Clear signs that I’m getting old…

* I get mad when my paper isn’t on the doorstep by 7:00 AM

* I scan the obituaries in said paper

* I get excited that the grocery store has Super-Double-Coupons

* The subject line in the e-mails I send to my friends no longer say things like “party” or “BYOB”, but instead say things like, “Fiber”, “Shredded Wheat” and “Lactose Intolerant”

* In 10 years, my daughter will be nineteen

* I know the phone number to my pharmacy by heart

* My older sister is a grandmother

* I turn on MTV and say things like, “What is this crap?”

* After playing on the floor with my kids, I make odd, and quite audible, noises when I get up

* And lastly, because I can relate to this…

Three ladies were discussing the travails of getting older. One said, “Sometimes I catch myself with a jar of mayonnaise in my hand while standing in front of the refrigerator. I can’t remember whether I need to put it away, or start making a sandwich.”

The second lady chimed in with, “Sometimes I find myself on the landing of the stairs and can’t remember whether I was on my way up, or on my way down.”

The third one responded, “Well, ladies, I’m glad I don’t have that problem…knock on wood.” Then she rapped her knuckles on the table and said, “That must be the door, I’ll get it!”

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When I was dropping off my son at pre-school this morning, he pointed to a heavy-set lady, with white hair and a red hat. When he sticks that finger toward someone, I know something bad is about to be said, but I couldn’t hurry him along despite my best efforts.

Now he’s starting to give multiple put-downs, because as he was pointing at this woman, he said, “Look Mom! There’s Santa’s brother!”

I can’t decide what’s worse…being insulted by a five year old, getting called a man, or being told that you resemble a jolly old elf.

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After that, we’ll do a shot sip some cognac…

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But, then what? There are so many things to see! Where to start?!

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Most likely, I’ll just show her where I live…

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No, I’m at Target a lot, but this is my stinking rich neighbor’s house.

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Though, if Bossy doesn’t come soon, we may be living here…

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…which someone recently redecorated with this lovely dent.

Oh, I just can’t wait! We’ll laugh, and talk, and not talk, and eat soup and snow peas. And, when she leaves I think Bossy will say, “I wouldn’t want to live there, but it’s a lovely place to visit”.

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I have been known to throw the occasional cuss word around. Not cussing for the sake of cussing, but for particular circumstances such as falling down the steps, or dropping a plate, or the many, many times when my daughter was a baby and she would have such explosive bowel movements that we would find brown tar all the way up to her neck.

I do try to keep myself in check though, especially around my kids. I have taken to using words such as, ‘Dang’ and ‘Poo’. They’re tame enough that I think I may have heard them in Disney movies.

I also try very, very hard not to use the word, ‘stupid’. I even try to monitor the shows my kids watch, so there aren’t characters or people calling each other stupid. To me, it’s just a nasty, derogatory word and my five year old son does enough to embarrass me. I don’t need him calling people stupid to boot.

But, last week my husband bought this computer game that was beyond frustrating for me. You have to toss this marble across a gargantuan abyss onto a flat surface. That’s it. But, I either couldn’t get my marble across the abyss, or it would fly through the air right past the flat surface, or it would land on the flat surface only to roll off. I could not get it, and as much as I wanted to let some choice words fly right along with that marble, I didn’t.

Though I did keep saying, over and over, something about the game and the marble being stupid.

Of course, the next time my son got a chance to play, he immediately began to say stuff about the ‘stupid game’ and the ‘stupid marble’. I quickly told him not to say it anymore, that I shouldn’t have said it either, because it’s just not nice.

And now the little rascal is trying to draw it out of me, apparently to get me in trouble with myself. Under the guise of improving his knowledge, he just asked me, “Hey Mom, what rhymes with Cupid?”

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