this kid.
I'm feeling pretty proud of myself when I walk out of there. So I do what any grown woman of my age would do.
I call my mom. (giggle)
So as we arrive at the location and i pick out what it is i want, my stomach starts turning. I know if i can get in the room and get started i wont stop, we are not going to have me partially marked here, I'm way to hard headed for that. They introduce me to who will be doing the artwork and all i can do is chuckle to myself. He cant be much older than my own child. Is his attention span even long enough to focus on this task? 15 years ago i probably would have batted my eyes thinking he is absolutely precious, now all i can do is close my eyes and hope his fine motor skills are fully formed.
There i sit on an arm rest, my feet planted firmly in a chair, pants undone, bent over holding my knees. The young man in charge of my experience was precious and tried making jokes to ease my tension.
"So, I'm going to be your first, huh?" He says. I'm thinking that probably happened around the time you were born, of course i keep that thought to myself. He is in charge of the needle you know.
"Yes, i suppose you are. Be gentle." See, i can joke back. Even though this conversation seems very odd considering I'm thinking he is almost close enough in age to have come from my body. I'm finding myself having to hold back asking the questions you would ask your kid. Things like "Did you use soap?", "Don't forget your ears. Did you wash them?"
Thank God that about the time he complemented my underwear he stuck that damn needle in my back. I couldn't do anything more than hold my breath. It wasn't really that bad but the idea of that needle chugging along my back made me nervous as hell. Not to mention i wasn't sure of his attention span and didn't want to offer any distraction. It wasn't until he hit my tailbone i began to think this was probably the dumbest idea i have had in a long time. Now i am not going to lie to you people, it hurt like hell. Was it as bad as giving birth? No! But it was not comfortable. It was less than an hour when he informed me we were all done. I'm thinking, "Oh, shit. He has forgotten some. I knew he was to young to focus for any length of time." I look in the mirror to confirm my suspicion. Nope, he got it all and damn if it doesn't look good. I could hug this kid.
I'm feeling pretty proud of myself when I walk out of there. So I do what any grown woman of my age would do.
I call my mom. (giggle)
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