Hello? Hello? Are You Listening?
When you’re a mother your telephone conversations sound something like this:
Mother #1: hello?
Mother #2: hi – I just wanted to call and talk to you about the current health care debate
Mother #1: Oh, I know did you watch CNBC last night?
Mother #2: I did, and I really thought, Tommy! Tommy! I told you to not hit your sister. SARAH! stop hitting your brother! Who wants to lose a privilege? Sorry about that – let me see, yes, I liked what they were saying about universal coverage but was concerned about the tax implications and you?
Mother #1: Well, I didn’t see the piece on CNBC but NPR was interviewing the CEO of a pharmaceutical company and, BILLY! BILLY! Put that knife down. Yes, Emma I will wipe your bottom. Sorry, okay, well NPR was discussing how the reform might impact malpractice insurance and the availability of doctors.
Do you see how that works? The side conversations with children and punishments dolled out are respectively ignored and the conversation proceeds seamlessly. Neither party offended at the break in conversation nor distracted by the requests of the children in the background. And yet, if this same conversation were held between a mother and a man — any man — it would sound like this:
Mother #1: Hello?
Man: Hi, I was wondering what was for dinner tonight
Mother #1: Oh, well I was thinking TOMMY, TOMMY NO YOU CANNOT EAT CANDY BEFORE DINNER!
Man: I’ll let you go, you sound busy.
Busy? Of course I’m busy. I’m always busy. I’m a part-time working mother of two. The only time I’m not doing three tasks at the same time is when I’m asleep. If you insist on my complete undivided attention on the phone then please plan on calling when my children are 18 years old. I’m not sure why women can follow this phone conversation phenomenon and why men seem to instantly short circuit like a Microsoft hard drive that is trying to run too many apps, but they do and it is frustrating.
As a mother of multiple children (and yes, I’m afraid you need to have more than one to make this happen) my multi-tasking abilities have reached that of Ninja-level. All those teenagers who think they are special because they can drive and text – Pshaw! That is nothing. I can cook dinner, assist with spelling homework, pack lunches for tomorrow AND text message all at the same time. I can wash hair in the bathtub, wipe somebody’s bottom, AND conduct a phone job interview all seamlessly.
What is it about women that makes us able to juggle so many tasks with little problem? Is it biological or did we develop this skill out of necessity? Would a man also be able to multi-task with such ease if he was a single dad? I have no idea but in the meantime I think it might be a good idea for me to start utilizing my “mute” button on my telephone.
And Yet He Will Always Be Younger
Today is David’s birthday. He turns 36 this year. I always find it amazing that when I met him and we first started dating he was only 25. That seems so young to me now. Although he has less hair, some things never change. David is still the funniest person I know. He is the only person who can make me laugh until I pee and then make me laugh that I just peed. As cheesy as this is going to sound the song “Ain’t No Other Man” by Christina Aguilera ALWAYS makes me think of him – especially the chorus:
Ain’t no other man, can stand up next to you
Ain’t no other man on the planet does what you do
You’re the kind of guy a girl finds in a blue moon
You’ve got soul, you’ve got class,
you’ve got style with your bad ass,
Ain’t no other man its true.
That’s David – he’s got soul, he’s got class, he’s got style and he’s a total bad ass. Now, if I could just get him to do the dishes once and awhile he’d be pretty close to perfect. Happy Birthday!!
Wiser? Or Just Plain Old?
It felt like it happened over night. I stood there staring into the mirror and there they were staring back at me. Wrinkles. Oh, they are small and some might call them “character lines” but no matter what flowery language you use they are still wrinkles and they are on MY forehead. I’m 39 and 40 is the next block over. Things are different as I look down the barrel of this milestone and not in the ways I expected.
From the moment David and I met I have always taken great pride in the fact that I’m not a jealous person. I have entertained and fed more than one of David’s ex-girlfriends. I have watched him attend bachelor parties, happy hours, and other events without me and have never thought twice about it. He has spent days at photo shoots with professional models, and his office is frequently filled with beautiful single women. It has never once bothered me. Why? Well, I’m pretty secure with myself and in my relationship. I figure if David was really bent on straying nothing I could ever say or do would stop him. And yet, without warning, things are starting to change.
Before you think that somehow my marriage has hit rocky ground it has not. David and I are as solid and in love as ever. What has changed, is me, and it has a great deal more to do with those suspicious wrinkles on my forehead than I’d like to admit. It all fell into place when I read this recent article by Mommy Track’d. I am more jealous of the women my husband works with and the time he spends away from the house. Why? Because I’m no longer the young, 20-something, career minded, sexy, independent super girl I was when we met. No, my body now wears the scars of two children and four pregnancies. I have stretch marks, and cellulite, and wrinkles. The circles around my eyes, that used to be easily gotten rid of with some ice cubes and good eye cream, no longer vanish over night – or sometimes at all. That high-power, high-paying career that I had forged for myself is now a victim on the sidelines of my life. I can no longer compete with the women that my husband interacts with on a daily basis and at 39 I’m all too aware of it.
David assures me that those things are no longer important to him. He laughs and scowls when I bring it up telling me that in place of those things I have provided him with a home, children, a foundation for him to build his life. That we always have been and always will be soul-mates fatefully locked together. I know he is telling me the truth. I know he means all the words coming from his mouth. But I can’t help but miss that 20-something young super girl and wonder if sometimes he misses her too? I’m not mourning the loss of my younger body (because lets face it, it was never GREAT), but I miss the confidence that the younger me had. I miss the seemingly bottomless pit of belief and passion I felt within myself.
Perhaps that is what getting older and wiser is all about. You lose your unshakable confidence because you more honestly recognize your faults and misgivings. You no longer need the shield of false bravado to get through life but instead gain the greater strength of seeing yourself more nakedly than you ever have before. And this honesty, this unfiltered vision, brings with it fear of who you REALLY are not who you were trying to pretend to be the first 30 years. And just perhaps that is true wisdom.
