A happy St. Patrick's Day from our deck to yours...With a wee bit of Irish blood in my ancestry, this is a holiday we always anticipated in years past. Almost more fun than filling the stockings on Christmas Eve was sneaking around the night before Shamrock Day to hide pennies, color the milk green and overturn furniture - mischief to be blamed on those tricky leprechauns who messed everything up and left little green footprints all around the house. One year our snow white cat even sported green stripes.
Sophisticated college girls now, my daughters are no longer awed by upside-down chairs and books turned backwards on the shelves. I might put Shrek ears on a goat, but the lure of plotting with imaginary little green men no longer exists. Still, those were good times...
How does a middle-aged mom stay current with teenagers who seem farther and farther away every semester? I try to connect by reading their book recommendations, watching Breaking Bad, listening to Vampire Weekend and learning about the Twigg Stitch (a knitting term, if you're wondering), but still the chasm widens as my once-little girls grow up. So I ask, can you blame me for what I tried today?
Home for spring break, Megan's been keeping busy with friends, projects, and daily workouts in the basement. Maybe it was the trendy yoga pants or the pert ponytail, but as I saw her heading downstairs the words just spilled from my mouth. "Wait up, Megs, I'll work out with you today." (After all, I used to do aerobics when they were first invented, took a class even, before kids. Here's an activity we can do together - surely the steps haven't changed that much in twenty years?)
Megan is nothing if not gracious. Her hesitation was barely evident before she nodded. "Sure, Mom, that's great. I'm doing a high-intensity cardio-dance video today. Ready now?"
I like to learn new things - here's my lesson for today. When you're my age, stick to goats. Push a broom back and forth, haul some hay bales. Leave zumba and hip-hop to the kids. Nine hours after that last uncoordinated kick, my limbs are still quivering jello and I may need help getting up from the couch. Just like leprechaun mischief, maybe some things (like the mamba triple-twist scissor kick) are best kept as distant memories...
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