By Cate Drew
I’m on the high side of 40, with three dogs, two teens and one husband, living in a small New England town in a house that’s never quiet. Ever. It’s not that I have a really colorful life – I just tend to write colorfully about it. And there’s plenty of material: marriage to the Man of a Thousand Bad Ideas,.. my mom, who moved Dad’s coffin closer to the street six months after he died so she could visit his grave as a kind of drive-up window…our dog posse…our kids…lots of siblings and in-laws, former co-workers, old boyfriends — they’re all here. Toss in 14 years of Catholic school and you’ve got a lot of guilt, too. Which reminds me: forget “high side of 40.” I’m 51, damnit.
Written By Cate Drew
See Cate’s First Blog Below
The Older Better
By Cate Drew
Like many women, I have more than one life. Lots of jobs, duties, obligations. So here I stand, one foot firmly planted on a banana peel, the other in dog poop, straddling a dual existence life. One side is motherhood, with its highs and lows and constant maneuvering for neutral ground (yes, I have teens), and the other is my life as a hormone-challenged woman. Heck, even the dogs have it over me in the hormone department…and two of them are fixed.
I’ve been married to a wonderful man with blue eyes, broad shoulders and a bum ticker for 20 years. I have a daughter who wants to be a movie director a la Tim Burton (God help me) and a son who never wants to leave home (God help him). The kids are just starting their teens, which means their friends’ moms are freaking out about turning 40, and I actually own a Calvin Klein flannel shirt that’s almost as old as these moms are – and yes, it still fits and is still age appropriate, which is pretty much the only positive thing you can say about flannel.
And did I mention I’m post-menopausal? Note the post. Found out just a few months ago I can get off the pill. Forever. Nothing happening below the waist (in terms of gynecology, at least – more on that later) and I don’t even have a waist anymore anyway. It disappeared literally overnight, come to think of it. No need to worry whether to belt that oversize shirt — I wouldn’t know where to put the belt. Waist not, belt not.
I’ve also made the monumental decision most women make (if they still have their marbles) and that’s about skin. As in, keeping it covered up as much as possible. Last summer, I decided that no one who isn’t related to me should be subjected to the sight of my bare legs, or my arms, for that matter. Not that I have awful legs (they used to be stupendous), but my skin is a bit wrinkled and freckled now, and my varicose veins are creating a road map that looks a lot like Boston’s main artery -– no pun intended.
I still get some action -– don’t get me wrong. My husband is rather hot, and gets hot, a lot. But these days, he’s tossing off his glasses AND his clothes for the big moment.
So where does that leave me? I’m a woman with curly hair, dry skin and a good sense of humor (I heard Carol Burnett say that in a movie once, but I added the hair part). I got all three from my dad, who also gave me a never-say-die attitude. And the best thing going for me is my dual-existence life. My husband, my kids, and, yes, the three dogs, worship the dog-poop covered ground I walk on.
The older I get, the better it gets. Who’d have thunk it?
Stay tuned for more of Cate’s adventures each week.