When Did I Get Old?

That's what I'm wondering right now--when did I get old? Last night, the teenager went ice skating with friends (the worry over her falling and breaking a bone is a story for another time). Afterwards, she called, wondering if it was ok to bring her friends back to the house to watch a movie. (The names have been changed to protect ME.)

Me: "Sure. Who's coming?"
Teenager: "Cindy, Katie and Brian"
Me: "Ok. See you soon." (very calmly)

Inside my head, red lights are flashing and alarms going off. I think I heard the robot from "Lost in Space" saying "Danger! Danger!" You see, the teenager has never brought a male home before. So hubby and I decided we would retreat to our room, just a few feet away, and turn the living room over to them. Actually, it went more like, hubby saying, "I'll hook up the DVD player down here because a boy is NOT going up to her room!"

I should insert here that the teenager IS a REALLY good kid, straight A's, no trouble at all, and as far as I know, this boy is just friend. But teenagers will be teenagers, with minds of their own and hormones and all that, so the hubby and I just want to play it safe.

So the teenager and friends, including the boy, roll in, and as the boy is walking in the door, he's saying, "I think my zipper is broke. It won't go back up." Immediately the chest pain starts.

Me: "ROBERT, GET THE BASEBALL BAT!" (Use your own imagination for the decibel level.)
Hubby: "Baseball bat Hell, I need a shotgun!"

Turns out the boy was referring to his sweatshirt. Poor kid. Had no idea what all the ruckus was for. Luckily we're old and don't move too quickly. Hubby and I retreated to our room and gave them some space, with a few periodic visits to check in. As I pretended to watch SNL while trying to listen for any unusual sounds or movements, it sank in. I am old.

Getting Started

There's a strange, bright light shining through the living room window, creating a glare as I try to type. Strange, at least, for this part of the country in early February. I believe it's sunshine, although that's a very faint memory. If you close your eyes and take a very deep breath, you might even notice the tiniest little hint of a warmer season waiting in the wings. Until then, it's kleenex and thermometers and chicken noodle soup. My daughter has been in bed since Thursday, and while I thought she was making the turn toward recovery earlier this morning, her fever is going back up now. Like I told the pharmacist yesterday, I'd rather be sick myself than see my child this way. While we can have a little device in our cars to tell us "Turn right in 200 yards," and can share our thoughts with friends half a world away with a single click, we can't instantly cure illness. And as a mom, that makes me feel helpless. I know it's probably some sort of virus, and it will just take lots of rest, and fluids, and time, but I can't help thinking of parents who face more serious illnesses in their children. How their hearts must break, wishing they could trade places with their babies. They must wonder why? Why their child? Why there is no cure? So for now, I will be thankful that it's not that serious, and take advantage of our quiet time at home together.