Dawn Is Me

I have recently learned something new about myself.

I learn that I am “mellow.” In fact, according to Joe Who Lives Across The Street, I am the most mellow person that he, at least, has ever met.

You might think I’m weird but I was actually shocked by that statement.

Mellow? Moi?

So, I decided to ask my daughters about it. They agreed that I am amazingly laid back and, further, that this quality makes me a top Cool Mom and makes both Gina and Kimmie the envy of their peeps.

I am, according to Gina’s friends, “mad chill.”

Except that I’m not.

I earn these accolades because, I am told, I don’t get bent out of shape about little things. And I guess that’s true, I don’t. I have long since decided that there are enough BIG things to get bent out of shape about to make getting bent about little things something of a waste of time.

This way, when I get bent, I can get really bent.

The thing is that life is full of little things for me to not care about. Thus, I appear to be laid back and mellow.

Now the main reason why all this is sort of shocking to me is that it is completely foreign to my own experience of living inside my own skin. If you had asked me to describe myself and/or my personality, I sincerely doubt that ‘mellow’ (or any synonym thereof) would have been one of the words I’d have used.

It’s easy to forget that the difference between the way you see or experience yourself and the way other people do can sometimes be as wide as the Gobi Desert.

Which is why it is good to be reminded sometimes. Because this is the very sort of thing that creates misunderstandings and miscommunications and all sorts of ‘mis-’ words like that.

That way, all those misses can become still more little stuff to not get bent about.

Life is too short.

Keep. It. Simple. Stupid.

I turned 50 years old today.

Half a century. Wow.

No, I still don’t feel any different. But clearly, this makes a difference to other people.

What did I do for my birthday? I visited the doctor’s office.

This is how I can tell that I have crossed a threshhold. Now, in the doctor’s office, I’m discussing menopause and preventive colostomies.

And I got my very first invitation to join AARP in the mail!

Some of my children wished me a happy birthday.

As usual, there was no birthday cake.

But I think I’m at the stage where there is no longer any question: I am a grownup.

Otherwise … just another day.

At the risk of sounding like my own grandmother, I have to say that kids these days are really rude. Observe:

Me: Hello?

Child on Phone: Who’s this?

Me: Who did you want to speak to?

CoP: Just … who is this?

Me: You are so rude! Who did you want to speak to?

CoP: I just wanna know who this is!

Me: Why?

CoP: Because if this is Richard’s mom, then I wanna tell her something.

Me: Well, if you want to tell Richard’s mom something, then why don’t you just ask for Richard’s mom!?

CoP: Well, can I speak to Richard’s mom?

Me: Yes, you may. What do you want, Josh?

And people wonder why young people have so much trouble functioning in the workforce. They don’t seem to know the basics of how to make a phone call.

All I know is that, if I had behaved that way on a telephone call (especially when talking to an adult), my mom would have knocked me across the room.

Those were the days.

Let’s hear it for child abuse!