I have always hated the thought of getting old. Even when I was 13, I specifically remember saying that I was going to have plastic surgery when I "got old" and that I wanted to die at 35 because I would be "too old to do anything". Some things change, while others remain the same. Being older than 35, and in the best physical shape of my life, has changed my adolescent thoughts of what is "too old"...at the same time, being older than 35 also validates the fact that I don't want to get old. I hate wrinkles. I hate fighting gravity to keep my butt up where it should be. I spend a lot of time and money trying to look my best and not look like a frumpy old "mom". I feel like everyday, I'm fighting a losing battle against time. I do what I can, but believe me...no one is mistaking me for a twenty something!
I took my daughter to her first concert almost a week ago. I didn't really feel up to it physically being only 2 weeks after surgery. My sister was more than willing to take her for me and they would've had fun, but I wanted to be the one to have that first experience with her. As I stood there waiting to buy her a concert t shirt..I thought about how long it had been since I had been to a concert. It all felt so unfamiliar. I mean what happened to holding up a lighter during the concert? Now they sell flashing glow sticks! I looked around and saw all the girls...excited...squealing...wearing homemade shirts expressing their "love" for their favorite Jonas brother. When I looked over at my daughter smiling...her braces reminding me that my baby is growing up...I suddenly felt so old.
Where did the time go? When did I become middle aged? When did my every move become so "embarrassing" (according to my 12 yr old)??? You hear "old people" say that their life has passed in the blink of an eye...that they still feel young on the inside...which seems unbelievable when looking at the outside. We are told to take time to stop and "smell the roses"...to enjoy every moment...because time is fleeting. I always thought it was a crock...a bunch of crap...but I had a moment where time stopped for me standing there...surrounded by shiny braces and high pitched screams.
I realized that time is more precious than any of us think...that it will slip away from you if you are not careful. We should hold onto the "moments" in life as if we are trying to carry water in our hands. It will always pass...go away...eventually slip through our fingers...but we should carefully hold onto it for as long as possible...long enough to make memories. I realized that I can't stop time...I can't stay young forever...and wrinkles are inevitable. I'll probably always be embarrassing to my children...and I will never be 25 again...but I will always have the memories that I make.
The music started and all the girls' painful screams pierced through my ears. Everyone stood...even us "old" parents. My daughter started jumping...hands in the air...dancing with a sense of hesitation and the awkwardness that comes with being 12. I stayed still for a moment...knowing that any movement or enjoyment on my part would be humiliating to my daughter. I couldn't take it anymore! I threw my hands up and started to dance right next to her...waiting for her reproach. Just a short while earlier, she was correcting me for pretty much anything I was doing...and she wasn't being nice about it. I braced myself for some harsh words...but to my surprise...she turned and smiled and jumped a little higher and danced with a little more confidence. For a brief moment...I was young again...and together...we made a memory.