#NABLOPOMO 9 I’m not too old.

NABLOPOMO

You hear it all the time – Age is just a number – it doesn’t mean a thing.  Yeah Yeah – but I still wonder – when is ‘old’ going to happen?  What is it that makes one old?  Is it the colour of one’s hair? The changing shape of one’s body?  The failing of one’s health?  Or is it just in the eye of the beholder?

When I was a child I thought my grandparents were old.  They were fit and healthy but to me grandparent meant old.  And Granny used to say quite cheerfully – “I’m getting old you know my darling.” And I didn’t disagree.  But my grandchildren – oh no – they don’t believe I’m old at all!  Okay – so I was pretty young by modern standards when they were born – but I was the same age as my grandmother when she had grandchildren their age.   Firstborn Grandson said to me one day when he was about 12 “Granny – all my friends’ grandmothers have grey hair – why don’t you have grey hair?”

“Oh but I do, my boy.  I just have a very good hairdresser.”  He was horrified – “You mean it’s died?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“So you mean you really are old?”

But I am afraid it did not bring about new respect.  On the contrary – If I said – I can’t ride bikes with you anymore – I’m too old.  He would reply – get real Gran of course you can!  It’s a precedent, I’m afraid that I set – and now that they’re almost grown men they are still finding it hard to accept that Granny is getting on you know!

When they were in Primary School, I wrote this silly poem.

Over the Hill

I am getting older, I’m
nearly fifty five.

Over half a century I have
been alive.

I should be slowing down now,
and easing up my life.

I should be getting mellow
like every older wife.

But here I am a-peddling up
this bloody hill.

I hear my grandsons calling, their
voices loud and shrill.

You can make it Granny. You’re
really doing well.

(I do not want to tell them
that I almost fell.)

They think I am their
playmate. They think its rather fun

that Granny takes them
cycling when their homework’s done.

And as they dash through
puddles and do wheelies up the curb

they encourage me to follow;
but really that’s absurd!

They fall and seconds later
they’re back up on their bikes,

a band-aid heals their
scrapes but Granny falls, and  yikes –

She needs a month of physio
to get her muscles right.

So falling off her bicycle
would not be very bright.

Now they’re heading down hill
at a break-neck speed.

Those boys are getting all
the adrenalin they need.

With screeching breaks I
follow at a calmer pace.

“Go Grandma”, calls a smart ass
Aloof, I turn my face.

I could be baking cookies, I
could be knitting socks.

Instead I join my grandsons
scrambling over rocks.

I could be watching T.V.
or at a ladies’ club.

Instead I join them hiking
when they go  with  the cubs.

I’m glad that I, a grandma
can still do all these things.

Being active with my
grandsons – oh what joy that brings.

We have such fun together out
in the cool fresh air.

And if people think it’s
funny – I really couldn’t care!

October 2007

Now climbing mountains with them is even scarier – Firstborn and Second born are 15 months apart in age and tower above me. They race up the mountain like mountain goats with no consideration for their safety and laugh at me when I tell them to please be careful.  Their younger cousins, are not far behind either while I huff and puff and worry that I’m going to have to call emergency services to bring them down in a helicopter! When did this happen? I thought I was still fit but I can’t rock hop anymore!

But if this is old – that’s okay!  They laugh at me now because I fuss about their safety but they still won’t let me off coming along for the fun.  Aren’t I a lucky grandma!

Second and Fourth grandchild scaring me silly