But It Beats The Alternative


Hold up on this aging stuff.

Do you realize when my children’s children graduate from college I will be…


At least older.

Right now I am young.  Strong.  Invincible (not really, I’m just saying that part for emphasis.)    I can hold all of my children’s children in one arm and fight off the goonies with the other arm if I must.  Or carry the diaper bag.

But when they are about to venture off in to adulthood and jobs and check out the world on their own?

I won’t be able to do the things they do.

Grant it, I will be phenominally prepared to deal with life at whatever age I am. But when they are 20, 22, 25, 30….   I want to be that age too!

I knooooooooooooooooow I can’t be.  I understand the aging process, the cycle of life process.

But it just occurred to me that I have an awful lot to do with them.  If I can at least maintain my current physical abilities I can hang with them.  I can do the things I want to do with them.

They are going to do so much, go so many places, meet so many people.   Surely they want Mamo to be involved in every aspect of their lives.   Right?

Who doesn’t want their grandma, grandmother, nanna, with them for everything?

Don’t answer that.

I remember the moments I became a parent.   I remember the moments I became a Mamo.   I remember the moments of celebration.   I remember believing life goes on forever now.   Because I have kids.  Who have kids.  It did not occur to me that I get older, like they do.