But I’ve been doing it a lot lately.  Slouching, that is.  At the dinner table, while I’m driving, and especially while sitting at this keyboard day after day in a pathetic attempt to validate my stay-at-home-momness.

Can I just tell you that I used to have perfect posture?  No really.  I hate to brag, but it’s true.  Maybe it was from taking piano lessons when I was young, but I used to sit up straight as a rod at my desk in school, all day long, while my peers slouched and slept beside me.  (I’d tell you that I was also wearing a big pink bow on my head and getting straight As, but that might weaken my credibility.)  I cannot vouch for my grades or obedience as an adolescent, but dang it if I didn’t sit up straight.  Even my teachers commented on it.  For reals.

So why do I catch myself slouching so much lately?  Is it my aging spine, weakening stomach muscles, the inevitable demise of a body reaching middle age?  All good ideas, but actually, I’m pretty sure I slouch because I’m lazy.  Sitting up straight is harder.  On some subconscious level, I-think-that-I-think that all those years of rockin’ posture then have earned me the right to slump a little in my chair now.   This slightly erroneous platform wouldn’t be so dire if I didn’t find it seeping into so many other facets of my life.  Somewhere over the last decade, my high-minded ideals seem to have given way to a lesser settling of sorts.  I’m not sure if this is good or bad, so I thought I’d ask my three faithfuls to help me determine whether I need a course correction in my newfound attitudes.  I’ll break each topic into two categories:  what I thought in my twenties and what I think in my thirties.  Please review, juxtapose, and summarize your position on each in the comment box below.  (Oh, alright, fine.  Just “like” it on facebook, ya big slouch.  I never have any fun.)  Here we go:

20s:  It’ s terribly important!  It’s fascinating.  It’s about who we are, what we believe in, and where we’re going. I need to know what’s happening  every day.
30s:  It’s terribly important and not important at all.  But it is interesting.  Gets fun when an election rolls around, kind of like playoff time.  Headlines are what I have time for most days.

20s:  There is no excuse for letting yourself go.
30s:   There are plenty of excuses for letting yourself go, and good ones at that.  I consider the people I truly admire.  Their fitness level has zilch to do with it.

Decorating my home
20s:  My home is a reflection of my taste, creativity, and artistic eye.
30s:  My home is a reflection of my pocketbook. Get over it. Nobody else has any money, either.

Cleaning my house
20s:  My tidy house indicates my work ethic and homemaking skills.
30s:  My tidy house indicates that my kids have been spending too much time at Grandma’s and I’ve not been spending nearly enough time writing.

20s:  I love to cook for my family! I try new recipes and ingredients all the time. We need to have healthy, interesting family dinners nearly every night.
30s:  I love to cook for my family–when I’m in the mood. The rest of the time, cereal or spaghetti are good.  The kids are growing fine and nobody cares if there’s a side dish.  Really.  Not even a little bit.

How my kids are going to turn out
20s:  I expect my kids get to get straight As, become musically accomplished, intellectually curious and spiritually mature.
30s:  I hope my kids turn out nice, and marry someone nice.  Especially the latter; it’s a always crapshoot, no matter what a parent tries to do.  Don’t tell me you haven’t seen it.

Whether or not I’m happy.
20s:  I need to ask myself, every day, if I’m really happy. I need to make sure I’m happy.  It’s not only normal to be happy, it’s my duty.  Otherwise, I’m lazy/ungrateful/un-spiritual/you name it.
30s:  I don’t have time to check my Happiness Pulse every day, and I’m not all that interested when I do.  Productivity, compassion, and a little fun are what I try to work into my life.  (Read:  a lot of fun, with a little productivity and compassion thrown in for cover.  Who am I kidding?)

So tell me:  Am I getting wiser with age, or are my moral convictions merely weakening like the muscles in my ribcage?  And are any of you experiencing this inverted outlook on life as well?  I gotta tell ya, I’m liking the inverted position a heckuva lot better.  Call it lowering my standards or just getting real; either way, I’m breathing a whole lot easier these days.  And that’s quite an accomplishment, since I’m usually slouching.


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