Ironic

Today has been a weird day. I was able to sleep late, which was nice. I was awoken to a giant downpour knowing that my 8-year-old was with my husband fishing. Of course, my first instinct was to call them. Sure enough, they were taking refuge in the car. They had to abandon the poles and gear until the storm passed. They were ok, though.

Later, the boys (both kids and dad) were watching National Geographic specials when Hot Rod runs in to tell me that he saw some water moccasins, just like at the lake today while fishing. Yippee. Apparently, the child was instructed NOT to tell me that, but he couldn't keep it in.

I got a call from my mom and dad's neighbor. I thought she was simply RSVPing for their anniversary party. No, she was looking for them because they weren't answering their phone and she knew they were coming to visit this weekend. She wanted to let them know that their next-door neighbor died. Now, let me explain why the irony in this is so fierce. This couple is older than dirt, so a death is not unexpected. What is so double tragic is that the family matriarch has been on death's door for 10 years in and out of the hospital, but she's too mean to die (as my mom likes to say about strong women). The couple has a spinster daughter who is dying of cancer. So, clearly, the death has to be one of these women, right? No. It was the family patriarch, who had been caring for them. He dropped dead of an aneurysm while at a burger joint this weekend. It was just a few weeks ago that me and the old man chased around a half-acre lot to catch his wife's hyper little daschund. He was the picture of health for an old guy. It's just so ironic. Again, I get to be the bearer of bad news to my folks. First, I called my dad at work. Then, I reached my mom. I'm so sad for them and for his ladies. I don't know what these women are going to do without him.

I was walking in a bit of shock for much of the day. I haven't felt exactly myself. I went to the store to get some provisions for lunch and the Alanis Morrissette song came on the radio. I had to fight back the tears because this death is ironic to me. I'm not enjoying being a grown up right now. I don't want to be the one to tell my dad that his brother has Alzheimer's. I don't want to be the one to tell my parents that their beloved neighbor for almost 13 years has died. I want to be the little kid again. Funny, Little Bit is in a rush to grow up. We've been spending lots of time talking about how you know you're a grown up, how old you have to be in order to be considered a grown up. I told her that I don't feel like a grown up. She looked at me like I was all kinds of weird. But, it is true. I still feel like a 9-year-old trapped in this aging body with grey hairs sneaking in.

Isn't it ironic? Don't you think?