Tuesday, December 08, 2009
red light at morning
Now my son is too old to acknowledge. I never bring up my daughter's age, because I am vain and do not want anyone to realize that I have a daughter that old. Occasionally I try to pass her off as my sister, but this annoys her (for good reason, okay) and she usually glares and makes some kind of cutting comment, so I don't do it much. I used to not worry so much about my son: I was altogether a more socially acceptable age when he was born and it seemed normal to have a kid his age. Now, though, I have to admit that if it seemed normal then it means that I am in fact old enough to have an 18 year old kid. Yikes. I am old and he is going to get a motorcycle and register for the draft. On the bright side, however, I suppose I get to stop feeling guilty for everything my children do - clearly, it's their own fault now when they get into trouble. I suspect, however, that I will still feel vaguely that it is all probably because of something I did wrong. Well, that's parenting in a nutshell, right there.
In other, less brooding on mortality news, I fixed the oven. I went to Cashwells and bought an oven element and put it in all by myself and it works just fine - see brownies comment, above. Truly, I am mighty. Old and mighty.