I can only hope that when I’m just a few days shy of my 62nd birthday that I will be as hilarious, fun, and willing to try new things as my Momma.
Last week, I had the brilliant idea to pull No-Longer-Easy-E’s rollerblades out of the back of the garage and to strap them onto the feet of my 61 year old mother. I won’t lie; she put up a bit of resistance at first, but quickly realized that a broken hip would secure her a much longer stay in sunny Florida; as she was slated to leave on a jet plane back to the blistery north the following day.
As I climbed past the random assortment of cob web covered sporting goods we have sitting in our garage, I nearly knocked over momma’s beach bicycle which I have been meaning to put training wheels on. My pause to stabilize the bike should have provided enough time to think back to her describing the not one, but two separate wrecks she has had on it….and in turn to realize her lack of stability on a bicycle might just transfer to rollerblades. Nay. I continued my progression to the back of our cluttered garage and within ten minutes I was attempting haphazardly to pull her out of her beach chair and get her up on 8 wheels.
I don't know that she ever actually rollerbladed that day, it was more like a guided tour of my driveway on wheels; pushing and sometimes pulling interrupted by noises like "whoooooo!", intermittent cursing, and flailing arms reminiscent of a someone who doesn't know how to swim getting tossed in the deep end.
In the end there was only one close call. After which I was yelled at for pinching the back of her arm when deep down we both know she should have been thanking me for saving her from a broken hip and fractured skull. But hey, who am I to complain, the next day she was off to the airport with both femurs moving just how they should be in perfectly sound hips.