As I was rummaging through piles of receipts this weekend, I happened across random photos taken over the last seven years of me, and some even earlier than that of my sons.  I find that, with age, they are evolving into grown men, only remnants of youth flicker across their faces when I look at them.  I now understand with more clarity why Moms continue to treat their grown children as if they were much younger…..our eyes play tricks on us and we don’t see chin whiskers or “man muscles”…..we see small boys (or girls for that matter) who had lemonade stands, hung a sheet out a bedroom window to escape being grounded…tadpoles living in a rain bucket on the deck and a thousand and one moments that lie just beneath the surface of our smiles as our children, now young adults, tease us if we use the wrong slang, listen to “old people” music in the car, and may occasionally squint at restaurant menus.  I’m one of the lucky moms…my sons have promised to keep me up to date on what “not” to say or do by giving me a journal to keep notes in.  What a great memoir to pass onto them when I die or maybe I could turn it into a best seller somehow…you know, and save another unassuming parent from ultimate embarrassment which will certainly happen, given Murphy’s Law. In looking at pictures of myself I suddenly realized that all that worrying about my hair, my makeup, etc., was wasted as I looked pretty darn good and never realized it.  Now it seems as though the tiny creases are extending beyond the corners of my eyes, there is just the hint of sagging in my chin and even my once beautiful red hair is darkening like a fall leaf once the days of summer grow short.  For some people, they almost embrace this phase of life and begin to calmly accept age spots, flapping arms, facial hair and the dreaded breast droop but not I.  In my mind I am smooth skinned, devilish and quite carefree; fiercely independent and in my sensual prime.  I have too many adventures yet to be had, places to visit and people to love than worry about what I have squandered gleefully in youth.  After all, I am getting that handy notebook to keep me from disgracing my children and I am not retiring my stilettos just yet. One never knows, disco might just come back 🙂