Hey, I can see my lunch from here!

Last night while having a conversation with my friend The Doc, he forced me to realize the fact that I am, indeed.... AGING. Me. I'm sorry, Doc, you must be mistaken. There is no way I'm getting older, nuh-uh, no way. I mean, I'm wearing a Muppets t-shirt and Karate-Kid esque headband (don't ask. No, really.)! You can try and remind me all you want that I'm sliding down the southern half of my thirties, careening towards middle age, but I will reject that assertation and replace it with this picture of a trout.

I don't feel like I'm supposed to be in my mid-thirties. Maybe that's the problem, that a piece of me hasn't caught on (or caught up) to where I "should" be. But my body is trying on a near constant basis to remind me to get with the damned program and take another vitamin. Or maybe some Boniva... because Sally Field says it's good stuff and M'LYNN DOESN'T LIE.

What do you mean I'm iron deficient????

(Oh God, I just made a Steel Magnolia's reference.... someone, a hipster injection, STAT!)

It really doesn't matter, though, what my mind thinks because my BODY is all to happy to remind me that I am, indeed, edging a little further away from the joys of youth each and every day. It's the knees with their Snap! Crackle! Pop! symphony EACH. AND . EVERY. MORNING. It's the squint as I try to read the fine print on a box at work only to have to cart over that damned ladder to climb up and take a closer look. And today... today it was the roller coasters.

I've never done spinny rides. My heart goes out to those of you who have ridden on the "Hurricane" style rides with me before. But roller coasters? Please, child. One of the few times I'll tell you that the faster, the better. I LOVE roller coasters. Love them. Front car, back car, doesn't matter. My kids share the love, and today... today was a rite of passage for the Z Monkey.

Ah, my Z, my little adrenaline junky. When he turned four he announced that, due to his advanced age, "I guess I ride roller coasters now." One by one he ticked off the rides as he grew... Spinning Dragons at 42". Mamba and Prowler at 48". Next stop: 54" and Patriot. Upside down, spiral looping, free hanging Patriot. And sure enough, on this our first visit of the 2013 season, Z hit not just 54", but 56". Would he shatter the current "youngest in the family to go upside down"? mark held by his brother at 8 years, 6 months?
First he needed to think on it. So big brother and I bounded up the stairs while Z stayed back with Dad. First coaster of the season! Starting it off right with the big one, right out of the hatch! No hands, flying through the air... so, so good. And as we ran down the stairs to the waiting area I may have mentioned something about him being glad that he had a Mom that was still a coaster junkie... oh, my youth! My fabulous youth!

Next came Mamba ("Hey, I can see my house from hereeeee---yeaaaaaagh!") which has always been Z's favorite. Because what 7 year old doesn't like to be thrown down a 205 foot hill at 70 mph? Then we looked at dinosaurs. Then the boys did that "stick to the wall while the floor drops out" ride. I hate that thing. How can an adult do that and NOT end up with a colossal wedgie? And after all of that fun, Z made his decision (well, he made the decision that he was not letting his big brother do something alone with Dad). He was riding.

And if he was riding, I was riding. A glorious family experience!
And when he wanted to ride again immediately after, we rode again! Togetherness!

And when he wanted to ride AGAIN immediately after round two, my husband had the good sense to sit out. I did too, until I heard the words "front row".... aaaannnd then I could actually FEEL every bit of common sense that I possess leaving my body. Just exiting through my nostrils as I said "OKAY!"
Look, I am the woman who once rode Wildfire at Silver Dollar City FOURTEEN TIMES IN A ROW WITHOUT GETTING OFF. What a fabulous day THAT was! Ride the ride! Pull in! No one in line! Adorable ragamuffin in 1880s Ozark garb shrugs and asks you if you want to go again? Is there any other answer but YES? Not when you're 25. But thirty five?

It's eleven pm as I write this and I am STILL SOMEWHAT NAUSEOUS.

The kid? The kid did great. Says he's riding EVERY roller coaster up front now. No fear. Bigger, faster, stronger, better, all of that. The mom? Apparently the mom needs to remember that while 35 isn't exactly old.... well, it might not be such a bad idea to listen to the old body every once in a while, especially when zero gravity is involved. Moderation. Moderation is KEY.

Anyone in the mood for Cedar Point?

Honored

A quick note- I wrote this originally back in February, but for some reason it didn't post. So I'm posting it now. Why? Because I can. 

I'm a pretty lucky parent most of the time. My kids are pretty well behaved (well, except when around each other for more than a few minutes at a time. But we haven't had bloodshed in, oh, minutes!), they're pretty well liked, and they do pretty well in school. And that last part? That's pretty important to us. It's not so much the grades, but that they are performing at their own personal best. Sometimes it can be a struggle, beating back the procrastination beast, letting a few things slide for a while. It's a lesson our 13 year old is beginning to learn as advanced classes and a social life battle for supremacy. Somehow, though, he made it work, and here we are again at honor roll awards night. 

Secretly I'm just in it for the awesome bumper stickers... HOW I LOVE THOSE BUMPER STICKERS!

I made him dress up this year, which pretty much turned me into a mix of Stalin and your choice of North Korean leaders. He almost had a reprieve when we discovered not a single Mom-Approved item from HIS closet was going to work, unless the Urkel look has come into fashion. 

I should have known. He's taller than my 5'8" these days. But discovering that he and his dad have the same inseam was a little much for me. Upside? No last minute shopping. That was an upside for both of us. His father owns enough button downs and pairs of dress slacks to outfit the entire seventh grade. His closet space is twice that of mine, for crying out loud! OK, I'd better stop before I start retribution shopping at Gap.com

These nighttime assemblies move pretty fast, given the amount of kids they go through. Sixth and seventh grade go in the evening. Eighth grade gets breakfast. I wonder if they'd switch that to a lovely after-school snack for my sake? I don't do well with mornings. Ah, well, the things we do for our kids....

"Maybe if I don't look the principal directly in the eye I can stay under his radar
and avoid turning into stone..."

Nine semesters in a row of straight A's, Kid. Not too shabby... not too shabby at all.