Signs that I’m Secretly an Old Lady by Cindy Haney
I may not be elderly in years yet, but I’m fairly certain there’s a crabby old lady living a not-so-secret life inside of me. They say age is only a number, so if that’s true than I am 101 years old. Not really. But, man, I sure am tired. And cranky.
I used to be pretty darn “hip-and-happening” until my girls became teenagers. Suddenly, everything I thought was cool about myself got flipped upside down. My 17-year-old says that the mere fact that I even use the words “hip-and-happening” make me hopelessly uncool. Apparently, everything I say, do or wear is ridiculously old-fashioned and embarrassing. This is a surprise to me. And to think, I’ve spent the last 40-something years thinking I was on the cutting edge of awesomeness. Who knew?
So I got to thinking about all of the things that I do that might make me seem like a Cranky Old Fart, especially in the eyes of a teenager who thinks she’s the epitome of coolness and who has a highly oversensitive embarrassment radar. If you are a mom who has unknowingly (and unwillingly) passed her prime, then you might see yourself in this list.
Here are 15 signs that I am secretly an Old Lady:
- If I go to a movie where there is a group of teens, like my daughter’s friends, I shush them before the film even starts, just to let them know I won’t be putting up with any shenanigans.
- Speaking of movies, I’m terrified of horror movies, and let everyone know it. During my daughter’s birthday party recently, when they tried to watch a horror movie, I stormed in and gave everyone a speech about how they were NOT going to watch “that devil stuff” in my presence! (Don’t tell my daughter I read “Amityville Horror” when I was 14. In my bed. At Night. ALONE!)
- Whenever I get up from the couch, I’ve started making that uuuuhhhhgggrrrghh sound, and letting loose an uncontrolled fart bomb at the same time.
- I complain A LOT about technology. Whenever my daughters are required to “go online” to take a test or fill out a form or sign up for something, inevitably it’s “the computer” that immediately goes on strike and starts screwing up. I says things like, “What the hell? Why doesn’t these passwords ever work?” “Whatever happened to the good old days when you just wrote on a piece of paper?” “Damn you, internet!”
- Both of my daughters love indie music, which they make me listen to constantly in the car. I find myself rolling my eyes and saying “THIS is music? Let me tell you about good music…” Then I pop in a YAZ CD from the 80’s just to prove I was once edgy and indie-cool, too. Their biggest concern is why in the world I still own CDs.
- I’ve started taking unintentional naps, sometimes while I’m at work. Sometimes during conversations.
- I’ve gotten genuinely excited over a new flavor of Blue Bell.
- My feet hurt so much lately that I actually bought a pair of Dr. Scholl’s inserts at Walgreens the other day. This one scares me.
- Speaking of feet, we went on our first college visit last weekend. Naturally, we chose the college that both my husband and I graduated from as our first visit. I had forgotten that the campus was so big, so we literally walked the entire day. Guess what? I pulled a muscle in my right calf and had to ice it down the next day. Just from WALKING! This is so sad. Very. Sad.
- The biggest deciding factor in which restaurant I go to is how loud it is there. If it’s too loud, I’m leaving. Joe’s Crab Shack can go to hell.
- When I watch TV I’ve started keeping an electric blanket over my legs like Franklin Roosevelt. Let’s don’t even talk about the Forever Lazy and the fuzzy socks I’m wearing at the same time.
- There’s a good chance I’ll cancel plans if there’s an episode of The Bachelor/Bachelorette on. I’m emotionally invested and cry like a baby when there’s a big break-up.
- I still remember how to write a proper letter without winkie faces, LOLs, misspelled words and landmines full of grammatical errors. This makes me really old.
- My entire weekend revolves around my trip to the grocery store and how many loads of laundry I can accomplish before Monday. It’s like playing the Game of Life – the Geezer Years.
- My repetitive night terrors used to be about finding myself naked in English class or not being able to find my locker. Now I wake up in a cold sweat when I dream about getting college tuition bills in the mail. I’ think it’s best if I just avoid all sleep, thus the reason for #6 above.
If you’re a mom, what makes you worry that you might be becoming a Secret Old Lady? I’ll bet you’ve got some good ones, too! Thanks for reading, you sassy-mouthed nincompoop whippersnappers.