Don't Rush Progress

I hate when this happens.  Where has the time gone?  I turn around and it is already March and I have no clue what happened to January and February.  Christmas feels like it was eons ago and I am already hankerin’ to start digging in my garden (I frequently partake of fabulous, fancy fantasies of foliage and flora).  I am way over winter and have grand illusions that I will be 20 pounds thinner when summer finally arrives and I brace myself for less coverage.

I feel as though I was just enrolling my son for pre-school and now he will be registering for high school (which ultimately is the trigger that leads to college, a fabulous career, a wife… and me being a grandmother – of which I am not even remotely prepared to consider living and sleeping with a grandfather).  My child used to be this cute little tyke that was always so agreeable.  Now, it appears his mouth has grown disproportionately to his body.  When did this all happen?  I thought I was present and accounted for each and every day of his young life, but how dare he decide to grow up and have his own opinions.

Talk about time flying… the announcement for my high school reunion arrived via email (we are a hip-happenin’ modern e-class).  Within minutes I was jettisoned back to the time of innocence and of sneaking into drive-in movies, toilet papering houses and “watching submarine races”.  It certainly doesn’t feel like 30 years have gone by, because I can distinctly remember my first crush, wearing knee socks and Geometry (specifically the day the streaker ran by outside the window).  It really is frightening how much I recall from so long ago, especially when I can’t remember what I made for dinner last night.  The only reassuring thought is that the “kids” from my bicentennial class remember the same things (one reason we have stayed in touch all these years – for sanity checks).  Probably not a good idea to bring spouses, significant others or children to this milestone occasion if you are into denial and digress quickly to “stuffing with cotton what may have been forgotten”, get caught giving wedgies or peeling out of the parking lot – all very mature and responsible activities if no one, other than your comrades, is watching.

We need to slow down, account for missing-in-action time and not rush progress.  All your life someone is trying to make you “grow-up”.  Eating solid foods, potty training and riding a two-wheeled bike are rights of passage that we enthusiastically encourage upon the younger set.  Conquering acne, wishing we were a bigger cup size and wearing make-up enable us to be perceived as more grown-up.  Driving a car, getting your first apartment and staying out all night are all prologues and overtures into the adult world.

Why the hurry to develop and mature?  I heard a saying once, “it is too bad that youth is wasted on the young”… and I am finally getting it.  If I knew then what I know now, I think I would have slowed down and tried not to cram everything into a weekend.  I would have saved a few pranks to pull to help relieve a bit of the stress that comes with being “grown-up”.  I can picture it now… the love muffin and I toilet papering the neighbor’s house just for fun.  Of course, we would be mature and help to clean it up in the morning… NOT!  Nanna-nanna boo-boo – you can’t catch us.  Like I said, why rush progress?

Cynthia A. McClelland, curious observer of the obvious with interpretations of the oddities of daily life.  Mother, wife and lover of the furry, resides in the north Lake Tahoe area.

Cynthia A. McClelland © 2003-