Old Wives’ Tale

As my regular readers (hi, Mom and Dad) know, my husband and I recently gave a talk about responsible parenting to a group of engaged couples. But what my parents...er...regular readers don’t know is that we just received a thank you note from the woman who asked us to do the talk in the first place – and the letter contained quotes from the critique sheets the engaged couples filled out following our presentation.

Surprisingly, the only negative comment was a comment we never made at all. To paraphrase, the audience member thought we said something about
“contraceptives killing grandma” – but I swear we never said anything close to this. In the first place, the word “contraceptives” makes us giggle when we’re nervous and talking in public. Secondly, I don’t even know what that original statement could possibly mean. And finally, no wonder we got good reviews if the other conference speakers used grannycide as a talking point. That’s just wrong.

Several fiancés or fiancées said our stories were entertaining and relevant. Great. One person wrote that we had helped prepare that couple for the challenges as well as the joys of parenthood. Nice. Another said our talk made him or her look forward to having kids someday. Excellent.

Then my husband and I read a very simple but powerful statement: “I wish they were my parents.” Our first reaction was one of humility and gratitude – we both thought it was so sweet that someone would actually say that. Then my husband and I looked at each other and the harsh reality set in.

“This person – who is mature enough to be getting married without breaking any laws – thinks we are old enough to be his or her parents.”

We didn’t even have to say it out loud. I knew from looking at my spouse and co-presenter that he was thinking exactly the same thing. We’re telepathic or photogenic or whatever that way. Suddenly, we felt less flattered and much, much older.

“I’ll bet this young man or woman was thinking I must have made medical history by giving birth in my post-menopausal years,” I quipped.

“Yeah,” my husband said, not to be outdone. “They think we’re going to be in our early hundreds by the time the girls graduate from high school.”

Oh well, I guess we’ll take what we can get. And on the upside, we look AWESOME for a couple in our mid- to late seventies.