‘”You’re going to be a grownup for a very long time.”‘
I had my heart set on using this seriously cute photo of The Child wearing my shiny brown hand-tooled cowboy boots. (They look more like hip boots on her three-or-four-year-old form.) In this lost photo she is also sporting a pair of big ole dangly pearl clip-on earrings. Painfully cute.
Never fear. I have a plethora of painfully cute Child photos
I could keep on looking, but the clock just keeps on ticking and it’ll be Wednesday before this Tuesday post is done if I don’t just forge on ahead.
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- The Child sporting a sweater I knit her
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- The Child sporting a sweater I knit her
Speaking of clocks ticking, I’ve had time on my mind as well as on my hands during this period of pandemic pandemonium. Mostly as in “gosh time goes by so quickly.” I don’t know about you, but it seems like the part of the day where I’m drinking coffee turns into the part of the day where I’m drinking wine alarmingly fast.
The Incest Mug. Grab a cup of java and read all about it here
But back to the bit about The Child dressing up. She was, of course, pretending to be a grownup. I used to do the same thing, only with my Mom’s high heels instead of cowboy boots. (I doubt if my Mom ever owned a pair of cowboy boots, though nothing would surprise me. She was once thought to be what was known at the time as a “Party Girl,” which wasn’t in fact the case, but sure made a great story.)
Not only did I raid Mom’s closet, I begged to paint my nails and wear lipstick. And don’t get me started about the Bra Thing. I wheedled my way into a “training bra” (training for what exactly?). Oh, and I used to round my age up to the next year. To this day I have to stop myself from doing this. “No! You are not 69 yet. That’s not until November.”
Me, flanked by my Peterson Grandparents, proudly sporting my “training bra.” You can read about that in “I Seen Smallah”
At any of these antics, my wise mother would simply shake her head and say, “Don’t be in such a hurry. You’re going to be a grownup for a very long time.”
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- From Grownup Wannabe
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- To Actual Grownup. That is, if a Twenty-Something can be called a “grownup”
And, boy was she right. It seems like it’s been about a century since I declared myself a Grownup with a Capital G. (It wasn’t when I turned twenty-one; it was when I got married. Which was at Age Twenty; early marriages also being a Thing in the Olden Days.)
So, at this point in my life I’ve been a Grownup for, like my mom said, a very long time. Of course, she has been a Grownup for even longer.
Grownup on the left is The Child. Grownup on the right is my very wise Mom
Anyway. The Corona Craziness has had me thinking about all this more than I usually do. And hoping against hope that my Mom’s saying holds true — that we all can keep on being grownups for a very long time.
Amagansett, New York. May 2020
Sweet story as always Alice.
For the longest time my biggest fear in life has been reaching the point where I am no longer a grownup and have regressed to being a child again. Given the current circumstances though I think maybe I would be happy now to last that long.
Stay safe and stay sane during these strange times!
Ah, Harold. Thank you for your lovely comment. You’ve reminded me of something my father used to say, usually as he was struggling to get up from a chair or exasperated by some other age-related annoyance: “Don’t get old,” he would say. To which we kids would just look at each other and shrug. Now, of course, as I deal with arthritic fingers and where-the-heck-did-I-put-my-glasses syndrome, I totally get what he meant. But, given the choice, I’ll go for getting as old as I possibly can!
Great writing, Alice. I especially love the close. Stay safe!
Many thanks, Jim. Coming from you, “Great Writing” is a great compliment indeed! You and yours stay safe and sound as well xoxoxo
Some people need to show themselves to behave like grownups, first! I hope you’re making out OK, not getting too terribly tired of all the corona cooking, and not being bombarded with beach-flockers from other states. I think Delaware’s onto something: sending people away from their beaches if their cars don’t sport Delaware plates. Nice post and cute pics–brings back memories of wearing my mom’s lipstick, scarves, and jewelry, pretending to be a gypsy.
Ah, Becca! Your excellent point is well taken. I’m afraid the whole idea of behaving like grownups deserves its own post. Maybe two or three! Thank you for checking in. So far so good with the corona cooking (Sam Sifton is my hero!) Haven’t really been to the beach, since it’s pretty chilly here. But people seem to be pretty well-behaved. Well-gloved fingers crossed!