Parenting and family, served with a shot of vodka
At some point, it happens to every parent, but I’m not sure anyone is ever prepared for how old it will make you feel.
It’s the moment you have the discussion with your child that’s something along the lines of, “I had to walk to school barefoot five miles in the snow (both ways!), carrying the rest of the neighborhood kids on my back while juggling a stack of feral kittens.”
Or, in short: Life was rough when I was your age.
Last weekend, as our family sat at the table eating dinner, Superhero, 5, goes, “Did you know there are some people who don’t even have games on their iPad?!”
I laughed, and was like, “Do you know when I was a kid, we didn’t even have iPads?”
You should have seen the look on his face. It was as though I’d just told him he wasn’t, in fact, eating spaghetti for dinner, but diced unicorn hooves sprinkled with the remnants of all the Incredible Hulk’s ripped-up t-shirts.
“Nuh-UHHHH!,” he said, his eyes wide as saucers.
“So, bud. You know what else? When I was a kid, you couldn’t even walk around the house or anywhere else with phones. They huge, and they were attached to the wall,” I said, suddenly feeling really ancient.
“And we definitely didn’t have these (holding up my own iPhone).”
“There weren’t even buttons on the phone. We had to stick our finger in a number hole and spin it in a circle seven times to call anyone.”
“When I was a kid, we didn’t have TV channels that played cartoons all the time. We watched cartoons one morning a week, on Saturdays, and that was it.”
Superhero was dumbfounded. “How did you change the channel?,” he asked.
“We had to walk over and turn the knob,” replied the hubs.
Superhero started cracking up, then goes, “Wait, what’s a knob?”
So yeah. You get the picture.
Much of the time I feel young at heart. But this made me feel like I needed to walk straight upstairs, put on a house coat, slippers and pink spongy curlers, then start planning the next night’s dinner — for 4:30 p.m. at Denny’s.
Getting old is brutal sometimes.
What talk with your child(ren) made you feel old? Do tell. Misery loves company!