I made a bank deposit at the drive through the other day and drove away with both my deposit slip and the big pneumatic cylinder that they return the slip in. I didn't realize it until that evening when I looked over and wondered what the odd thing sitting on my passenger seat was. Oh.....
When I told my youngest daughter, Bess, about it the next morning, she just rolled her eyes and shook her head. If Alex, my oldest daughter, had been in the room, I'm pretty sure they would have exchanged one of their knowing glances--that irritating, conspiracy of youth look that says, "I think Mom is losing it."
I turned 60 this year and the girls seem to see it as some sort of milestone, although not necessarily a good one. I'm pretty sure they've started looking for signs of deterioration. And I don't doubt that they're finding them.
Not too long ago, for instance, I couldn't come up with my cat's name. Which is a little bit pathetic since her name is "Kitty." But, really, it was no big deal. I just used the generic call of, "Here kitty, kitty, kitty," and the cat came running. No harm, no foul so to speak.
My girls tend to see it differently though. They seem to think that forgetfulness is a bad thing. That it's tied up with aging. Or brain cells dying. Or Mom losing it. And so they look for signs.
I probably should just ignore them. But it's kind of got me worried that Alex may decide that she can't let my grandson Flynn ride in a car with me. Come to think of it... I've never actually driven him anywhere yet. And last summer when I offered to drive them home from St. Louis, Alex was quick to say that she wasn't the least bit tired even though she hadn't had a full night's sleep since Flynn arrived eight weeks earlier.
I think it might be time to sit down with the girls and explain to them that I'm okay. That I can still finish a crossword puzzle before either of them, name all of the finalists on Dancing With the Stars, read several books a week (even if I can't always remember the titles), and react in record time at seeing anything vaguely resembling a mouse scampering across the floor. And that car accident last winter? It was absolutely not my fault. Okay, I might bear a little responsibility for the broken back window in my sister's Explorer, but that other accident...I was faultless.
"Being able to text," I'll explain to them, "or having a phone with a keyboard, is not an appropriate test for competency."
"And a little forgetfulness at a bank drive through is not a sign of impending senility. After all, I did remember to get my deposit slip. It's right over....well, it's somewhere around here."
All those signs they think they're seeing--they're really just nothing.
When I was expecting Alex, I spent the entire nine months of my pregnancy embroidering a special hand made blanket for her. And then, on our very first outing, I set it on top of the car while buckling her in, forgot about it, and lost it forever somewhere along highway 40 in St. Louis. My guess is that it probably ended up right beside my half dozen gas caps that had the same fate. And these things happened while I was a young 30-something.
Surely the girls must remember me driving them to grade school and arriving with my coffee cup still on top of the car. How old was I then? A baby...no more than 37. And that was just the time the cup stayed on top. Who knows how many cups went flying off.
And what about that time that I wore two different shoes to the mall and shopped for 30 minutes before looking down and seeing one brown, one black, one flat, one with a little heel. I don't think I was even out of my 40's.
That lost library book that I finally found in the freezer....I was no more than 42 when I put it there. Using hand lotion instead of conditioner on my hair....I've done that fairly regularly for decades. Forgetting to put the eggs in the recipe...not all that unusual over my lifetime of cooking. And what about your Aunt Ellen? She was only in her 30's when she drove the carpool and remembered to pick up every child except her own daughter, who she left stranded at the grade school.
"So girls," I'll explain, "the next time I drive off with the bank's cylinder, or forget your name, or open up the freezer when I'm looking for my book, don't assume that I'm losing it. Because, believe me, I lost it a long time ago."
And by the way, if you don't see me when you're reading this and think I might have wandered off, don't worry. Flynn and I just went out for a little car ride.
When I told my youngest daughter, Bess, about it the next morning, she just rolled her eyes and shook her head. If Alex, my oldest daughter, had been in the room, I'm pretty sure they would have exchanged one of their knowing glances--that irritating, conspiracy of youth look that says, "I think Mom is losing it."
I turned 60 this year and the girls seem to see it as some sort of milestone, although not necessarily a good one. I'm pretty sure they've started looking for signs of deterioration. And I don't doubt that they're finding them.
Not too long ago, for instance, I couldn't come up with my cat's name. Which is a little bit pathetic since her name is "Kitty." But, really, it was no big deal. I just used the generic call of, "Here kitty, kitty, kitty," and the cat came running. No harm, no foul so to speak.
My girls tend to see it differently though. They seem to think that forgetfulness is a bad thing. That it's tied up with aging. Or brain cells dying. Or Mom losing it. And so they look for signs.
I probably should just ignore them. But it's kind of got me worried that Alex may decide that she can't let my grandson Flynn ride in a car with me. Come to think of it... I've never actually driven him anywhere yet. And last summer when I offered to drive them home from St. Louis, Alex was quick to say that she wasn't the least bit tired even though she hadn't had a full night's sleep since Flynn arrived eight weeks earlier.
I think it might be time to sit down with the girls and explain to them that I'm okay. That I can still finish a crossword puzzle before either of them, name all of the finalists on Dancing With the Stars, read several books a week (even if I can't always remember the titles), and react in record time at seeing anything vaguely resembling a mouse scampering across the floor. And that car accident last winter? It was absolutely not my fault. Okay, I might bear a little responsibility for the broken back window in my sister's Explorer, but that other accident...I was faultless.
"Being able to text," I'll explain to them, "or having a phone with a keyboard, is not an appropriate test for competency."
"And a little forgetfulness at a bank drive through is not a sign of impending senility. After all, I did remember to get my deposit slip. It's right over....well, it's somewhere around here."
All those signs they think they're seeing--they're really just nothing.
When I was expecting Alex, I spent the entire nine months of my pregnancy embroidering a special hand made blanket for her. And then, on our very first outing, I set it on top of the car while buckling her in, forgot about it, and lost it forever somewhere along highway 40 in St. Louis. My guess is that it probably ended up right beside my half dozen gas caps that had the same fate. And these things happened while I was a young 30-something.
Surely the girls must remember me driving them to grade school and arriving with my coffee cup still on top of the car. How old was I then? A baby...no more than 37. And that was just the time the cup stayed on top. Who knows how many cups went flying off.
And what about that time that I wore two different shoes to the mall and shopped for 30 minutes before looking down and seeing one brown, one black, one flat, one with a little heel. I don't think I was even out of my 40's.
That lost library book that I finally found in the freezer....I was no more than 42 when I put it there. Using hand lotion instead of conditioner on my hair....I've done that fairly regularly for decades. Forgetting to put the eggs in the recipe...not all that unusual over my lifetime of cooking. And what about your Aunt Ellen? She was only in her 30's when she drove the carpool and remembered to pick up every child except her own daughter, who she left stranded at the grade school.
"So girls," I'll explain, "the next time I drive off with the bank's cylinder, or forget your name, or open up the freezer when I'm looking for my book, don't assume that I'm losing it. Because, believe me, I lost it a long time ago."
And by the way, if you don't see me when you're reading this and think I might have wandered off, don't worry. Flynn and I just went out for a little car ride.
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Comments
John--And I bet you were just a young thing too.
Laura--Start writing those things down so you have a defense in 15 years.
I don't even use a cel-phone. I can't. My husband has a pristine I-phone for me on the hall table. I keep making excuses while envious friends drool over it and offer to take it off my hands. I have no problem with giving it away, but FOTI might get offended.
For one thing, ringtones scare me (all of them). I don't recognize Pachabel's Canon in D as pick up the telephone signal so I never do, "Who Let The Dogs Out" is not what you want to hear when you're driving home late at night and the homefront wants to know where you are, the old fashioned brrriing-brrrriing causes me to leap out of my skin.
Secondly, texting is beneath me. I can touch type at a speed that would make your head spin-hah! Who needs texting? If I want to get in touch with you, I'll phone you on the landline and talk.
Beyond all that though: Even with teenagers, probably especially with teenagers, there are times when I just want to be off the grid.
Enquiring minds want to know: How are you going to get the cylinder back to the bank?
V Corso--I sheepishly took it back the next day. They had figured out it was me and had been trying to call, but I had forgotten my cell phone.
Lea--Lots to look forward to then.
Buffy--Yeah, you're not alone.
ccdarling--Gas caps can be attached?! Damn.
Razzle Dazzle--I remember my own phone number, but not a single other one. Does that make me a little bit better or a little bit worse than Einstein? Either way, Ill take it.
HAHAHA!!!
Barb--Oh, I've done that too. A few times when I was actually even wearing them.
Damon--I think he's going to be a lot of help down the road.
♥
Froggy--Thanks. No telling what else you'll find in the pantry.
Margaret--The heel was what gave it away. I kept feeling like I was tilted.
...It's nice to hear I'm not the only one... :)
My daughters call me everyday - one at noon and one at night. I'm sure they do it just to check up on the old man - make sure I answer the phone and they don't have to come looking in three days to find the body and the cat eating my face.
:-)
I blog so they know I still "haven't lost it" - at least not all of it!!
Pensive--I've always thought they should put a little tray on top with a rim to hold things in. We can't be the only people.
Toritto--We should probably just count ourselves lucky that we have daughters that care.
i am 44. my father died at age 84 from some kind of dementia.
sure i worry. i worry every damn little detail to death..
which is the explanation for my fumbling foolishness
in the physical world, i hope. short & long term memory
clash it out in our immediacy.
of course we must be mindful.
mindfulness is the answer.
fully plunge into your moment
and have faith that you are
not leaving your memory
in an inaccessible place.
faith. arg. faith in one's own mind. only faith i know.
could be connected to something 'universal' but
i really don't care , as long as i can get thru the day
w/o embarrassing myself w/ my short term memory mishaps.
: )
I'm 67, like Gerald. I have always had a memory like a steel trap, so it is very disconcerting when my son faux-patiently says things like, "...remember, we were talking about my girlfriend that time and I told you she was..?" He knows I don't remember. He just can't figure out how to deal with me this way. :D My problem is with recent events and details. Anything longer ago than a month, I'm good.
Lezlie
words are encumbrances that slip in & out of short term focus.
Vocabulary lessons are perhaps indicated?
really!! often i hear a certain word and it
extends trains of associations that
never maybe would have happened
otherwise...a mind, a terrible thing
to waste...we must instruct our-
selves on how to best not
lose our minds...it is
so easy to do so
today...
trilogy--Hope they'll let you drive those cute new babies.
James--More wise words.
Stim--The banks to blame? I like that. The Depends? I'll be on the lookout.
Alysa--They read it. I'm pretty sure they rolled their eyes.
I am sure she was only in her 40s. My husband came home with the golf cart key the other day. And then he forgot to return it........:)
Isn't it amazing to listen to your kids, who sometimes used to sit on your lap when you drove, tell you the rules of safe driving, of nutrition, and how to raise their kids - your grandkids? I don't remember Captain Crunch cereal being so bad for them. Who's having trouble remembering things? Take heart; 60 is the new 40!!
Good work, loved this. R.