Older

I feel I spend a lot of time on this blog marveling/bemoaning how quickly time is flying. The kids are growing up and getting big. Even though Violet is changing faster, it's the changes I see in Jack that often give me the most pangs. Violet is still firmly ensconced in baby/toddlerhood. But I feel Jack is right on the cusp of being a pretty big kid now. I am preemptively mourning the day when school and other kids and life in general toughen the sweetness and baby-ness out of him. I know the day will come when it will no longer be "cool" for him to show much he loves the things he loves now, like Pooh and his sister. And his mother.

Just the other day, he told us that yellow had replaced purple as his favorite color. That made me feel a little wistful. I've always liked that he ignored gender conventions and steadfastly chose a traditionally female color as his favorite. The fact that he named his sister Violet made it all the more significant to me. I don't think that changing his favorite color to something more gender neutral is a sign of him becoming more aware of gender roles or anything, but it is a sign that he is changing.

(We joked to him that, now that his favorite color is yellow, we'd have to rename his sister. We started suggesting all the yellow flower names we could think of: Buttercup, Daffodil, Daisy, Goldenrod, Dandelion. He was getting actively angry: "No! I DON'T like that!" My poor boy. It's so easy to tease someone who is so earnest.)

For Christmas, my parents got him a set of Angry Birds pajamas. Up until then, the only pajamas that he would wear are these Winnie the Pooh pajamas ("Poohjamas") that were handed down from our friends. He was so excited the first time he put on the Angry Birds PJs, and I was thinking how much I would miss the Poohjamas. Thankfully, I think he finds the Poohjamas a little more comfortable, so I haven't had to say goodbye yet.

Meanwhile, from the file "the more things change, the more they stay the same," Violet is getting interested in the same Elmo and Pooh videos Jack loved when he was little. (I can't say "at her age," because I think Jack was just a tiny bit younger than Violet is now when we first even let him watch TV, whereas Violet has seen so much already.) It's kind of nice to see both kids enjoy old favorites.

Sometimes it's hard to remember that I'm getting older too. Of course, that's when life happens and makes it manifestly clear just how old I am getting.

Over the past several weeks, I've been finding silver strands of hair popping out on my head when I look in the mirror. It is no longer an isolated case of one here, another one there. If I go looking for them - and sometimes even when I don't - I am sure to find several. It is a very effective way to make myself both crazy and depressed.

Actually, "depressed" isn't the word for it. I consider myself pretty lucky to have lasted this long without having to color my hair. I'm more... "rueful," I guess you could say, that this is a sign that I am indeed getting older.

A more - literally - painful indication that I'm not as young as I once was is that I fell a couple of days ago and broke my elbow. It is a very small fracture, but I'm supposed to keep it immobilized in a sling for up to six weeks. I expect that will be very easy with a 22-month-old.

A former professor once told me, "The best thing that can be said about getting older is that it sure beats the alternative." I'm not quite that cynical yet, but this broken elbow thing is for the birds. Although I will say that the way the sling positions my arm, it very nicely hides my belly flab. And at least it wasn't a hip.

Maybe I'm getting more positive in my old age. :)