I am no spring chicken. I have gray hair, wrinkles, saggy boobs, and arms with wings so big I could fly if I really wanted to.
But.. one thing I must discuss. When I get older, my children will REALLY pay their dues. I will be the worst old person on earth. I will be contrary and cantankerous, demanding and spiteful. I will probably be sweet from time to time, just to throw them off.
I used to take my Aunt Myrtle to the grocery store. We would prepare for days. Her list would be written on a piece of cardboard. It was almost illegible, as she didn’t have much education, and wrote like a doctor anyway.
There is a process for an old person for every little thing. Getting her purse from the bedroom took fifteen minutes. I have no idea why, but it’s a trick I hope to one day perfect. Then, the trip to the car…ten 
minutes to get down the steps, stopping to say “what is that?” while peering at the ground. “It’s a leaf!” I would say. “Get in the car, please.” Actually getting into the car was accompanied by complaints, grunts, hollering “whoooooo” and being told my cousin’s car was much easier to get in and out of.
We always stopped at the mailbox just in case the postman ran three or four times a day. We would often stop “up at the church” so she could check to be sure she didn’t forget her Kleenex or her list, or her pencil or her money or her chap stick or her comb or……….arrrrggggh!!
Then, we would be on the road. Aunt Myrtle was full of wisdom, but it was not the same wisdom as your average old person. She might say, with all sincerity, “If everyone was the same, nobody would be different.” She might tell me a long tale about a wrestling match. She believed with all her heart that wrestling is real.
Or she might tell how she used to live “at the bend of the river, in a tent, cause it was the big “pression.” At those times, I did feel for her. I often had tears in my eyes, when she told of the terrible things they had to go through to get food or clothing. I would say, “Well, this is a new day.” And she would get quiet. I would have to pretend to yawn, so I could wipe my eyes.
It had to be Big Star. There was no other store worth her time. She would walk for hours, touch everything, smell all the meat and produce, and bring home 2 dollars worth of potted meat and Vienna sausage. When I would fuss, she would say, “Well, go back and I will get you a bag of sugar.” I don’t know why she thought I needed sugar, but my grandmother would do the same thing. I guess sugar was a precious commodity during the big ‘pression.
Oh, yeah… there was my grandmother. She had a thing for shoes, so I know I got it honest. She would dress to the nines, put that purse on her arm like the Queen Mother…..(I’m talking about that woman in England) and we would head out to shoe shop. I never saw her buy shoes, but she had dozens, all alike, in different colors. All with straps. All with sensible heals. In that respect, we do not resemble each other. My shoes are very eclectic. Someone took her to buy shoes, and she actually bought them….I never have 
found out who…
My grandmother would also order me to Wilson’s Bargain Center for fabric. She 
made stuffed animals. She would question those poor women, who were pretty long in the tooth themselves, as if she conducted interrogations for the CIA. They would finally sell her a dollars worth of fabric, and would start talking about us before we even got all the way out the door.
Now, these things are easy next to the things I have laid up for my family. I am gonna make them rub me with creams, take me to parks and movies and malls, cut my increasingly ugly toenails, massage my wrinkled body, comb my thin, dry hair, listen to tales of my hippy days, until they become mentally exhausted.
I plan to demand ice cream, reggae music, and a wheelchair painted black and green, with lots of bling. I am gonna keep the family in an uproar..I am gonna turn them against each other by telling each one that they are the only one in the will…I am gonna cuss like a sailor and pretend I don’t know I’m doing anything wrong. I am gonna throw things, like the woman in Fried Green Tomatoes. I am gonna sneak out and drive, and get stopped repeatedly by cops who call them to come get me.
Yes, I have the best laid plans. I am gonna get revenge for all the dirty diapers. For causing me to smell like peanut butter and pee pee for years. Oh, and for having to watch H. R. Puffinstuff a million times. As for Mr. Rogers, I don’t like men with long necks, who sing silly songs, dress in cardigans and tell me in a whisper, that they want to be my neighbor. I watch ID tv. I know the things that happen in this world!
I am going to give them payback for growing up so fast, for my single parenthood, for the occasional breaking of my heart. I am going to make them pay for getting too “grown” to be kissed in public, and for finally deciding I couldn’t cut their hair anymore. For becoming independent of me.. For learning to drive, causing me to cry and pray every time they left… For becoming adults…For moving away, working, struggling, all those things handed to adults…For birthing my grandkids… 
For my having to watch them deal with the hardships of life!
Oh, yes, they should have stayed little, snuggly, precious, young, blonde, and they should have forevermore allowed me to kiss them in front of their school!! They should still run to me in tears when they scrape a knee…I should still be washing behind their dirty ears and making peanut butter sandwiches. They should have stayed in first grade forever!!!!
