day 107: thankful with a smidge of worry

I woke up just not completely okay with something.

And I didn't know what.

And I didn't know why.

It started at 7:28. We had to leave by 7:30. And the girls still weren't dressed. And I yelled. "Mom, why do you have to yell at me?" R asked. I told her it was because she wasn't listening, and I was irritated. "Well, that's no reason to yell!" She was right.

Then McK had to give me 14 hugs before I left her at camp. And she stepped on my bare toes 3 of those times. It hurt. And I was irritated....because of a hug.

The 30-minute drive to run an errand before going to school helped me regain my focus....and then that sign that loomed in front of me called my very own name. Garage Sale. 7-family. I was drawn like a fish that spots a plump worm. Cute, brand new flats, never worn, $1. Yellow gingham fabric 25 cents. New yellow & black lava lamp for my classroom, $1. Books for our road trip, $3. Vintage dish, 10 cents.

But in the midst of my bargaining, there came Bertha. She was there with Mary Ellen. (Names have not been changed to protect their privacy) Bertha was dizzy, and Mary Ellen asked the garage sale givers if they could please let her sit down. "Now did you take all your pills this morning, Bertha?" Mary Ellen drilled her friend. "Well, we'll take it extra slow walking to the car, and I'll get you a donut before I take you home."

A short distance away, while skimming over holiday decorations and computer games, I fell prey to Dianne and Fern's conversation. "Well, Fern, it's been forever! How are you holding up since Henry passed away? It's been four years for me now already."

There my garage sale glory ended.

I do not want to get old.

And I don't mean turning 32 two months from now.

I mean old like that. Like them. Is that bad?

I left, partly thrilled with my finds, but partly worried, too.

And then I spotted her.

I'll call her Betty, since I didn't eavesdrop on any of her conversations enough to know her name. She was old, too, and had been at the garage sale. But she left for home on her bicycle. Pedaling away, contentedly, garage sale finds in the basket of her bike. She looked sweet, and old....and happy.

Then I kid you not, 5 minutes later, there it was again. But an old man this time. Bicycling to who knows where, named who knows what. Dress pants, black shoes, long sleeve button-down shirt. And suspenders. The old chap had on suspenders. (And no, he wasn't Amish). He looked determined, a little tired....but happy.

I'm often worried that I'm not the best mom I can be. Am I raising my kids in the way I should?

And I'm sometimes scared at the thought of getting older. Am I going to be riding my bike at 65 or dependent upon pills and a chair?

Fast forward to 10 minutes ago. Supper is over, and McK heads to the totes of crafts. A girl on a mission, she digs until she finds her desire: the box of beads, an envelope, and some old, much used pencils. R soon joined her, silently, but they seemed to be working in the same direction. What was going on here? Then I put two-and-two together. Tomorrow is the girls' last day of zoo camp. Completely without any prodding from me, they were both setting out to make thank-you gifts for their zookeeper teachers.

I sure hope they appreciate just an ounce of what went into their thank you gifts. These offerings may not be elaborate, or even brand new, but they were made from the heart.

Each teacher is getting a used and experienced pencil with "thank you" written on it with a Sharpie and sealed in an envelope with each girl's name on it. And, to top it off, hand-made beaded bracelets, in pink, purple, and white. I know their teacher Zac will appreciate that one the most.

So....I suppose growing old is a fair trade for being able to watch these kids grow up. I'll take that. And if they're being this kind of thoughtful and thankful without me pushing and prodding, then I guess I'm doing something right.