Letting the Days Go By (Same As It Ever Was)

Do you remember the movie Big? Or maybe 13 Going on 30? 17 Again? Any of these sugar-coated yummy morsels ringing a bell? The premise is you get covered in glitter or nabbed by a spooky mechanical fortune teller and POOF, you’ve switched places in time.

So there I was, in my office (otherwise known as the playground) sitting and talking to a Mama friend about this and that, how we do it, why we do it, at what point the eight-year-old boys our quirky five-year-olds were maniacally chasing would actually turn around and punch one of them. Stuff like that.

And my gorgeous babysitter showed up, like a vision rising over the horizon, all legs and the glistening long blonde hair that only occurs naturally when you’re 21 years old. I passed her the keys to my condemned minivan with the tape measure and BFF tags in exchange for her braided leather cord and the keys to her little Nissan sedan or whatever. I should have asked first because I literally tried three cars in the parking lot, climbing into one that had apparently been left unlocked, only to find it wasn’t hers, or mine, if you know what I mean.

This is not my car
May 2014

Because when I finally got the key into the right starter, tapped the dangling owl on the rearview mirror and inhaled the vanilla scent of her boho air fresheners, free of car seats and muddy kids’ boots and a toilet in the trunk, well, something changed in me. Call it déjà vu all over again or wishful thinking, but honestly, for a moment I was transported. I was 21 again and beautiful.

I was leaving a babysitting job for which I’d actually gotten paid, and was roaring off into the back streets totally unencumbered. The local indie station was playing a tad too loudly and the windows were already down, because… well, why not leave your windows down? What’s the worst thing that could happen? I swear, for a moment my wrinkles went away. I was like a Bruce Springsteen song, the happy kind.

It only lasted for about ten seconds, but I swear it was real. I was 21 again, and not the crappy kind of 21 that constantly wondered what my ex-boyfriend was doing or if I’d ever get a job or why all my college roommates had chosen to work near each other but not near me. I was the 21 that took the corners too fast and let her hair blow all over the place.

I’m not saying this is a thing I crave. Most days I’m perfectly content to be dishevelled Mom-on-the-go. If I’m feeling particularly old I work some funky raincoat and cool sunglasses and pretend I’m Mrs. Robinson, but with none of the skanky inappropriate stuff.

You know, I get by.

I’m just saying that if you were driving down the back roads in the next town over yesterday, and you happened to see an adorable 21-year-old blonde rocking out to indie music in her non-descript but practical car (sans car toilet), and you thought, “Hey, that girl looks a lot like Jen.”

Well, maybe, just maybe, it was me.

Baby not on board
May 2014

(P.S. I did consider the ramifications of this spectacular momentary exchange. Somewhere on a wood chip covered playground my gorgeous babysitter rounded up a posse of stinking children who didn’t listen when she called to them and who complained all the way to the car. Then she carted them off to a minivan with a toilet in the back. And for a moment, she likely thought, “Is this my life? How do I work this? Where is that large automobile? Did I somehow suddenly become the owner of this diaper bag on wheels and the mother of these snot-covered kids?”

And my answer to her?

Yes. Yes, you did.)

And you may ask yourself

What is that beautiful house?

And you may ask yourself

Where does that highway go to?

And you may ask yourself

Am I right?… Am I wrong?

And you may ask yourself

My God!… What have I done?!…

 

Letting the days go by

Let the water hold me down

Letting the days go by

Water flowing underground

Into the blue again

After the money’s gone

Once in a lifetime

Water flowing underground

 

Same as it ever was…

Same as it ever was…

~Talking Heads

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