T&A and a Great Big N

I woke up at 4:00 a.m. and couldn't get back to sleep.  After a short trip to the bathroom, I crawled back in between my Pure Beech 100% Modal sheets, being careful not to lay on the hip that was punishing me for being old and not turning over earlier. 

When I was younger, I could sleep fourteen hours on one side without anything aching or having to get up to tinkle even once.  And that was before I could afford good, comfortable sheets! 

Then I remembered what day it was.  The day my tag expires at midnight.  The day I have to write a different number in the box at the Dr.'s office.  The day I get to eat all the white cake with vanilla butter cream frosting I want without remorse. 

So there I lay, thinking things over, amazed at how magical time is.  One day, you're a kid sitting in a bucket seat swing, feeling your best friend's hands on your back as she pushes you harder, and you go higher and higher.  And by the time that swing dies down and is still again, a lot of years have gone by and you find yourself awake at 4:00 in the morning, wondering where they all went to and why they left you with hips that hurt, things that sag, and fine lines and wrinkles on a body that used to be pretty tight.  Gee, time, thanks a lot.  You shouldn't have.

I remembered the time I was Tupelo Honey Queen, in a parade standing on a float in a long gown, waving to folks on both sides of the street.  They all seemed wildly interested in me and must have found much humor in the way my float was decorated because lots of them were pointing and laughing and I was just having myself a ball up there!  Then I noticed the letter N had fallen off the "TUPELO BEEKEEPER'S ASSN" lettering on the side of the float.  So here's the lesson I learned that day.  Do not abbreviate anything.  Life is short.  Make it longer.  Do not make the N do all the work. 

Then there was the time many years later after I'd had my second child.  I took six months maternity leave and enjoyed it very much, but was anxious to return to the other babies at the law firm where I worked and still do to this day.  I tried hard to get back into shape by eating with the right fork and exercising my right to be lazy and nursing my new baby even after I was told he was lactose intolerant.  Being that I am not a bovine, the doctor said the baby might outgrow it and urged me to give it a week or so.  Sure enough, my little calf did just that and the nursing continued and burned lots and lots of calories.

Anyway, the morning of my first day back to work, I put on real clothes and high heels, eager to enjoy a break from my kids rejoin the work force.  When I arrived, I began my two block strut walk from my parking space.  I held my head high as I made my way down the street and I must have looked a whole lot better than I thought I did because every single person in every single car that drove past me was staring and smiling. A few even waved!  Someone yelled something I couldn't quite understand but it sounded a lot like, "Hey, Buttercup"!

Let me tell you, there is absolute POWER in having a big set of ta-tas (even if it's just because you're a nursing mother) and I was already doing the math in my head about how much I'd need to save to buy myself some real, fake ones after the milk factory went out of business.  Then as I stood in front of the Firm's massive front door, I looked down to insert my key into the lock and I saw it.  Them.  There they were for all the world to see.  My blouse had come unbuttoned to the waist and I was flashing my ultra sexy J.C. Penney Cotton Nursing Bra with Removable Washable Liners to the entire downtown working population.   "Hey, Button Up."  I looked down again, just to see if there was an "N" somewhere on the welcome mat.

Somebody asked me what I want to do for my birthday today.  I think I might just find that N, go to the park, toss it on the ground and sit my ass in a swing.  See how high I can go...