It’s just a thinkin’ thing, and right now I’m in the thick of it.


The new decade brought special occasions with my oldest turning 40, the youngest 35 and I’ll wrap up the year by turning 60. Between enjoying the notion my children are aging well and realizing I’m no longer capable of doing the same things as just 10 years ago, I’ve convinced myself I’m old.


I don’t want to be old, but I’m definitely feeling the effects of having five of the seven grandchildren for overnight stays this weekend. The 4- and 2-year olds on Friday night and then the two 7-year-olds and 3-year-old on Saturday. By Sunday evening I was definitely feeling older than dirt, but by Monday morning I was missing my munchkins.


My body says, “Slow down, you’re almost 60,” but my mind still wants to play. It was nice outside so a good part of the weekend was spent playing with the puppy, running, skipping and wondering why I hadn’t thought to buy some Depends. Why on earth can I not jump or run without peeing my pants or passing gas? The grandkids think it’s hilarious, but I’m feeling very restrictive on what activities I can now handle without letting loose of body functions.


Sitting on the floor in the “criss cross applesauce” position isn’t going well. My legs cramp up and then I have to crawl over to a piece of furniture to get back up while the grandkids think it’s another game I’ve made up and try to climb onto my back. I can’t, and won’t, let them think I can’t handle playtime, so I just accept the fact I will pay for it later. I have the chiropractor on speed dial.


I taught the 7-year-old grandsons how to play poker. OK, probably not my best idea, but they loved learning how to play five-card stud. Everything was going well until the pup decided to take on a hand himself and chewed up the three of a kind which had just been laid down as a winner, and not by me. Needless to say the pup didn’t know what he was getting into with 7-year-old boys who have no problem tackling a 40-pound slobbering stealer whose teeth are no match for their determination to retrieve what they believe to be theirs.


I traded a full-size bed for bunk beds recently. Best decision ever until I couldn’t get the 4-year-old to sleep in the bottom bunk and had to get in the top bunk to get her to sleep. All was well until it was time to climb down without waking her up and breaking a bone. Easier said than done, although I did get down successfully only to find the pup had chewed off the arm of one doll and the nose of another.


It’s been said age is just mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it really doesn’t matter.


I will play until the time comes that they don’t want to play anymore and then I’ll insist we play, because it’s more fun to never act your age.


Sandy Turner lives in Independence. Email her at sandydownhome@hotmail.com.