Let’s Try This Again

When I was a kid, I looked forward to maturity.

Not old age, mind you. Maturity. When you could stay up as late as you wanted with no one to tell you otherwise. Eat dessert first if you wanted. Drink hot chocolate and read all day.

Maturity, when you’d become a poised, confident, serene woman, instead of an often-clumsy, tentative, ‘fraidy-cat child.

So when is this maturity supposed to arrive? ‘Cos it hasn’t yet, and I’d have thought it should have by now.

Take the other night for example.

I’d driven my mom somewhere and pulled into the driveway expecting to push the button on her rear view mirror that would open the garage door. It didn’t work.

‘Where’s your actual remote control?’ I asked.

‘Inside the house,’ Mom said.

Great. Since the front storm door was latched, one of us was going to have to traipse around to the back door and through the house to get to the garage.

‘I’ll go,’ Mom volunteered.

Sure. Who wants to be responsible for an 80-year-old woman stumbling around in the dark, trying to open a door?

‘Let me,’ I insisted (and she didn’t try to talk me out of it!)

I left the car and approached the gate (the same one the yard man seemed to “forget” to close earlier). After several attempts to unlatch it, I grew irritated when it refused to open.

Glancing around, I decided I’d simply hop (!) over the fence.

No big deal. I’d hopped many a fence when I was a kid.

No chain-link fences, but what difference could that make?

Ditto for not being thirteen any more.

So I threw one leg over the top of the fence but found I had no toe-hold. My jeans leg and boot got caught in the top of the fencing and, before I could blink, one leg was suspended mid-air while the rest of me was scrambling around in the damp, muddy grass!

Such poise. Such grace. Such bravado.

Such maturity.

I’m fortunate I didn’t break something. Shoot, I’m fortunate it was dark and the neighbors weren’t glued to their windows!

19 thoughts on “Let’s Try This Again

  1. Too Funny! I’m glad you were not hurt but give your mom a hug without her you would not have this story to share, or found out you could climb over a fence and not kill yourself. Let’s skip maturity and just go with “I’m a grown up” so I can stay up late, eat dessert, not wear my coat, and drink hot chocolate and read all day IF I WANT TOO and then P your tongue out for good measure.

    • Thanks, Katybeth — perhaps maturity is overrated. Perhaps all we need is an ability to laugh at ourselves (and not be toooo stupid in the process!) I think Mom realized when I was little that I was never going to be one of those “girly-girls” dressed in lace and frills; rather, I tended to be a Tomboy, climbing trees and fences, skinning knees and playing sports!

  2. Debbie,
    How interesting that this is the topic you should choose today. Just yesterday as I was carefully making my way to my car over snow covered sidewalks I was doing a bit of musing about the fact that most adults I’ve met have a story about falling down and being embarrassed about it. So, I asked myself, why are we embarrassed about doing something that all of us do. Must mean that adults don’t ever grow up. You think?

    The last time I fell, about 4 years ago, I was walking across my bedroom one minute and flat on my back on the floor the next. The culprit? My granddaughter’s toy car. But the best part about the fall was the look on my daughter’s face as she came racing to check on me. I laughed so hard about the fall and her face that it took me a while to regain a vertical position.

    I can so relate to your story. Well told.

    • Thanks for empathizing, Yvonne. I don’t remember ever tripping over any of my son’s toys — except Legos, and believe me, those things HURT when they come in contact with bare feet! I imagine it’s good for kids to see adults doing child-like things like tripping every now and then; that sort of thing puts to rest the myth I picked up about being too grown-up to be clumsy!

  3. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help but laugh! I could picture myself doing something like this. Thank goodness for darkness 🙂

    When my older son was five, we went roller skating with him. I managed to stay on my wheels the whole time…until my son lost his balance and caught my skate, toppling me over. I had a huge blue/purple bruise on my behind for weeks! Now I know that skating has an expiration date (and it’s before age 34!)

    • Sorry, Janna, but I laughed out loud at your skating misadventure! Yes, I’m fortunate all this took place under cover of darkness, though my neighbors’ light was on and I shudder to think they might have seen (or heard) my commotion!

    • I’m lucky I’m not at the brittle bone age yet! Must be all that milk I drank as a kid. The only thing is, most fences then were wooden with plenty of hand- and foot-holds, whereas today, they’re chain-link. I didn’t take that into consideration!

  4. Does it make me a terrible person that I’m laughing my ass off right now? OMG, Debbie, this one’s hysterical! I’m sorry you fell, I really am, but damn the thought of the neighbors being glued to their window as you attempted your footloose move really tickled my funny bone! And who’s fault is it you nearly broke a leg? Your mom’s, of course! Incidentally, she reminds me of my mom. This sounds exactly like something my mom would pull! hee hee!

    • Of course you’re not a terrible person, Bella — if this had happened to somebody else who’d blogged about it to the whole world, I’d have been laughing, too! I suppose, if the neighbors HAD been watching, they’d have been too busy rolling on the floor laughing to call the police and tell them to arrest the “burglar” at my house!

    • That’s funny, Rebecca! Kids go through that from pre-teen to early twenties. My son, thankfully, is just about to finish that “stage” and I’m hoping that once again I’ll become Super-Mom, ha!

  5. I hate to admit I’ve done the chain link fence dangle before…but at least not in a long time. So glad your pride remained intact by no one witnessing it!

    • You, too, huh?! Somehow, that makes me feel a LOT better — like I’m not the only “dare-devil” in the world, ha! Thanks for your confession, Suzicate!

  6. Debbie,
    I love it! You are the Queen of humor writing. Hands down. You take an everyday,universal topic and weave all the little details into a tale that has me laughing out loud. I not only picture you but I can also picture myself dangling from that chain link fence and being so grateful that it is too dark for anyone else to see. Thanks so much for the laughter 🙂 Delightful!

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