Can you retire from this?
I just read online that Pamela Anderson is retiring. I don’t know about you, but ShOckeD is not a word to describe how I felt reading this news. In fact I was more stunned when I saw Peter Frampton on a Geico commercial. Where’s the hair, Peter? And what you have left is white!
It’s just a fact of life that we all are getting older. Some of us still have hair (and for some it’s still styled like our high school senior pictures!), but all of us have to deal with changing bodies. The other day I patted my daughter on her seat and told her she had a cute boochy. “Yours is jiggly,” she said. “And so are your boobs.” Can you see this child having NO friends in high school if she continues to be compelled to tell it like it is?
I half-fell out of bed in the middle of the night trying to spring myself free from the wedge of bed created between my husband and daughter. He had a leg over mine and her arm was over my chest and in my shirt. It’s nice to be loved, but please. I really like to sleep without being pinned to the mattress.
I managed to land on the floor without breaking any bones or wrenching any major muscles, but it wasn’t easy. But I’m sure later I will feel the effects of catapulting myself without first warming up.
The other day I tried to entertain the boys with the ol’ fake walking down the steps routine, or the fake escalator ride. (As in the Austin Powers movie and more recently, a BudLight commercial.) They were at the kitchen table and I was on the other side of the island. I did the fake walk down the stairs and tried to disguise my knees popping with a cough or two. And then I did the escalator ride. And then…I couldn’t walk because of the burning in my thighs. Apparently I do have muscles and they aren’t accustomed to squats.
Time to try and reverse—or at least stall—the aging process and work out. Or I might just be like my namesake, Ms. Anderson, and retire from trying to keep up with my kids.
It’s just a fact of life that we all are getting older. Some of us still have hair (and for some it’s still styled like our high school senior pictures!), but all of us have to deal with changing bodies. The other day I patted my daughter on her seat and told her she had a cute boochy. “Yours is jiggly,” she said. “And so are your boobs.” Can you see this child having NO friends in high school if she continues to be compelled to tell it like it is?
I half-fell out of bed in the middle of the night trying to spring myself free from the wedge of bed created between my husband and daughter. He had a leg over mine and her arm was over my chest and in my shirt. It’s nice to be loved, but please. I really like to sleep without being pinned to the mattress.
I managed to land on the floor without breaking any bones or wrenching any major muscles, but it wasn’t easy. But I’m sure later I will feel the effects of catapulting myself without first warming up.
The other day I tried to entertain the boys with the ol’ fake walking down the steps routine, or the fake escalator ride. (As in the Austin Powers movie and more recently, a BudLight commercial.) They were at the kitchen table and I was on the other side of the island. I did the fake walk down the stairs and tried to disguise my knees popping with a cough or two. And then I did the escalator ride. And then…I couldn’t walk because of the burning in my thighs. Apparently I do have muscles and they aren’t accustomed to squats.
Time to try and reverse—or at least stall—the aging process and work out. Or I might just be like my namesake, Ms. Anderson, and retire from trying to keep up with my kids.
Comments
She talked through the entire song we saw, "Is that guy dead now?", "How about him?", "What's with her hair?", "Please, this is so HOOKEY!!" If only Roy had rapped Blue Bayou she might have listened.
I handed her the remote and she channel surfed until she found a performance by Akon (alias Konvict) spitting out lyrics in Montreal. I looked at the clock and realized it was 9:30 on a Saturday night and went to bed.
I never ask her if my butt looks big in a pair of pants!!
Love you, Mother
To Pamela's mother: That was a really sweet comment!