Black Holes and Birthdays

 

Black hole illustration courtesy of Brookhaven National Laboratory.

My youngest turned 18 this past weekend. Yikes!

Christina’s milestone birthday jolted me. How can my baby be 18 when she was born only yesterday? There’s a problem with the time/space continuum. That’s the only explanation.

Not only that, my daughter Stephanie will be 25 in April, and my son, Joey, will hit the big 3-0 in March. Whaaat?

So now I’m certain the time/space continuum anomaly isn’t operating alone.  There’s also a black hole out there gulping entire decades in the flash of a hummingbird's wing. What is happening to the universe?

The real irony is that even if a method existed to induce that old black hole to regurgitate the time it’s stolen, I wouldn’t do it—and not just because that sounds really icky. I’m so in love with my kids the way they are today, right this minute, that no matter how wonderful they were way back when, it isn’t worth the risk of losing what exists right now.  ‘Cause right now is terrific.

I admit to missing the tromping about of little feet. I miss the sticky kisses and the sweaty hugs, the munchkin voices and the silly games and songs. But, oh . . . what I have today!

Long conversations about life and love and dreams; about taxes and gas prices and college tuition; the weather, good books, spear fishing, and the pros and cons of tattoos. The hugs are frequent but not sweaty; the kisses are still spontaneous and sweet, but no longer sticky.  I continue to laugh at the things my kids say, but now it is because of their sparkling wit rather than their misinterpretation of circumstances.

A pretty sweet deal, and one over which I’d do well not to quibble.

So the time/space continuum and its voracious companion, the black hole, continue to feast on days and years. That’s okay. While they’re digesting the past, I’m engaged in a banquet, feasting on the here and now.  And it tastes delicious.

See you next for Book Blurb Friday!

Lisa

Belly Button Piercing and Porn Shops, Oh My!

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On, now, to the belly button and porn shop. *sigh* The things we mothers do for our offspring never ceases to amaze me.

For my daughter Christina's 17th birthday she wanted only two things:  contact lenses and a pierced belly button. Her big sis, Stephanie, offered to cover the piercing; hubby and I sprang for the contacts.

After researching piercing shops, Stephanie found a reputable place with three locations and strict adherence to sterile and legal practices. So far, so good.

At nine o'clock on a Friday night Christina and a friend, Stephanie and I pulled into the parking lot.  Limited space forced me to park my sensible and matronly Ford 500 sedan not in front of the piercing shop, but further down the way in front of . . .*sigh*. . . a porn shop.  Location, location, location.  More than one odd look came my way when I exited my vehicle accompanied by three young adults, two of them obviously teenagers. The fact that Stephanie's two miniature Dachshunds came along for the ride completed our ducks-out-of-water scenario.

I confess to never being that close to a porn shop before. I don't know if I should brag about my moral fortitude or be embarrassed by my naivete.  I might have peeked in the window, maybe, a little, as I rushed the kids past at lightning speed. ("Keep moving, keep moving, nothing to see here, nothing at all, go, go, go!")  I'll post about my snooping another time. . .after a few margaritas. Maybe.

A pleasant guy named John pierced my daughter's belly. His jokes eased her jitters and settled my frantic mommy nerves. The skin just above her navel was first sanitized, then clamped and sanitized a second time.  His latex clad hands took expert hold of a needle the size of a roofing nail and he pushed it by hand---no quick piercing gun like those used for ear piercing---through the skin.  One word to describe the process.  EEEWWW!!!

It took longer to fill out the paperwork prior to the piercing than to get the piercing itself. After the grand event we oohed and aahed at Christina's newly studded navel and then I speed-walked everyone back to Flossie Ford. ("Hurry, hurry, get in, get in, don't look to the right, hurry, hurry, hurry!")

This experience taught me several things. First, I do not want to have a roofing nail shoved through my skin. Ever.  Second, the next time I have to park in front of a porn shop, I'm going to pretend I did it on purpose so strangers will not point and laugh. Third, bonding with my daughters rocks, even when it includes a large tattooed man wielding roofing nails and the unexpected presence of a porn shop. 

Til next time -
Lisa

Clip art courtesy of Webweaver.nu

Tales of Time

We have a big birthday weekend coming up. My daughter, Stephanie, will be 22 on Friday, and my hubby will be 51 on Saturday. Stephanie is meeting a group of friends to party the night away. Joe wants to pretend he does not have a birthday at all (yeah, fat chance--like I’m going to pass up the opportunity for cake.)

The thing is, as we age, our priorities shift. Time and how we spend it is more profound after 40. Take exercise, for example. I can’t speak for anyone else, but when I was in my twenties exercise was 90 minutes of hard aerobics and weightlifting (where in the blazes did I ever find 90 minutes to exercise?) In my thirties it was jogging (30 minutes, tops.) At 48, exercise requires multi-tasking: I take the dogs for a walk at the park and watch them frolic with other dogs. I do visit the treadmill once in a while, but you know, if it really wanted to hold my attention it would offer me hot coffee and a honey bun.

Another casualty of the years: makeup. I wear a lot less now, but back in the day just applying lipstick was a major event. I used to line my lips, apply lipstick, blot, powder, and apply a final coat. That stuff would stay on through a nuclear holocaust. When my youngest daughter was born the delivery room nurses were astounded that I made it through labor and delivery with my lipstick still magazine perfect. Fifteen years have passed and I’m lucky now if I even remember to apply tinted lip balm before I rush out the door.

What sorts of things have changed for you? What things do you do differently now that you are older? If you could go back in years would you spend more or less time on your lipstick, exercise, or partying? Leave me a comment if you have the time. I’d love to know how your views have shape-shifted with age and wisdom.

As to our upcoming birthday weekend, I say: Let them eat cake! That's what I'm gonna do.

Til next time,
Lisa