pieces and ponderings

Today I am acutely aware of being closer to 50-years-old than 40…acutely aware…acutely sore…acutely stiff.  My young and limber 11-year-old had his second tennis lesson yesterday afternoon.  It went very well.  And then he looked at me with huge gray/green eyes and said something like, “We can hit a few more, right?”

And I looked at him and his big gray/green eyes and said, “Sure, we can do that.”

And I laughed a little when his tennis instructor told him to go easy on the “old lady.”

And we did hit a few more until I said something like, “This is the last one as I knocked the yellow ball his way.”  And then we walked to the car and I drove home and got out of the car and thought something like, “If I sit down before I get dinner ready, dinner may never happen.”

I shared these thoughts and conversations with my husband at the dinner table and then said something when dinner was all done like, “I think you may need to carry me because I don’t think I can stand up or move right now.”  I was joking…sort of.

Next thing I know, he is standing over me and then swooping me up into his arms and I felt very young again…and then cried out something like, “You shouldn’t be doing this…remember you back…and your neck…and don’t drop me.”

Our daughter also yelled cautioning phrases as she watched with alarm as her parents exited the kitchen.

I went to bed early…by 9 o’clock.  I awoke a couple of hours later with my muscles and joints screaming, “Get something for us!  Get the Motrin, the Advil, the Aleve, the SOMETHING!”

I applied heat and ibuprofen to my stiff and sore body and prayed for sleep.

I awoke the next morning…today…and moved oh so slowly…very slowly…S-L-O-W-L-Y…muttering something about coffee and ibuprofen.

Today, one of my children shared that he has a friend who thinks it’s “cute” that I have a blog.  That is a sweet sentiment, but isn’t “cute” a term used for things done by the very young or in my case the not-so-very-young…for the more advanced in years…they do “cute” things too…right?  I had a hair appointment today to turn my once-brunette hair brunettier again.  All the time…throughout today…my legs…my arms…my neck, back and hair follicles are letting me know that I’m closer to 50-years-old than to 40.