…I feel OLD!
I’m not going to put a number to how old I feel because I’m sure there are readers out there who are that age and would be highly offended that I referred to their number as old. None the less, I have been feeling so old lately.
We took Anthony school shopping this weekend the same as we have done every weekend before the start of school for 6 years now. This year, however, was different. First, he didn’t even glance at the character themed back packs or lunch boxes, not even a sideways glance, he went right to the solid color, big kid ones. Second, his school list required college ruled paper, not wide-ruled paper. Logically I get that this is just a transition requiring the kids to write in cursive using smaller letters, but I will admit I pouted out my lower lip just a tad as we passed the kindergarten tri-lined paper and had to put something labeled “college” into the cart. Lastly, and this one actually had me, a non-sentimental person, choked up a bit. His school list did not include crayons. No crayons! Markers, highlighters, colored pens, but no crayons. Apparently, 5th graders are too big to color with crayons in school. I had to throw a box into the cart anyways; I just couldn’t fathom back-to-school shopping without crayons.
A 5th grader! I’m the mom of a 5th grader! He still kisses me several times a day and randomly tells me he loves me, but, he wouldn’t hold my hand while we were shopping, he just gave me the eye roll when I reached for his hand. He plugs his ears and closes his eyes at any kissy-face scenes on TV. You know what that means? It’s the pre-curser to being interested in the kissy-faced scenes. When did he get so big? Do I really have to take him to 5th grade on Thursday? Can't I just take him back to kindergarden?
Said 5th grader is also the pre-curser to my other ‘I feel old’ moment that happened last week. To set this up, I have to mention that while we were on our vacation I found these cool suckers for the kids as a treat. They had LED lights in them and flashed fun colors. I bought them because I thought they’d be fun entertainment for driving at night. I was right, except for one fact, the colors I bought were 2 blue and 1 red. Can you picture it yet? Brad was driving 80 mph down the highway in Texas at 8pm at night with flashing red and blue lights in the back of our car. Yea, not so smart on my part, but the kids thought it was hilarious. Anthony in particular became fixated with the idea of being pulled over for speeding. He has asked every driver for the last two weeks if they’ve ever been pulled over for speeding. Proudly, most of us have been able to say that we have not been pulled over for speeding in many years.
Untill last Friday that is.
I had just dropped Anthony off at my parents’ house for him to spend the night and was rushing home to finish preparations for a birthday party I was hosting. I saw the cop; he was coming at me in the opposite lane, just past the stop sign. I knew I was speeding, I immediately slowed down hoping that he wouldn’t notice given he was driving not parked. In my rearview mirror I watched him pull over and wait for traffic to pass. I went thru the stop sign and just as I passed the intersection, he pulled out, flipped on his lights, and came after me. I knew I was busted! This is not about my stupidity in speeding on a street notorious for speed traps; this is about the cop himself. He parked behind me and sauntered up to my window. He was 19! I swear! Well, ok, maybe not 19, but he was not an older man with distinguished grey hair and an out of date handle bar mustache. He was a young kid! To make matters worse? He called me Ma’am! “License and registration please, Ma’am.” Not that I’m one for ever trying to wink my way out of a ticket but if I had been so inclined this was absolutly not the sinario for that to work. Here I was, a 30 something mom with two kids in the back seat, my hair in a greasy sweat-streaked ponytail, a ratted tank top and gym shorts looking at a young, virile, 20-something cop. I might as well have had a walker sitting in the passenger seat. Knowing I had no chance of charming this ‘kid’ I took the bolder rout that can only come with age and just asked him flat out if there was any way he could just give me a warning. After making me sweat it out for 5 min’s, he did come back with a written warning, thankfully. I would have been more grateful had he not used the “ma’am” again. It just made me cringe, blush in what were probably patchy red splotches (as opposed to the flushed, sexy blush of youth) and thank him with my head hung low.
I had just dropped Anthony off at my parents’ house for him to spend the night and was rushing home to finish preparations for a birthday party I was hosting. I saw the cop; he was coming at me in the opposite lane, just past the stop sign. I knew I was speeding, I immediately slowed down hoping that he wouldn’t notice given he was driving not parked. In my rearview mirror I watched him pull over and wait for traffic to pass. I went thru the stop sign and just as I passed the intersection, he pulled out, flipped on his lights, and came after me. I knew I was busted! This is not about my stupidity in speeding on a street notorious for speed traps; this is about the cop himself. He parked behind me and sauntered up to my window. He was 19! I swear! Well, ok, maybe not 19, but he was not an older man with distinguished grey hair and an out of date handle bar mustache. He was a young kid! To make matters worse? He called me Ma’am! “License and registration please, Ma’am.” Not that I’m one for ever trying to wink my way out of a ticket but if I had been so inclined this was absolutly not the sinario for that to work. Here I was, a 30 something mom with two kids in the back seat, my hair in a greasy sweat-streaked ponytail, a ratted tank top and gym shorts looking at a young, virile, 20-something cop. I might as well have had a walker sitting in the passenger seat. Knowing I had no chance of charming this ‘kid’ I took the bolder rout that can only come with age and just asked him flat out if there was any way he could just give me a warning. After making me sweat it out for 5 min’s, he did come back with a written warning, thankfully. I would have been more grateful had he not used the “ma’am” again. It just made me cringe, blush in what were probably patchy red splotches (as opposed to the flushed, sexy blush of youth) and thank him with my head hung low.
I promptly called Anthony and asked him if he knew what a “jinks” was. Did he know what it meant to jinks someone? I reminded him of his obsessive questioning lately about being pulled over. Before I could even explain, he busted out laughing. “You got pulled over for speeding didn’t you! Ha, Ha, Ha!”
Ok, maybe for that I will drop him off at 5th grade. 5th grade boot camp!
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