If Soule Mama has it...

Faux Mama wants it!

So, I got it!

Age and Being a Relative

I have recently been on a short diatribe about an incident at Storyland in NH. Essentially, I was mistaken for a "senior citizen" followed by disbelief that I was only 48.   The thing is, this is not an isolated incident.  On more than one occasion, I have been mistaken for my child's grandparent, my partner's parent and given a significant senior discount at Friendly's.

A friend of mine sent me a link to a CNN article that reflected the writer's process around being referred to as her child's grandparent.  The writer, a black woman, also wrote of being asked if she was the nanny.  I was asked once if I was auntie.  This query, coming after apparently being sized up as a gay woman who apparently could not possibly be an actual parent.

Being a grandmother in and of itself is not the issue.  It is the assumptive license taken by strangers.  Granted, not everyone has a child when they are 45. But not everyone has one when they are 16 either. The first time I was asked if I had any grandchildren, I was 35.  I was in shock.  But my cousin, by the time she was 35 was a grandmother 3 times over.  Of course, she had her first child at 16 and he had his at 19 (twins, more than one mother).

I think there is a disconnect between my perceived age and my self perceived age. I am not proud of my discomfort with the changes incurred with maturing.  After all, I am the same person who  wrote a paper in college stating "I am looking forward to the day when I will have a leathered, wizened visage". I appreciate my father-in-law, who used to introduce Maisie as his "little sister".  Of course, in his family his uncle is 17 years younger than his next sibling.

The best approach one gentleman took was asking if Maisie and I were related. When I said yes, he said he could see the family resemblance.  Suave.

Here are three things the wee one has said this summer that has made my heart sing with pride (and hope):

I wish it were snowing right now; what is Wal-Mart?; and to Mimi who was sitting with her, Come and see the carrots we froze for the winter.

Wedding weekend

the dancing queen 

hurry up and wait

One of my best and oldest friends got married this weekend.  I was the officiant. It was wonderful.  One of my favorite parts was the crowd dancing to Hava Nagila and hoisting my friend and her bride high in the air-made even more poignant by the vision of one of the bride's ex-husband exuberantly dancing and holding his ex-wife high in the air in total celebration.

I Stood up to Two Bullies...Why Do I Feel So Badly About It?

I was walking up the rocks from the water, toward the stairs to camp.  There were two loud and raucous boys catching crabs in the tide pools.  I heard one say  "Look at that big, fat lady".  Then more loudly and more taunting, "Look at her big butt.".  I was about 20 feet away from them.  I stopped, turned and addressed them in my most authoritative, adult voice, "Shut up."  I said.  I turned and continued toward the stairs.  The bigger one (10-ish) said "He said it,  pointing to his compatriot.  I replied, " I don't care who said it.  Don't say it all.  It's rude." I turned and came up the stairs.

I relayed the particulars of the exchange with great grammie.  She said, "Good.  They need to be spoken to."  I asked my partner if she heard any of the verbal fisticuffs.  She had not.  When she heard the particulars, she agreed with her grandmother.  I was expecting some leeway to be garnered the boys because of their age, but a 10 year old bully is on his way to being an adult one.  And, I am not a fan of the term "shut up", but in this instance it seemed fitting, because 1)  it was something a 10 year old would get and 2) it was precisely what I wanted them to do.

I hope they have thought about the incident as much as I have and I hope they change their behavior.  At the very least, I hope the older one gets the courage to call the other one out for his behavior instead of waiting for someone else to do it.

Homesick

There are certain days and times of day, even, when I am SO wistful for the place I grew up.  Today, this week actually, has been one of these times.

This is the group I wouldn't mind being in a shipwreck/airplane crash survivlist scenario with...

My 30th high school reunion was last weekend. For years, in my mind, I would recall memories of people from school or events and often think"When I see them again I will ask about that". It's like a LONG vacation and then we will all be back at school.  Occasionally, I would have dreams about being back in highs school and it was always so real to me. As the reunion approached the dreams became less pleasant-I was dreaming of getting to the event and either everybody would be so old looking I didn't recognize them or the other way around-I was the only who had changed. This was the first reunion I had known about in the thirty years since we graduated, so I felt very strongly about attending it.  Thank goodness for Face Book, as I had reconnected with several of my classmates and schoolmates.

I returned from the Friday night portion of the reunion and shared with my partner some of the events and impressions of the evening.  I didn't really think more about it while waiting for Saturday night's dinner portion of the weekend. At one point, my spouse was telling one of my classmates about my comments of the night before regarding everyone "was so nice".  She heartily concurred with this assessment upon meeting them for a few hours and went on to say that "nice' was not an adjective she would use to describe her reunion we attended two years ago.

In the past week, I have had time to reflect on the reunion.  And I am still struck with the niceness, familiarity, comfort and ease of being with these "kids".