Milestone Week

Last week was a period of milestone events at the Marble household.  Two things took place that are both time/age related.

First, and most importantly, the twins have their first car.  It’s a near perfect black Tracker.  Big Al spotted it for sale by the side of the road when we were returning from Wheaton.

Low mileage, one owner, meticulously maintained, we were thrilled at our good fortune.  The twins were blown away by their early birthday present.  We surprised them with an envelope containing two keys at dinner one night.  At first they simply thought we were going a bit overboard in presenting them with duplicate keys to our “momma” van.

No surprise we spent the next two hours slowly driving around an empty parking lot at Crowder.  Fortunately for their middle-aged parents they are very careful and thoughtful drivers.  I’m confident this round of student driver excursions will be much less stressful than their older sister’s experience.

What a blessing the passage of time and the compounding of age can be to one’s memory.

Like all parents, it’s hard to believe when your children seemingly grow overnight from training wheels to V6 engines.  How does the passage of time always catch us off-guard like that?

Our next time marker of the week belongs solely on my head – literally.

I surprised myself a few weeks ago by becoming completely engrossed in a magazine article devoted entirely to “brave” women who were letting their hair go naturally gray.  The writer detailed clarifying shampoos to remove “product” build-up and help enhance the gray hair’s natural shine.  Additionally, good shampoos and conditions were checked off according to their ability to make fading hair color seem like a bold fashion statement

So there I was Sunday, in Walgreens, pacing the shampoo aisle.  Reading the labels on each bottle as if I was part of a TV reality show scavenger hung, looking for clues.  Finally I had to break down and ask a clerk for help.  She happily replied that they did have one shampoo appropriate for me, evening offering to “show it to me.”

That would have been ok, but it’s what followed that made me catch my breath.  If you’re a middle-age woman, you know what’s coming next.  She said the “m” word – ma’am.  Just strap me to a rocking chair.

I know it’s good manners.  I know my parents would have swatted my Oklahoma behind as a child if I hadn’t responded to one of my older female relatives by using “ma’am.”  The point is the “older” designation.

Regardless, I have to admit.  I bought the shampoo for silver highlights.  I bought the leave-in conditioner.  I like the results.

Maybe if we take a student driver run tonight, I’ll roll my window down.  I’ll let some of that jaw-dropping gray hair blow around in the wind.  I will make sure to admire my reflection in the rearview mirror and remark to my reflection how “with-it” I look for a ma’am.