Changing of the Guard

I cannot wait for you to turn 40.  You are just going to love it. 

Something astounding happens. I mean, it is a little frightening – if I am being honest – the reality of it is a little frightening….

But, it happens when you least expect it – it is definitely something that just APPEARS, so there is no sense trying to prepare for it…it just happens one day...

maybe even at your local pool…while your children are in line at the snack bar, whipping their dollar bills around in the significant (tree-bending) breeze, while you yell, “That is going to blow away, and I am not going to chase after it, and you are not getting another one….”

It just whacks you. 

What is “it?”  Hold on…hold on….

It is startling at first, and then temporarily disappointing.  It is sorta like arriving at your dad’s childhood amusement park after a ten hour drive, and you are all like, “That?”

You are disenchanted, but you quickly accept it for what it is, and you decide it is good to be off the road, the long road that required endless map checking and dangerous turning around in the middle of the highway.

You have no idea where I am going with this.

Sorry.

OK.  So,  when you turn 40…I mean, not like THAT day….it doesn’t arrive in a box with a fluffy red bow or anything like that…not on your actual birthday.  BUT, when you turn 40, you are on the threshold of

THIS; and, what this is…is THIS:

you enter another social or neighborhood scene prepared to look around you for answers, for hints, for pointers, for a mama-Yoda...

and you are prepared to receive guidance in your usual head-down, barely-making-eye-contact, repentant manner, “Oh…thank you; I’m sorry.  I am just figuring this parenting thing out,” 

WHEN…and here is the key part…WHEN, you notice a woman interacting with her child and you say to yourself very matter-of-factly,

“This woman doesn’t know what she is talking about.”

And, you just shake your head, get that image out of your mind…but, guess what – it isn’t over - you walk smack dab into another,

“That woman doesn’t know what she is doing either.”

And you get a little panic-stricken, and now you have your eye out for it, and you find another,

“Oh, snap…that one is unsafe, too.”

And then you start to feel breathless,

“Oh my WORD, what is THAT ONE doing?”

And, you barrel around the bend to see an entire gaggle of cluelessness.

The gaggle is bikini-clad, with phones in their hands, sitting outstretched on low chairs with their limbs exposed TO THE SUN, and they have children…many many children…but they are not watching them AT ALL!  Their children are beating each other with folding chairs near the zero entry area of the baby pool.  There is an all-out beatdown going on, with four year olds flashing gang signs and chucking anything not cemented into the ground.

Your eyes are open in a way they have never before been.

Women everywhere are ruining their children, right in front of your old face.

No one has any idea what to do.

Good Googily Moogily.

Could it be?

You are in charge?

After countless more of these enlightening observations…

you realize…you come to see that

YOU…

you are the answer-holder now.

It is a changing of the guard, if you will.

You are “the veteran.”

You have been alive a long-a$$ time. 

Now, YOU know. 

See. 

That is it. 

You came into this scene ready to learn more from the old hands,

but – as far as THIS scene goes…you’ve got the oldest hands…

and that is going to be the case in basically any scene from now on where there are young children running around….

You know basically what there is TO know, and you have been elevated from TAKER to

GIVER.

I mean, you can still learn a few things…I guess…I mean, you can go read a bunch of parenting books, and you can get some newish info…like the latest thing…if you are so inclined.  But, in general, you know how to keep your kids alive,

and – these chicks…

their kids might not make it to supper.

Just like your kids almost didn’t make it to supper back in the day…

or you just didn’t cook supper….

That’s irrelevant now.  Your kids are clearly still alive.

You have a responsibility to be the knowledgeable, experienced one.

And, even if you still are completely convinced that you have NO idea what you are doing…

you are going to have to fake it and ACT the part.

Cause they are coming…

they, the younger people with children, are looking at YOU.

So, stop digging that little white crunchy thing out of your nose and pulling your wedge out, thinking no one is looking…

cause they are studying you and your mystical ways…

and you just told a whole table of newbies that it is okay to pick your nose in public.

Except the bikini chicks…they aren’t studying anything…they are, like, texting.

I know…go ahead and laugh maniacally. 

How scary –

YOU ARE THE EXPERT!

But…let’s face it.  You were never given any good directions anyways.  You were never told anything that incredibly brilliant during your own sojourn in instability. 

Because, in truth, no one ever really knows.  They just faked it and got it to catch on and others starting doing it and then it became a thing,

and the more people doing the thing, the more substantiated it becomes, and then…it is more than a thing, it is WHAT you do, and everyone is doing it….

You have been fed bullhockey for years and years. 

You have been doing it, raising your kids on it.  Those veterans weren’t wise…they were probably laughing at your gullibility.

You just realize this, one day...around the age of 40. 

You just realize…

YOU, quite likely, know more than most…at this point.

Scary?

Yes.  Darn scary.

Go make up something good…

and get other moms doing it….