Not your Granny's Cranny!
Sharing my Learns & Feels along the way, of all things Life, Love and Niche & Cranny!
![]() It happened. I blinked. And now my baby boy has started his senior year of high school. Suddenly I am 82 years old. Overnight and without warning, I am a very old woman. I have a full head of gray hair, my skin is sagging and the glasses I once wore only to read, sit permanently upon my face and host a much stronger, thicker lens. Or at least that is the way that this Feels. It ALL feels this way at 2:57 in the morning. Ah, my new, nightly acquaintance. Mr. Two Fifty Seven A.M. No one tells you this will happen. They tell you it will fly by- this year of First Lasts. They tell you how quickly the high school years will pass. They tell you to buckle up and to hold on. Don't blink, soak it all in, and take lots of pictures. (what?) All of these things. In actuality, it begins earlier than senior year. Well-intended, good parents that you've been seeing at Open House for the past twelve years, start giving you that nodding, sympathetic glance now... that "I see you" look. And you know exactly what they're thinking; You're Next. Just you wait. It's as if they're super excited to have you joining the club. The club that you don't recall signing up for Way Back When. When you first learned that you were pregnant. And when you had no good idea about things like Anxiety, Night Sweats, and the kind of time travel that age progresses you in the middle of the night during your child's senior year of high school. No one ever really tells you how suffocating, alarming, frightening and terrorizing those middle of the night panic attacks are. And they sure as hell don't mention the little old woman. No one tells you about the very palpable marker of time that is: Becoming the Parent of a High School Senior. I imagine that turning the big 5-0 will feel less measurable. Surely it will feel less gripping, less startling, less terrifying. Maybe perhaps because I am not fifty yet. In fact, I am a relatively young forty-seven year old. Please do not make me brag about recently getting carded at a Lionel Richie concert. Oh yes I did! All. Night. Long. My head is not covered in gray hair, and thankfully, happily, I am still able to go weeks on a $7 root touch up kit from Target. And those reading glasses of mine, are actually a super cute designer brand that I splurged on recently. Why? Because that is exactly what you do when you're the mom of a high school senior and literally just last week, you were the one heading to prom and preparing to graduate! All of that. All of this graceful sounding, rolling into Middle Age is not at all how this feels. That is not how this feels in the middle of the night. That is not how this feels at 2:57 a.m., when my handsome husband is sleeping peacefully beside me and both of our children are still comfortably sleeping under this same roof. Instead it feels as if my life is almost over and that I may not even be here for Christmas. It feels like everything that has always mattered most for the past 17.75 years is coming to an end and with it, my whole world. It feels as though instead of saving every last cent for college, I should be coffin shopping. No one tells you this part. So I am going to tell you. I am going to document it here because I have to and need to... and because someone out there needs to know they aren't alone when they experience these same feelings. I'm going to lay it all out here in my safe place. All of the Scary-Ugly. All of the Weepy-Panicky. All of the My-life-is-over, Glass-half-empty! The stinky-smelly and the cloudy overcast. The very same that moved into my psyche sometime last year before Christmas and before my son was even halfway through his junior year. I will lay out the Joys and Ups too. The pure pride and happiness that makes you feel like you're ten feet tall. So, Welcome! Welcome to my anxiety-ridden, sleep deprived, photo-taking, Facebook posting, mindless blogging Year of First Lasts! I've been quelling my Mommy Anxiety softly since that first day of pre-school when I stood outside the classroom door and listened to him wail. Before that, a hospital room, 18 hours old and they checked his vitals... and I checked Out. Chewed some nurses ass. And so far, I am drug-free. Any yet, I am absolutely not opposed to calling in bigger guns than Cabernet or Chardonnay. You will be among the first to know... so stay tuned. Finally, and for the record, I don't need the friendly reminders from the well-intended, card holding members of The Club. It is nothing like the reminder you get for your annual dental exam. The postcard in the box. Besides, my teeth are still intact. Unless it's 2:57 in the morning, and in which case- they are sitting bedside, soaking away softly, in their warm, fizzy solution.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorMom. Wife. Interior Stylist. Creative Soul. Coffee Addict. Wine Enthusiast. Lover of Life. Child of God. Archives
September 2019
Categories |