Love Street

Call Me Granny

One of the wonderful perks of being a stay at home mom is the casual dress. Not that I got super dressed up for work, but flip flops and tank tops it wasn't. I live in tank tops. And if I am home and we don't have company, I am bra-less. Yes...without a bra. I should have been a child of the 60's or 70's. I probably would have burned my bra, not out of protest for some womens' liberation cause, but in support of comfort. Yes, my bras are comfortable...but only as comfortable as under-wire can be.

Flip flop freedom was short-lived. After two months of fun in the flip-flop sun, my achilles began to ache. Then when I woke up in the morning, I could barely walk the first few steps because the bottom of my feet hurt so badly. Self diagnosis: plantars fasciitis. So off I went to the orthopedic shoe store, looking for shoes that would help my problem. Granny shoes, no doubt. I circle the shoe store looking for parking and settle for a space in the back of the building. I was walking to the store...sun in my face, wind in my hair, a sense of freedom surrounding me as I was winding down my first day off ....and wham!....rolled my ankle on a part of the pavement that was worn away. I stumbled, but caught myself, by OH MY GOSH! the pain was excruciating. I sat rocking on a retaining wall and it took me minutes to catch my breath. I could feel the swelling, but dammit, I needed those shoes because my feet were killing me. So I pressed on.

I spent the next 3 days on the couch, the next week after that at home because I could not walk the kids down the steps. A month later, it still hurts and it is still weak. My doc gave me anti inflammatories. I self medicated on old pain killers from past surgeries because I don't dare ask my doc for pain killers. She does not give them out. I have asked before and she has politely refused. How the hell did MJ get all his prescriptions when I can't get my doc to help me out when I have a legitimate need?

Anyway, at the young age of 40, I am the proud owner of sandals that are usually worn by women twice my age. My arches are supported, and I understand I should have relief soon. I can guarantee that Stacy and Clinton would barf if they saw them.

P.S. I took a picture of the hole I stepped in and I still plan to report it to the city.

40 More Years

They say that 40 is the new 30....I don't know. I have looked at some recent pictures of myself and have found a significant amount of lines/wrinkles around my eyes. I mean, significant. Compared to pictures taken just two years ago. My friend said it is because I have kids. Now, I would have expected my eyes to look worse a few years ago. If anything, I should look better, right? Happy as can be. Two great kids. A husband that is better than anyone I could have ever wished for...

It's just gravity, and aging. And all that sun in my young days. I would only use SPF 4 (which I don't think they even make anymore because it is basically a death wish) on my face because I wanted to fry to get that deep dark tan that comes afterward. Last week when we took the kids to the beach I was slathered with SPF 30 and wore a big hat to make sure I didn't get any sun. Note to self: the sun that reflects off of the water very strong, so reapply SPF even if you are shaded by a hat. My face burned a little bit and it gave me a sick feeling inside.

I feel the sense that I should be more focused on preservation. As evidenced by my recent search for eye wrinkle cream...and purchase of new moisturizer with higher SPF. I have also had Alzheimer's on my mind. My grandmother had it in the late 80's and eventually died from related complications. I have an increased risk because of my grandmother, and additional risk factors come from high blood pressure and plaque build up in the arteries (which I don't know that I have but I bet I am headed that way). Made me think twice before I grabbed the butter this last week. I need to go back to margarine. Damned HBO and their brilliant 4 part documentary on Alzheimer's. Now every time I forget something I am going to be wondering if I am showing signs.  

I think that my biggest fears about aging have to do with my kids. Yes, I go there. Will I live to see my kids get married? Will I live to see my grand children? Will I be the oldest mom at little league? Will my kids be embarrassed of me? Will I look like their grandparent? I can just see me trying to dress all hip so that Lily and Noah's friends don't think of me as being old.

Chances are, half of my life is behind me. And that is scary because it hasn't been that long. It took 40 years to find true joy, happiness and love. It took 40 years for me to get to the point where I love my life and who I am. And though I don't dwell on it (you may think otherwise because of the tone of this post), I have been thinking lately that I need to make an effort to make every day count. I need to enjoy every smile and laugh with my kids. I need to concentrate on being healthy so that I can enjoy the next 40 years. I need to make certain that my husband knows that I love and appreciate him more every day. And I need to be thankful for the wonderful life that is mine.