Forever Young

There comes a point in your life when you’re officially an adult. Suddenly, you’re old enough to vote, drink, and engage in other adult activities. Suddenly, people expect you to be repsonsible, serious… a grown up. We get taller, we get older. But do we ever really grow up?

 In some ways we grow up. We have families, we get married, divorced, but for the most part, we still have the same problems that we did when we were fifteen. No matter how much we grow taller, grow older, we are still forever stumbling, forever wondering, forever young.

—— Meredith Grey——-

I have always thought that 30 was ancient. I was a teenager then. And I thought that once you get married and have kids, then your life falls into a routine where there are certain expectations for you to meet. Certain obligations, restrictions and responsibilities. And I thought you stop growing and hoping and dreaming.

Boy was I wrong! Now that I am in my 30’s, I don’t feel like I’m any different than I was in my teenage years. True, I know better now and there are certain things that opened my eyes and came to realizations about but I don’t feel any different.

Although my body tells otherwise - the weight that can easily slide off with just a simple diet and exercise now takes harder work, the 20/20 vision now gets eyeglasses for “night driving”, the flawless skin now gets slathered with moisturizers, the Glamour, Allure and beauty/fashion magazines now gets replaced with Better Homes and Gardens, Domino and Family Circle magazines, the perfume I used to love now gets replaced with the smell of sanitizer and baby lotion and the endless parties of drinking now gets replaced with family time and wholesome parties. But deep inside, I am still the same old 15 year old who sings at the top of her lungs in the shower, dances when no one else is watching and tries on models clothes I’m wearing to the next party.

Now I know that life does not stop when you turn a certain age. Life goes on. And you keep learning new things, experiencing new sensations and dreaming dreams you’ve never had back when you were younger. Life goes on. And you are forever young.

I Wear My Eyeglasses At Night

In the 5 stages of Loss after denial, the last stage of which comes acceptance. In my case, it’s my loss of perfect vision and the need to wear eyeglasses. It all became apparent after I cannot read the street signs from a distance. And at night, I had to squint when I drive. Reading, which I love has become a chore and a headache, literally. And so, after reluctantly accepting the fact that maybe, just maybe, I really need to have my eyes checked, did I go to the Optometrist. As expected, he declared that my right eye is near sighted. Which would have been okay had I not been right eye dominant. My left eye was perfectly 20/20 except for what appeared to be old scars. What? My left eye has scars? Did you have an injury? the doctor asked. I shook my head no. What about in your childhood? I have no idea. Note to self: call my Mom in FL. The doctor then proceeded to tell me how I need to have eyeglasses and that instead of wearing bifocals, I should wear what they call progressive. The top part of the glasses was for distant vision - so I would be able to read street signs, the middle part whenever I’m at the computer and the lower part for reading. The doctor did advise me that it would feel weird the first few weeks after I’ve had the glasses and I might even be dizzy. Great! I am looking forward to it.

Choosing the eyeglasses itself meant I had to take a vote from all 3 boys - FishermanHubs and the 2 kids. After narrowing down the choices to 2 and being deadlocked (gee, you would think we were voting for the next Mayor), we finally decided on my new glasses. We had to take votes from the assistants and the staff too. My oldest son C wears glasses and FishermanHubs wears reading glasses (which he refuses to wear in public) so it is only youngest son G who has 20/20 vision.

It has been 2 weeks now and after a near collision with a car while I was driving under the bridge in the rain, I am still unsure if I will ever get used to this whole eyeglass-wearing thing.

Bits and Pieces

There was something about the way my son C was talking yesterday that made me realize that he’s 11 years old now. It wasn’t the content or the essence of what he was saying. It was the way he said it - his voice, his intonation, his expression, his gestures. He acted almost like a teenager. I didn’t know how to react - would i be sad because he’s growing up and has lost some of the “innocence” or should i be happy because he is becoming his own person, developing his sense of identity. In the end i decided on both. Motherhood is overwhelming at times. Not to mention how age is creeping up on me. I feel so old these days. I feel like i am sprouting up gray hairs every day. Wrinkles are making an appearance on my face. The bags under my eyes are getting puffier and the tummy pouch is getting harder and harder to get rid of by the minute. And so yeah, i feel old. And your son showing signs of aging kind of reminds you of that even more. My husband still insists on having another baby. “We produce good looking babies” as if it’s the latest product on the market - “newer! better packaging! new look!” I refuse to budge. The thought of bringing a baby in this world once again where i have to battle with strollers and car seats is very intimidating. Heck, I can’t even get my niece out of her car seat! Both my sons don’t want another baby brother or sister. “Too much work” they said. 

I am still going through life changes. It’s a long and winding road. But i have taken the time to pause and think otherwise it’ll drive me crazy. Still busy, but still blogging. I have a lot of plans - better looking blog, a cooking blog,regular contributions to the pmn ezine (sorry Raq and Dexie!), books to read. places to go. poems to write. stories to tell. I have a lot of them. There’s a lot of me wanting to go out and share. Until then, these are bits and pieces of me.

A year older. And yet

We’ve all had it, a time when you wished you can take back the words that you said and the things that transpired just kept repeating over and over in your head. I had one of those days last week and it was a helluva day! I wanted to kick myself for saying some things I shouldn’t have and for not saying some things that I should have. Human nature keeps us from being perfect and there are times when we are even more human as days go by. More mistakes on top of mistakes and we are buried way deeper than we wanted. Like an ostrich burying his head on the sand, I felt shame and uncertainty. It went on for days as I wallowed in regret and self-pity.

Fast forward this week and I am okay again.

Looking back, I should be less impulsive and be more insightful. Getting a year older, that’s what I would have expected. But am I really wiser, more mature now that I am older? I don’t feel older, that’s for sure. I still gravitate towards “young” movies and tastes that were otherwise marketed towards the younger generation.

I wonder - when will my real age make sense? There was a show on Oprah last week that showed older women who said that they are more empowered and better after age 40. Should I wait until then?

I see fine lines, laugh lines and oh no! wrinkes on my face. I can’t lose weight as quickly, my metabolism is slowing down. I celebrated my birthday quietly - less noise makes for discretion. We celebrated it unconventionally - window shopping (although we did buy some Yankee candles). We ate at a buffet place - less waiting time for the food to be cooked and no need to make decisions as to what to order, just heap up your plate and go. In all, it was an ordinary day. I didn’t expect much, just a quiet time with the family.

Life is moving on slowly. I wish I can let it pass quickly and yet - another year older?