Receptionists are not babysitters

Against my better judgment, I had to run my son to the dentist yesterday. He's been battling flu symptoms for a couple of weeks, and while he is much better, he's still not 100%.
Around noon, his father surprised me with the news of the dental-hygenist appointment, which last week I had requested he reschedule. He did not.
While that is an interesting blog subject regarding manipulative control freaks whose self-esteem issues require them to be endlessly self-centered, I'll save that for another day.

Today, the irksome things began with the father's 'demand' that I just "Drop the boy off at the office..." and he'd "pick him up later."
Uh, no.
Just no.
He's an 11 year old kid. You don't just drop him off at some medical office or facility and expect that other people are going to look after him if something unplanned happens....even if he has an appointment.
It is not okay to make a dental hygenist, medical receptionist, or other non-childcare professionals responsible for watching your kid because you just don't want to wait around or have errands to run.

Which brings me to the next irksome thing: this small dentist office has an even smaller waiting room. When we arrived, there was an enormous jogging stroller....you know the type with the gigantic rugged tires.....taking up most of the free space. In that stroller was a sleeping child, probably 2-3 years old. Beside that stroller were two other kids, that I would guess were about five and seven.
There was no adult with them.
The adult, it seems, was back in the dental chair and emerged later, quickly gathering up her gaggle and quietly exiting. They were pretty good kids, yes and were mostly focused on some video devices they had. But when did this become acceptable?
Now I know somebody out there is going to be pissed that I feel this way, but I'm just going to say it: the receptionist at a medical office or styling salon or any other place that has a receptionist is not your babysitter.
The people sitting in the lobby do not want to be responsible for your kids either, even if the kids are angels, even if they have hand-held electronic game systems to entertain them. And even though times are hard, it STILL should not be acceptable to dump your kids in a waiting room and 'get back to them later'.
It. Is. Just. Not. Okay.

Which is why I waited at the office while my son was there, even though his father believes in the drop-off. It is absolutely poor-form to just expect other people to be responsible for your kids without making arrangements. From my perspective as a mom, I certainly would feel like an irresponsible parent if I expected others to even know how to act in my child's best interest if the unexpected occurred. Yes, there will be an age at which I can comfortably 'drop my child off', but eleven isn't it....and this day was a case in point.
As I suspected, the boy was not enough recovered from his flu to undergo a dental cleaning, and I had to be there to make the final call AND to take him home when the appointment was shorter than planned.

Dinner, math, and relationship

I was recently out to dinner at a moderately nice restaurant. I was seated at close proximity to a couple that were obviously on a first date. We were so close, it was impossible to not hear the conversation, as much as I tried not to....okay, so I tried not to AT FIRST.
After a while, it was interesting....the speculation.

I suppose the writer in me wants to know how it's going to 'turn out'.
He, the khaki clad corporate guy with a scruffy beard trying to brag about his investments and his camping/fishing hobby.
She, the pretty blonde with an edgy, almost gruff voice trying to sell him on how great it was when she was decades younger, driving a motorcycle and being in the military. As she continued to talk about herself, it seemed she was intentionally sabotaging the date.....making her life sound like she had just walked off the set of Jerry Springer.

Obviously, they were both a bit out of their element.....she probably seeking stability and he wanting to try something a bit wilder.
She spent much of the rest of the meal looking bored. I could feel their awkward silences at my table....so awkward that I struck up a ridiculous conversation with my waitress just to give them something to hear other than the shuffling of their meals on their plates.

Yeah, I don't think it was really going to work out for them.
Or maybe they'll give it a go and try to be different and realize...nah...bad idea....OR not? Good idea? Different enough from what they've known to want to make things work?
Who knows. Maybe they view awkward silence as foreplay (for what's it worth, I do not.)

The real question in my mind: how does it work out for anyone?
I guess I have not yet discovered my magical equation that defines the acceptable relationship parameters around 'different' and 'same'.
The struggle for me is that it's not a finite point. Some days, all I want is different.....I want the discovery, the newness, the excitement and challenge of learning how to be with someone unlike me. Some days, all I want is same....the comfort of not having to work at it....of knowing that if I relax for a minute, my world will not be turned on its ear.

I suppose if I knew how to navigate that, my life would be different. But, even at the ripe old age of not yet 40, I'm still learning relationship algebra.

Peril and Plus

So....
Did some volunteer work.
"Fly below radar" nature means I offered to go behind the scenes.....
Which involved walking some dimly lit stairs......

Which resulted in PERIL: tripping on step, falling on my keister.

But hey, it was below radar work. The PLUS: nobody saw my graceful antics.

What happens when you're not looking

I am suddenly aware of a generational shift.
This didn't just happen. It's been hugely in the works, but I didn't notice. I was too busy pretending that I was still young...you know, shopping for stilettos, picking out lipstick, pretending that if I knew about one or two cutting edge bands, that I was not quite dead.
With a soul-disturbing epiphany, I am now very keenly aware of my 'station', as it were.

I spent some time with my family recently. Being home is a strange thing. It makes you remember being a kid and where you were on the familial org chart all those years ago. The thing I realized during this family visit is that whilst the people are the same, the assigned roles have most definitely shifted.
My grandmother, grand matriarch of said family, was once the thriving, wisdom-wielding, warrior with a whisper....always actively involved at some capacity. She's now stepped back into the wings and assumed the role that I associate with the great-grandmothers of my youth: a smiling witness, grateful for time-shared, silently generous.
My mother, the hard-working, overly busy, cost-conscious soul I recall is now more of what my grandmother was.....and apparently she has been this way for years and years to her own grandchildren, but I was too busy shifting into my own new role of 'mom' to notice that change in her. Not only did I miss that, I also didn't recognize the tectonic pates shifting under my feet....gliding me out of the role of daughter youngster and into the position of daughter authority figure. Perhaps it's because Mom recently retired. On this visit, I looked in the mirror and saw in my reflection the career busy woman who was worried about making sure the bills got paid. Wow, why didn't I feel that seismic shift happening? I feel like I just recognized that a funnel cloud picked up my house and planted it across the street.....even though the storm hit years ago.

And the kids that are not kids were all around us as another reminder that I am not spritely. They were born back in the days when I was worried about my English Lit grade or on the quest for the perfect seat at the Aerosmith concert or determined to get the perfect tan. They are now college students with jobs and one is even (gulp) married. MARRIED!? They have assumed my old spot on the role call. They look at me as I looked at the adults of my parents' generation. I feel elderly.

To underscore my 'changing role', this week, I have an out-of-town visitor. A young, hip, tiny thing that could stand in for a jewelry box ballerina except for the fact that she has a penchant for black hair dye, eyeliner, and converse high-tops.
Very sweet girl...pleasant company and not at all a representation of the demanding reckless wretches of her generation (that are often featured in modern media.)

We went shopping. I ventured with her into trendy stores that would never even be on my radar. And while that was fun, I can't remember the last time I had to try to find a "size one" anything.

If that wasn't enough to make me feel ancient, we wandered into a Sephora where Miss "Not-wearing-any-makeup-but-ready-for-my-Neutrogena-ad" made me long for the days of scoffing at the concept of moisturizer and other skincare products.

There it is. She's young. I'm not. It is with great sadness that my mental space shifted into this new gear. In actuality, it's not new to anything but my mindset. I'm not sure I approve of aging. Am I supposed to feel graced with wisdom? Comfortable in my skin? Unconcerned about my future? If that is what is supposed to be happening now, I don't feel it.
I still feel like the youngest one in the room so much of the time, but am I REALLY?
While I'm not yet 40, I know that by the time I have figured how to navigate this particular point on the timeline, I'll be completely moved into the next one. I just hope it doesn't whack me upside the head like this one has.

Capturing childhood amusement

Kudos to the kid that was sitting in front of me on the airplane to my vacation destination.
He was about five, maybe six.
His observations and commentary were a running amusement for the 2+ hour flight.
Samples:

His initial excited comments (to his father) upon being seated went something like:
boy: I love airplanes. If you got an airplane would you take me for a ride in it?
dad: of course
boy: But, if you had an airplane, where would you park it? I guess you could park it in the driveway.

Soon,we were told of a 45 minute weather related delay.
Boy: "We're all gonna die!!!"

Boy stands up and points to the ceiling
boy: "What's up there?"
Dad: "oxygen masks"
boy: "What is an oks ah gen mask for?"
dad: "In case there's an emergency and the plane loses air, the oxygen masks allow us to breathe"
boy: (choking and gasping, eyes bulging, cheeks puffed out) I. can't. breatheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee"
(boy collapses back in his seat, eyes closed)
(eyes pop open) "I'm only kidding. Of course I can breathe. Because that's my superpower. I can breathe through anything."