July 13, 2009
Part of the problem with being an OLD parent (or as I prefer to call it, a "late bloomer") is that you're sometimes a tired, fuddy duddy parent.
The other day Rob and I were both worn to a frazzle and we had to go do something with the kids that required actual physical energy. Rob was sitting on the edge of the bed watching me get ready.
"My back is really bothering me today for some reason," I said idly. I was softly prepping him to be the one to lift Tristan into the car seat.
He suspected as much, I think, and said, "My back hurts, too."
Me: My back hurt first.
Him: No, I don't think so. I'm older than you, so my back has been hurting a lot longer.
Me: Seriously, my back hurt before we even had kids. In fact, my back hurt when *I* was a kid.
Him: Well, I hurt my back before I was even born. In the womb my back was hurting.
Me: My back hurt in my last life.
Him: My back hurt in the life before my last life.
Me: Well, when I created God who created the Universe, my back was already hurting.
Him: You know the Big Bang? That sound was my back going out.
I laughed and said, "Okay, you win."