Larry and I did the teamwork thing this evening in order to get the Sudafed into Susie's mouth before bedtime. He held down her legs and arms; at the same time, I immobilized her head with one forearm while sticking the medicine syringe (lovingly) into her screaming mouth. We're quite good at this maneuver, having had much practice over the years. Which made me realize: soon I won't need this skill (and others like it) at all. In a few years there will be no screaming toddlers or babies to force into hard-to-buckle car seats (damn those 5-point harnesses!) or strollers. There will be no incredibly messy diapers to clean up, and we won't need syringes to administer medicine. In fact, all the skills that I have so painstakingly developed over the past 16 or so years will soon be completely irrelevant.
In other words, my iceberg is melting. And it's a frightening feeling. The only useful know-how I'll be left with will be some rudimentary knitting skills. That and a few bucks will get me a tall latte.
Speaking of knitting, I made the mistake on Wednesday of (brightly) announcing to my Stitch 'n' Bitch group that there would be a lunar eclipse that night! Silence. Everyone looked at me for a second, and then they continued talking to each other as if I had done nothing more than emit an embarrassingly loud belch. Apparently, knitters don't care much (as a group) about the moon. After all, there are no sheep there.
I got confused, you see; in homeschooling circles, a lunar eclipse is the conversational centerpiece for days surrounding the actual event. Everyone keeps their kids up late to watch, and if yours don't get to see it, they feel left out. You would think that an eclipse had never happened before, the way we carry on. It's almost pathetic.
But the eclipse was really cool.
Perusing the news online, I stumbled across Midlife Suicide Rises, Puzzling Researchers. Might I suggest that said researchers must be happy young people in their 20's and 30's, people who, I daresay, don't have teenagers yet? Because I, for one, am not puzzled by this phenomenon in the least. Just let one of those researchers get up morning after morning to look in a mirror that utterly betrays her and then go downstairs to face an adolescent who is only too happy to let her know what a loser she is, what with having been dumb enough to grow up and do boring things like work and pay bills and boss her kids around. Let this young chippy of a researcher do that, and then ask her if she is still puzzled. That is, if she isn't crying too hard to talk.
And, no, that above paragraph is not a cry for help. I plan to live long enough to see my children suffer at the hands of their teenagers. In fact, I smile just thinking about it.