You know you are getting old … again…
You know you are getting old when — yes, this is going to be another one of those columns. I had the honor and privilege of having my Strudel without her parents for the weekend. Man do I love that kid. Anyway, we are at the toilet training stage. And when I say “we,” I mean she. And because I go a little nuts when it comes to my Strudel, we have two different potty seats, one with Minnie Mouse and one with Sesame Street characters. Sometimes she chooses one, sometimes the other, and sometimes, to really spice things up, she likes to switch mid-session. We also have a little pink toilet.
Let us discuss this. When my boys were little, I bought them a little potty. It was blue. When they used it, it was mildly gross because you had to clean it out. (If this stuff makes you queasy, you might want to skip over this, but, as the famous book says, “Everybody poops.”) Fast forward 20 some-odd years (you know you are getting old when it has been over 20 years since you were in toilet training mode) and I went on Amazon to find a little potty for my Strudel.
Have any of you done this? The different colors, the features — who knew they could take something as simple as a potty and give you so many options? They come with flushers that actually make a flushing sound — battery operated, of course. The varieties were endless, but I had to find one that was approved by the Rabbinical Council of America. I am kidding, sort of. It had to be one that could be used on shabbos, so no flushing sounds. Sorry, Strudel. But someone was smart enough to design this one (and many others) with a whole baggie situation. This means that after they go, you just pick up the baggie and dispose of it. Genius!!!! Still a little gross, but much better than what we old folks had to do decades ago.
And for those boymoms out there, training a girl is way different than training a boy, but I won’t go into those specifics. Enough said. Next.
You know you are getting old when you go to a wedding of your friend’s kid and you were also at the friend’s wedding 30 some odd years ago. For me, this was actually a huge accomplishment, because it means that I have stayed friends with someone long enough to have been at her wedding, all of her bar and and bat mitzvahs, and all of her kids’ weddings. Thank God. And though we may dance a little slower, and when I say “we” I actually mean “me,” seeing her still makes me feel like we are back in college. I mean where do these years go??? Next.
You know you are getting old when you are sitting in the waiting room of a surgical center and your husband is getting an epidural. Aren’t epidurals for when you have a baby? Apparently, they are not. Poor Husband #1 has been having some leg issues. At first, I thought he was using it as an excuse not to walk with me, but alas, he was not. After a few months of unsuccessful physical therapy, this is the next step. “It could work. It could not work. Let’s see how it goes,” the lovely doctor told us.
It’s like I always tell my kids, “expect the worst and be pleasantly surprised.” So that is where we are now. The good news is that we are two of the younger people here. The bad news is that we are two of the younger people here. And that there is a woman in the waiting room who sounds like she is coughing up a lung. Doesn’t she know that you aren’t allowed to cough in public anymore?!?!?!?!
But, God willing, all will be well and Husband #1 will be back to running marathons and building houses for Habitat for Humanity. I am kidding. He doesn’t do either of those things. I just want him to be able to walk around the block with me a few times without stopping.
You know you are getting old when everyone around you is talking about the eclipse and you are trying to figure out if you will still be alive when the next eclipse happens. And on that positive, uplifting note, I will bid you adieu and wish you good health and the ability to witness many, many more eclipses.
The end.
Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck took Husband #1 to Carvel for a treat because he was such a good boy at the doctor.
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