Exhibit A: The concert.
I am a huge fan of concerts and had been waiting for this one for a while. I had new blingy jeans, my make-up done, and my bling belt and boots on. I was ready to not be a mom. I was ready to live it up. I was ready to stay up past ten! But as we entered the ampitheater I noticed that the other spectators coming to the concert were young...as in should be getting their braces on, hello puberty young. (I may be over exaggerating a bit...but they were at least 10-15 years younger than me!). It was all Daisy Dukes, plaid tied up shirts, and way too much makeup. It was sipping a beer that your 21-year old boyfriend bought you because you were too young to legally purchase the strawberita...and it made me cringe. Looking around at the hoard of people on the lawn I realized...this isn't my place anymore. I used to live it up with the rest of them but as I looked around I felt like I was better suited for a Saturday soccer game than a night of drinking, dancing, and being free. I liked the concert, don't get me wrong, but my normal vibe wasn't there...it was like I was drinking a flat soda...the taste was there but there was something missing.
Exhibit B: When is nap time?
I used to not care about the clock. I would start getting ready to go out at 8 pm, be at the bar by 9:30 and would stay until close...or later. Then maybe we would hit up an after party, or drive a friend home from someone's house, or go to work at the univerisity dairy farm (which was followed by going to work at the university horse farm.). At the least we would find ourselves at Denny's or Jimmy Johns at three in the morning. We didn't care. We would stalk Winston the bagel guy even if it meant getting off the couch and putting our jeans back on. Even after college I didn't care about a clock. I would stay up and cook for friends who would come home from the bar after closing, heck, for a bit I closed the bar on a regular basis when I bartended. But lately I feel...tired. ALL THE TIME! I envy people who can nap...or stay up past ten. Last weekend we went to one the Chicago Garth Brooks concerts...that started at 10:30 at night. I was a zombie...none of my selfies looked right because my eyes were saggy and bloodshot because they should have been inspecting the back of my eyelids by that time of night and I kept looking at my phone to check the time because "how long is this concert going to go?" kept ringing through my head (which annoyed me beyond belief because it was one of the best concerts I have ever been to!). I need my sleep! I used to not care. I used to be able to operate on less than five hours of sleep...not anymore. Sleep is my friend...sleep is good...sleep is essential...and it sucks!
Exhibit C: Former students are getting married...
I am all for a beautiful wedding day. I love the dress, the cake, the dancing, and the hope that you feel watching a couple begin their journey together in marriage. What I don't enjoy however, is when I can remember the day that they walked down a different isle, the graduation isle. (Or even worse, when they sat in my classroom as a wide-eyed freshman.) At my latest student wedding I had the opportunity to catch up with many former students. They reminisced about class stories or FFA trips or "that time you kicked me out of class." And as much as I loved catching up, I couldn't help but stand there and think, "when did I become a dinosaur?" As my former football player/hunter/top 10 favorite student asked if I needed a drink and then went to refill his Jack and coke I felt the need to run screaming into the night "I'm not old!" But I am...
There have been many instances in the last few years that not-so-subtly remind me that this pony isn't the runner she used to be, that I should now be concerned with life-insurance, funerals, and mini-vans (which I will never be!), and that I desperately wish I could go back and spend a weekend in my early twenties again. But, alas, that's the way that this snarky, annoying, beast Age likes it, you spend your youth wishing to be older and you spend the rest of your life trying to be younger...
You're NOT welcome...
No comments:
Post a Comment