Last night at dinner I must have been looking pretty beat, because Abbey said, "Mom, do you like being a grown-up?" I told her that I actually do like it - I was an adult even as a kid so I have gotten used to it - sad, huh!
Anyway, Abbey's response to my answer was pretty indicative of how old her parents are. She said, "I don't want to be a grown-up, because that's when everything is stiff and I can't run."
Brett quickly assured her that being a grown-up didn't necessarily mean that her body would quit working and that SHE would be able to run for a long time, but part of me (probably the stiff non-running part) wanted to interrupt him and say, "Oh, just tell her the truth . . . . and let her appreciate her youthful flexibility while she still has it."
Actually, I think Abbey has a great chance of being as flexible as this bus stop stretcher above when she is a grandma. My sweet daughter's constant expenditure of energy reminds me of the energizer bunny. She won't run out of juice until her last breath.
Me on the other hand . . . . It is just a good thing that my mind is so flexible and quick to make up for my prematurely aged bones! Ha! Ha! You have probably heard of Oprah's self-test you can take to determine your body's true age, factoring into account your lifestyle, eating habits, exercise routines, etc. I've never dared take that test. I'm too afraid it would tell me that I should already be planning my funeral! You would think that doing Pilates three times and walking 6 - 9 miles a week would keep a grandma like me pliable and stretchy, but it is difficult to fight the diabetic monster. Nonetheless, I keep doing it, as futile as it may feel sometimes. What does that Dylan Thomas poem say? "Do not go gentle into that good night. . . . . rage, rage against the dying of the light." Yes, aging can truly cause a lot of rage, but holding up the light to our children is worth the fight, worth the ever increasing daily maintenance, and worth the forced smile in the face of yet another workout session.