Tour of Duty

     "She's 27 years old for God's sake, when the hell isn't it going to be my fault or my responsibility?"

Eavesdropping on two women as I exited the gym locker room (which wasn't hard since the speaker was shouting), I outed myself by laughing uproariously all the way to my car. Later that week I shared the story with a chic, enlightened 85 year old friend and finished with an embellishment of my own. 

     "I"m fairly certain if one of my kids at 65 knocks over a bank I'm going to be interviewed about my parenting abilities."

Nancy giggled (which at 85 is a beautiful thing) adding,

     "But if the little buggers happen to win the Nobel Peace Prize no one will ask you to stand alongside at the podium."

     Don't look for a round of applause.

     Forget about a vacation.

     Parenthood is a lifer task.

I like to imagine jobs exiting my To Do List. But the reality is that the laundry is never "finished", the house gets dirty again, I shower daily, a pedicure lasts three weeks if I'm lucky and those beings who ejected in gory splendor from my womb aren't gonna be "done". The timer isn't going to go off on the oven and the pair of them aren't going to be a nice golden brown, smelling yummy while waving off all of my obligations. 

     "Don't you mean opportunities?"

     Fiddle-de-de, now you show up?

     "Life is an opportunity not a chore."

     Tell that to all the mothers of the world.

     "I'm telling you. You tell them."

     

Done doesn't exist. Retirement is an illusion. Pull the big girl panties up, your tour of duty has no expiration, breathe deeply and mentor on.