I’m old
Well readers, it’s 13 days until my son marries his sweetheart, and besides not having the shoes that I’ll wear, I’m ready for this shindig. Having said that, I’ve done a lot of reflection lately, and I’ve come to this realization.
I’m old.
This isn’t even because some of the middle schoolers at work are calling me “Grandma Fairchild,” which they claim is only because they want me to bring homemade cookies in for science class, and “that’s what grandmas would do,” hence the name. I gave them boys a hard look and said, “so, me not being a grandma yet, but just called that because of a lame – o cookie reason and not the obvious ‘gray hair’ reason, is going to get me to bring you in a treat? I don’t think so.” Whatever, they know I love them like my own kids, and I’ll totally bring them a goodie one of these days.
I digress.
Seriously! This wedding brings me closer to being a real grandma and further away from the drunken bonfire nights of my younger years. Am I going to sit there and be okay with that? Let me think about this, do I have a vote? Not really.
Are my first 50 years dissolving away like a sugar in a cup of tea? And PS, even that analogy makes me old…who even drinks tea unless they’re old as dirt? Kidding…I love my tea drinkers out there.
Also, the fact that next month, my darling Grace graduates college and my spit fire Levi graduates high school, isn’t helping. These chickies are leaving the nest at an astounding rate! The other day I was cleaning the house, cursing under my breath as I cleaned up after the kids who still lived at home and started to think. I stood there for a minute, sweating and out of breath like a chubby mom who’s been spiffing all day, and with the empty granola box on the floor, literally next to the garbage can, I realized two things. First off, when they are out on their own, I’m coming to their house, walking through their home with muddy shoes and throwing garbage “next to” the garbage can and leaving towels and dirty socks on the bathroom floor. Oh, also spilling shampoo in the bathtub and not cleaning it up. That right there is a serious chubby lady hazard. I got in the shower and thought I was going to break my other hip.
Even though I face messes on the daily, have words with my kids sometimes when I’m wanting them to do their chores, and having them expect me to drop whatever I’m doing to help them, I love those turkeys. And they’re not all bad all the time…they have a lot of good qualities. Also, I inundate them with Facebook reels and TikToks that only a chubby old lady would laugh at, so I guess were even.
Moral of the story? I can’t remember, I’m old and forgetful. Kidding. But I will say, love on your kids…you’ll only hav’em for 18 years. Isn’t that crazy to think about?
Fairchild “what in the world did I just step in? TEEEEDDDD!
Get down here and clean up your mess! Farmgirl
Suzanne Fairchild is a freelance writer who lives on a farm in southwest Minnesota with her husband and children. She can be reached at rmf@itctel.com.
I’m old.
This isn’t even because some of the middle schoolers at work are calling me “Grandma Fairchild,” which they claim is only because they want me to bring homemade cookies in for science class, and “that’s what grandmas would do,” hence the name. I gave them boys a hard look and said, “so, me not being a grandma yet, but just called that because of a lame – o cookie reason and not the obvious ‘gray hair’ reason, is going to get me to bring you in a treat? I don’t think so.” Whatever, they know I love them like my own kids, and I’ll totally bring them a goodie one of these days.
I digress.
Seriously! This wedding brings me closer to being a real grandma and further away from the drunken bonfire nights of my younger years. Am I going to sit there and be okay with that? Let me think about this, do I have a vote? Not really.
Are my first 50 years dissolving away like a sugar in a cup of tea? And PS, even that analogy makes me old…who even drinks tea unless they’re old as dirt? Kidding…I love my tea drinkers out there.
Also, the fact that next month, my darling Grace graduates college and my spit fire Levi graduates high school, isn’t helping. These chickies are leaving the nest at an astounding rate! The other day I was cleaning the house, cursing under my breath as I cleaned up after the kids who still lived at home and started to think. I stood there for a minute, sweating and out of breath like a chubby mom who’s been spiffing all day, and with the empty granola box on the floor, literally next to the garbage can, I realized two things. First off, when they are out on their own, I’m coming to their house, walking through their home with muddy shoes and throwing garbage “next to” the garbage can and leaving towels and dirty socks on the bathroom floor. Oh, also spilling shampoo in the bathtub and not cleaning it up. That right there is a serious chubby lady hazard. I got in the shower and thought I was going to break my other hip.
Even though I face messes on the daily, have words with my kids sometimes when I’m wanting them to do their chores, and having them expect me to drop whatever I’m doing to help them, I love those turkeys. And they’re not all bad all the time…they have a lot of good qualities. Also, I inundate them with Facebook reels and TikToks that only a chubby old lady would laugh at, so I guess were even.
Moral of the story? I can’t remember, I’m old and forgetful. Kidding. But I will say, love on your kids…you’ll only hav’em for 18 years. Isn’t that crazy to think about?
Fairchild “what in the world did I just step in? TEEEEDDDD!
Get down here and clean up your mess! Farmgirl
Suzanne Fairchild is a freelance writer who lives on a farm in southwest Minnesota with her husband and children. She can be reached at rmf@itctel.com.