My Daughter is Hip to the Musics of Today and Other Things That Make Me Feel Old

I don't get hung up on age. Wait, scratch that. I don't get hung up on MY age, though I spend probably too much time thinking about how old other people are. I don't know why I do this. Whether I'm comparing my kids to other kids on the playground, or considering how old my new coworkers are so I don't make cultural references they aren't likely to get, it's something that runs through my mind frequently.

But generally, I don't feel markedly different than I recall feeling 10 years ago. Joints might creak a bit more, and my left elbow occasionally feels strained, but that has more to do with lugging two kids around for nearly four years than anything else.

That said, there are a few things that DO make me feel old. In no particular order:

* I was in Target with LG yesterday, and as we passed the electronics section, she stopped to look at the music videos playing on the monitor. I've long since learned to tune these things out, but she can't pass a screen without stopping to take it in. After all, you never know when a TV might spontaneously start playing Frozen. We weren't done shopping, and I managed to coax her away from the screens. She started singing, which is nothing new, and we moved on. Later, as we loaded up the car, I asked her what music she wanted to listen to on our drive home. We have Spotify, and I maintain several playlists full of kids' music as well as other things I want her to hear. This was the conversation that transpired.

LG: Play the Close Your Eyes song.
Me: I don't know what that is. Is that on one of Caspar Babypants songs? Or Laurie Berkner?
LG: No, no. It's a band that sings "close your eyes, hey-o, hey-o."
Me: No idea. Where did you hear that?
LG: In the store! I was singing it! There was a guy in a video who had a beard and he looked like you.
Me: I have no idea what you're talking about, but let's see if we can find it. Do you know any words?
LG (very insistently): I just told you! "Close your eyes, hey-o, hey-o!!!"
Me: Okay, okay! I'll Google it!

Turns out, she was surprisingly close on the lyrics, and the song is "Pompeii" by Bastille, and I can only assume she saw a commercial in the electronics section for the Target-exclusive version of their album. There is one guy in the band with a beard, and he looks nothing like me, and is at least 7 years younger. I vaguely recall fast-forwarding past their performance on a recent episode of Saturday Night Live.

So that's where we are. I am the guy who skips the music on SNL, and my three year old has to tell me about a song that hit #5 in the U.S (currently #25 on the Hot 100).

But if she starts singing Iggy Azalea, I'm going to flip out. See? So old.

* My youngest brother is five and a half years younger than me. When he graduated from high school, I didn't feel old. Didn't feel any different when he graduated from college, got a job, bought a house or got married.

But last week, he and his wife had a son. And nothing makes you feel older than your baby brother calling to talk about diaper changing strategies. Except for the fact that you actually have advice to give on the subject. I was in my 20s (too young to feel old) the first time I became an uncle. But this time? If I had any hair, I expect I'd be seeing some gray.

My head may take up more of the frame, but this little guy is the main attraction.

* We went camping over the weekend, and there was not one second of the entire night spent sleeping on a wafer-thin bed roll that I didn't feel like a 1000-year-old man.

So. Much. Pain.

How did I do this six times a year from age 8 to 18? More to the point, how did my dad do it when he came with us on trips? And how has bed roll technology not gotten any better in 17 years?

The fact that I hopped merrily out of the tent in the morning had more to do
with the relative comfort of standing than my desire to be awake. 

Also, the campground where we stayed had an arcade in the back of the main lodge. The most recent game in the place was Konami's Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II, which came out in 1989, and we owned for the Super NES.

Yeah, NEWEST game in the building was from 25 years ago, and it was AMAZING.

A Serious Post about a Serious Thing

One month ago today, I experienced something that could have changed my life—and the lives of each member of my family—forever, and not for the better. Some of you have heard the story, and some haven't, but in the interest of providing a teaching moment, I'll share it here.

The short version: In one moment, I was cooking dinner at the stove; LG was dancing in the hallway to the left of the kitchen; and G2 was playing on the kitchen floor by the refrigerator, about 6 feet behind me. In the next moment, the cabinet 2 feet to my right—containing our stoneware and glassware—came crashing to the floor. The cabinet glanced off the countertop, pivoted on its way down, scraped down the side of my right calf and ankle in the split second that I turned toward the initial noise, and landed on the floor about 2 feet from my son, expelling broken glass and cracked dishes around him.

Now, because it's been a month, and you haven't heard any horrifying news about my family, you can safely and rightly assume that everyone is fine. I suffered only minor physical injuries, and short of a few minutes of crying from both children—largely as a response to the noise caused by the incident and my adrenaline-fueled scream-leap-and-scoop maneuver to get G2 away from the shards that surrounded him—the kids are fine, too.

The mental toll, however, is another matter entirely. Four weeks later, I can talk about it, even laugh it off, to some extent. But in the hours and days that followed, I was a wreck. "What if..." scenarios filled my dreams while I slept and fueled panic attacks when I was awake. I won't bore you with the myriad iterations of damage, injury or worse that I've conjured since then. Those of you with children can fill in the blanks yourselves; those of you without, I'm sure can at least consider what I might have lost in the fraction of a second it took for that cabinet to hit the floor.

My father, in an effort to put to words that which I could not in the aftermath of the incident, wrote the following:

We live in a precarious world. Never knowing when or if we may fall victim to some unforeseen calamity that could forever change our lives. Whether caught up in a sudden natural disaster or simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time when danger strikes by human hand, the result is the same, a personal universe destroyed or irreparably harmed. These thoughts are far from our minds as we live out our daily lives busily scurrying to and fro. We only rarely experience or expect impending doom to exact its punishing effects upon ourselves or our psyche. But ready or not we must know that life is a tenuous thing, filled with uncertainty and possibilities for which we are unprepared. 

It is our reasoned expectation that we are safest in our own home, surrounded by the familiar and ensconced in the pleasing realm of family life. Then we are suddenly caught unawares, and for a time that feeling of security is shattered. This too will pass. The lingering effect of such an incident, however chilling, can serve to remind us of who and what we are and from whence we came as well as how fragile life can be.  

Thanks, Dad. Couldn't have put it better myself.

This incident has taught me two very important truths: one sort-of philosophical, the other more practical.

Be grateful for what you have. I can't believe I'm quoting Joni Mitchell, but "Don't it always seem to go/That you don't know what you've got/Till it's gone." Life is fast. Life is ephemeral. Everything can change in an instant. Don't take that for granted.

Never assume the person who installed your cabinetry knew what they were doing. The cabinet that fell was the largest single unit in my kitchen, and it's been there, holding those dishes, for the seven years we've lived in this house, and holding who-knows-what for who-knows-how-long before we moved in. It was held up by only two screws, one of which was drilled straight into drywall, not a stud. If you take nothing else from this story take this: It's worth your time to quickly double-check anything of moderate weight that is affixed to a wall in your home. It would not have occurred to me to do such a thing before, but it certainly will now.

I realize this post is not entertaining or replete with stories about the wacky things my kids get up to, but it is important. If nothing else, it's been a helpful exercise for me in getting over the what-might-have-been and getting back to the now.

Thanks for reading. Here are cute pictures of my kids.