The infant boy cashier at Walmart just asked me if my 7-month old son is my grandchild.
"Is this your grandbaby?"
"Um...no, my BABY."
"Boy or girl?"
(I thought the outfit might give it away - an army green camo print.)
"Time sure does fly by fast, doesn't it?"
"Yes, yes it does." (apparently faster than I thought)
I had a horrid flashback to the time an elderly security guard at the mall asked me if my sister (who is only 19 months younger than me) was my daughter. And this happened before I had kids.
And then, this morning, my husband told me that I dress like a nun.
"You dress like a nun, now. You don't show off your body anymore."
"What am I going to show off? My deflated boobs or my stretched out stomach? I had two kids in a little over 2 years. Give me a break."
"You could show off your legs?"
"Okay. The next time I have the opportunity to wear a mini skirt and go to a Bon Jovi concert, I will. But, until then, I have to be a little more practical."
Men. I don't see him wearing a mini skirt while he bends over to heft up loads of my laundry or while he chases our 2 year old around the backyard.
So, according to the cashier and my husband, I look old enough to play the Mother Abbess in the Sound of Music.
Looks like I'd better start learning the words to "Climb Every Mountain." And soon. Does anyone have the sheet music I can borrow?