Monday's are busy days here at our house. The three youngest grandchildren get dropped off about 7:20 and I have them until a little after 4. They are busy days with dozens of trips to the potty (3-year-old-twins), and diaper changes (the 20-month-old), building with blocks, reading books, eating, naps, and all that goes with taking care of little ones.
By the time 6:00 rolls around I find myself thinking about how early I can go to bed without being awake at 5am Tuesday morning.
Today is my husband's 64th birthday and all day, as I ran around after the kids, the words to the old Beatles song kept running through my head (will you still need me, will you still feed me, etc). All I could think about was how I could remember singing that song with my friends when it came out all those many years ago, and thinking about myself as a feeble, elderly women of 64 years.
Somehow I never imagined me running around after three toddlers, potty training them, comforting them, tucking them in to bed, making them toast and jam, and picking them up when they fall.
Sixty-four must be different than it used to be. Or we were just pretty clueless. Or maybe a little of both...