Age is just a number... right?

I have aged. Gone old. Ancient even.
The proof lies in the events of this rainy morning. I got to work, late as usual. I park, get my stuff together and get out, as usual. I lock my car and double check the fact, as usual. And here is where some celestial monkey threw a spanner in the works. As. Usual.

I leave the car and start to walk to my building and the extraordinary happens. I hear a whistle. The wolfy kind. Now, 'back in the day' this would have resulted in one of two reactions from me. Completely ignoring the perpetrator, or a dirty look at a repeat offender. Today was a completely different kettle of fish... (I use it, but never realllllly understood the reason for this saying. Why the hell would anyone put fish in a kettle?)... As I was saying, fishy kettle - because my immediate and first reaction was -"Kids these days!"

Kids ?!?!?!?
What the HELL ???

And this is where epiphany struck. Age has caught up with me. Sigh.
At the ripe old age of 24. Double sigh.

Depression and general gloominess descended and I don't even remember the face of the little perpetrator (I think I like that word - it rolls off the tongue). A conversation with Pumpkin's mummy however, has made me feel better. After talking at great length, we have decided that age is just a number, and your true 'age' as it were, is how old you behave. With that conclusion, I have realized that I am probably 3, 4 at the most, and life is all pretty again.

Ahh, how easy it is to make me happy. :)

This one’s for the girls…

Again, its music that is making me put pen to paper. Yes, strange as it may seem, I still write the old fashioned way before I type it in and post it up here. I was listening to Martina McBride’s “This one’s for the girls” and I realized something I have always known but never paid attention to… we need best friends. They may not know what your schedule for the day is and inadvertently call you during a meeting, or they may forget that you had this presentation the next day and wake you up just as you were falling asleep with a tidbit about how their day went.
However, they will never forget your birthday, your favorite color, what kind of ice-cream to bring with them when they come over to cry over a teary movie or a relationship gone wrong. And make no mistake, when you have to cry, they will cry right with you, letting you know all along that you are never alone, even if you might feel you are.
When you lose someone, when you need a shoulder to cry on and your significant other is snoring in blissful ignorance, when you need a hug to get rid of the day from hell… they are there, with a smile, a hug and just good fuzzy feelings that make you feel better no matter what.
These are the people that make life prettier.
I have grown up with boys as my closest friends my whole life, but they never penetrated my inner circle. We were the five who stuck together and high school was our best time ever. While other friends we knew were choosing boys over their friends and losing out on childhood best buddies, we grew closer. Boys made us cry and we turned to each other for solace, teachers drove us insane and we had each other for company, life got harder and we knew the other four were just a text message away. We were inseparable, in spirit anyway. Nothing could keep us apart then and nothing is going to now, except for visas and very expensive flight tickets anyway.
Yes, we are finally scattered across the globe, but I have said it before and I will say it again, thank God for the internet. We have chat, social networking and email threads to keep us in touch.
Since I moved out on my own I have made new friends and we have bonded over a lot of madness and sobriety that I will never forget or change, for the world. But nothing will change what we have or what we had. I love you guys.
This one’s for the girls!

:P

All boys are stupid... Throw rocks at them!

Thus reads the writing on the t-shirt a good friend was wearing today. I couldn't agree more. I mean really, have you taken a look at any second grader (male) who likes a female classmate? His courting rituals would be enough to fill a book... one on likely emotional trauma maybe. He will pull her hair and pinch her to make her cry every chance he gets. Once she cries, he stands there, laughs at her, and then leaves.

Once these men mature (like they ever do) they turn into emotional wrecking balls who will do the psychological equivalent of pulling your hair... they will date the office bitch. And then of course, the pinch, he will praise her non existent work to your mutual boss. the only difference is he will do all this 30 seconds after he has left you citing the overload of work as his reason for not being able to devote time to a steady relationship.

Now in steps your knight in shining armor. He will dry your eyes and tell you that it is all going to be ok and then he will probably take you out to a romantic dinner and just when you are writing the wedding invitations in his head he mentions that he is so sorry to hear that your son is down with the chicken pox and that is why you look so run down. You exclaim that you don't have a son and an uncomfortable silence follows. A silence in which you wished that magic existed, if only for the satisfaction of being able to hex your former beau so that he is no longer recognizable as a member of the same species. With hydrocephalus maybe.

P.S.
This was written forever ago and was languishing in my draft box until I decided to resurrect it.

My monster... My friend

Expectant mom: darling, would you like a baby brother or sister?

Son: no thanks mom!

Tough luck kid, you tried but you've got no choice. However you eventually reconcile yourself to the idea of a younger replica-a slave to your every whim, your slightest command the focal point of their existence. WRONG AGAIN.

Pretty soon you think all the hype was about nothing. That is until you actually meet the SCREECHY, WAILY, CHANGE-MY-DIAPER AND FEED ME, BUNDLE OF RED SOMETHING! That your wise and all knowing parents have deemed fit to bring home from that house of horrors (judging by this midget)-the hospital.

Soon your little alien is growing in alarming leaps and bounds and you begin to wonder if his mother ship is ever going to come and take him back to his home planet.

Finally resigning yourself to the fact that you are basically stuck with him for life (groan) you decide to make the most of a situation you can't get out of. But no matter how imperious your commands or how threatening your stature the little squirt simply refuses to obey. The fact that he cannot turn onto his side yet is absolutely no excuse!

Determination is the key. "All right you little martian-Walk the plank!" Gurgles accompany a total resistance to your glow in the dark neon sword. How such an insignificant morsel of humanity can ignore the might of your lustrous rapier sends you into the throes of a violent rage.....and you do the only thing that can possibly salvage your wounded pride-hide the pacifier!

What follows is quite predictable... ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE is not a term to be used lightly but it captures the scene that follows-right from the harassed mother searching high and low for the missing heirloom, to you poking the little beast in the diaper to get him to shut up. May I add that this form of inducing silence is highly unsuccessful-it only leads to more high pressure decibel assault on sensitive eardrums.

It might seem unthinkable but soon the little squirt starts to grow on you. No one else can smile with that adorable lack of teeth and then howl without drawing breath until he turns a totally rad shade of blue.....of course your mother might not regard the latter as a highly desirable trait.

You come to the decision that life can be quite unaffected by this little intruder. WRONG! (Funny how many times that keeps happening) You discover just how wrong when you arrive home from second grade to find squirt sitting under (yes, under!) a pile of your clothes beside your open wardrobe. Apparently someone is learning to walk and apparently that same someone picked the wrong hand support to pull himself up. So now you have been condemned to the most dreaded chore ever-THE CLEAN UP!

Then bit by bit their nocturnal overtures seem to mature a little. Rather than scream (loud enough to wake the dead) at the three second delay in their 2 a.m. feeding they resort to more localized torture. They climb out of their crib, toddle over to the nearest bed and howl right in the occupant's ear.

That you happen to be the occupant of the nearest bed is just an unfortunate twist of fate. How are they to know that a six year old is utterly unaware of how much distilled water goes in their formula-Hell! You didn't even know he ate normal earthling food. You just assumed he subsisted by mentally absorbing the torment he inflicted on your innocent by-stander of a teddy bear.

And no mom, I don't care how small he is, he simply cannot have my teddy bear-so what if he's my baby brother- I didn't ask for one. Santa got the letters mixed up-I distinctly remember asking for a puppy - not a beastling!

And then the beastling in question is no longer in the infantile stage of existence. The current stage is highly treasured in later life but at the time is one of the most exasperating experiences ever! THE ADORATION AND ADULATION! How in heaven's name do you explain to a midget in baby bucklers that his stunt of fitting both tiny feet into one of your in line skates would quite possibly cause the forced removal of his two front teeth - need i add his only teeth - front or otherwise!

Also you have no idea why squirt follows you around all day long-alternating methods of locomotion-his choices being-

1. On all fours (where you occasionally trip over him)

2. On very wobbly legs that don't seem to agree with each other on the direction of movement

3 .and of course by hanging on to your leg and hitching a ride....

"Go Away! I am NOT mommy, in fact there are times I deny any biological connection to you whatsoever! "Yet after a while, despite your misgivings about the safety of a diaper, you accept defeat in exasperation, "Alright I'll carry you!"

Well, the squirt has won another round and judging by that smile on your face... it doesn't seem like you lost either, now does it?