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402 days. 402 (plus or minus… mostly minus) posts.

Category: Family

Day 20: Here’s The List

I love a good list. I really do. I make them all the time. Unfortunately, I tend to lose them pretty swiftly after making them (I found one from 2009 in my costume box last week). Since it occurred to me today that my youngest sister is visiting me in one short week, I am making a public list of stuff I need to do before she gets here. I can Google it whenever I forget what it says.

For usability purposes, I wrote it to myself, as myself. That way, it’s like a good pep talk (go get ’em, tiger!).

To Do

1. Hide her presents. You love telling people what you got them before they open their gifts, but it’s really only fun if they haven’t already seen the goods.

2. Fix the constantly running toilet. You’re crafty and you have two hands—you can adjust the chain or get a new plugger thingy. Better yet, you can use your dexterity to call the landlord.

3. Give Brian Boitano some fresh water. Seriously, he’s living in a marble slum right now and it’s embarrassing.

4. Ask her if she drinks dairy milk or soy milk. And then buy more soy milk.

5. For goodness sake, throw away that old grape. Your science experiment turned it into a raisin and now it’s just an old raisin.

6. Either put the vacuum back in the closet or use it. It’s been sitting in the kitchen since Thanksgiving and it’s starting to look like a sculpture.

7. Come up with a list of medical mysteries she can solve while she’s visiting. She’s a med student. She knows everything.

8. Come up with a list of things you know more about than she does so you can demonstrate that you’ll always be older and wiser.

9. Enlist your middle sister for help with number 8.

10. Optional: Finish making the college graduation gift you promised to give her two and a half years ago when she graduated. And then hide it.

Day 9: We Are(n’t) Young

A friend and I went to a concert last night night (on a weekday night… wild!). The band was fantastic, the audience was happy and fun, and the bartender was equal parts grouchy and endearing.

Blog-as-diary in three… two…

We were the oldest people there.

But we blended in well. Skinny jeans, messy buns, strategically placed “Oh, this old thing?” scarves.  And it didn’t bother me that we were respectively old; it just occurred to me.

I don’t actually feel any different than I did ten years ago. Sure, a few things have changed. Now, I spend an extra minute poking and prodding at my messy bun until most of my grey hair is covered. And if I felt stressed out in 2002, I’d snowball myself into tears. In 2012, I just get sort of crabby and the left side of my face goes numb. A sign of maturity, I believe.

If I were my mother, I would currently be the proud parent of a four-year-old and a two-year old, and have another bundle of joy on the way. I’d live in a house with a yard and would carpool to preschool with my favorite next-door neighbor.

As not-my-mother, I have a fish and three complicated plants that miraculously come back to life every few weeks. I live in an apartment, grow herbs in the parking lot (also miraculous) and really only talk to my neighbors when my underwear escapes from my laundry pile and sits in the hallway for a couple of days (“Whose is that?! So weird.).

The not-doing-what-your-parents-did mentality is not new. I’m just surprised at how quickly and accidentally it manifested itself.

Day 4: The Binder

I have a binder full of two women.

My extremely thoughtful mother saved and printed every instant message conversation we exchanged while I was in college. It was back in AIM‘s heyday, so there at least 300 pages. The binder is filled with insight into a relationship between a firstborn exploring independence and a mother trying to let her have it from 2,000 miles away. Concern, gratitude, virtual eye-rolls—it’s all in there.

From spring of sophomore year:

Mom: You didn’t really blow off work yesterday, right? It was a day off? Also, please find out what info you need in order to buy a parking permit.
Me: Mom. I wouldn’t just blow off work, obviously. They gave us the day off.
Me: They would SEE me blowing it off.
Mom: I know that. You are a good girl.
Mom: A really bad thing just happened to dad.
Me: What?
Mom: He turned on the stove for tea and his robe started on fire. I am totally serious.
Me: Oh my gosh!
Me: I’m sorry; it sounds somewhat humorous… Is he okay??
Mom: He is okay, but I am not exaggerating that there were flames shooting off of his arm and the back of his robe. He is okay, but not thinking it is humorous at the moment.
Me: Wow, did he get burned?
Mom: No, but his robe is probably shot.
Me: Well, that’s okay.
Mom: He didn’t get burned. Our house smells really bad.
Me: I bet. Gross.
Mom: So anyway, back to the subject at hand. Will you get a parking permit? You have no plates yet but you can purchase one without that.

Related: When Parents Text.