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Confessions of a 67 Year Old Daughter to Her 88 Year Old Mother

Confessions of a 67 Year Old Daughter to Her 88 Year Old Mother

By Iris Ruth Pastor

Dear Mom,

You’d think by this time in my life, I would stop having secrets from you. Ha.

You’d think by this time in my life – having reached the empowered age of 67 – that  I’d stop withholding information from you. Ha

Though the reason has changed, the practice has not.

I used to hide things from YOU to protect ME; now I hide things from YOU to protect YOU.

Here are a few things I never told you:

I threw away every package of carrots sticks you ever packed in my lunch. Well, not every. A few I gleefully traded away for Hostess Twinkies.

On sleepovers, I was always the last one to bed, the earliest to rise and the fastest guzzler of Coke in the group.

Every morning after closing the front door, I rolled up my skirt to make it shorter before boarding the bus to junior high school

In high school, I left the house every morning with a freshly scrubbed face and hair in a girlish pony tail. Immediately upon entering my school’s front hall, I headed for the girl’s bathroom, where I put on globs of mascara, blue eye shadow and coral peach blush. And teased my hair into a bouffant, highly lacquered mess.

After I got married and had the kids, I withheld even more.

I never told you I allowed my sons to hang glide, mountain climb, play tackle football, and back pack through Asia.

I never told you I let them pack their own lunches, drive on the freeway at age 16 and that I turned my back on more than a few of their teenage antics.

I never told you I cringed at their college GPA’s. Screamed at them for binge drinking. Worried myself sick over their spring break travels – all the while telling you tall tales of their well-being.

So mom, one last confession before I board the plane to Europe for my first transatlantic flight: I know I assured you that after the Charlie Hebdro murder and kosher supermarket slaughter in Paris that I had changed my travel plans from France to Italy. But I didn’t. Don’t be mad.

Truth be told: two months ago I was in a near miss head-on collision just five blocks from my house. I never told you.

Truth be told, I went to have dinner with a friend at a nearby upscale mall just minutes after a massive robbery had taken place there. Mass panic ensued among the shoppers, resulting in injuries. I never told you.

Truth be told, you can’t keep me safe anywhere.

YOU can’t protect ME, just like I can’t protect YOU – from the caprices of nature, the ravages of aging, the random accidents, the necessary losses of loved ones.

Chances are great that I’ll come back unscathed and safe.

And if I don’t?

Well, one more confession:  I love you and you are the best mom ever.

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Iris Ruth Pastor is an aging baby boomer, wife, mother and grandma. She is currently preparing for her book launch in the fall of Tales of a Bulimic Babe - Simple Wisdom to Live the Life You Crave which can be now ordered on her website. Being a successful author, Iris also writes a column entitled “Incidentally, Iris,”, and is a well known contributor and recognized “must read” blogger for the Huffington Post. Along with her writing, Iris also spends time delivering motivational speeches on all topics related to mid life and baby boomers. Iris is available to speak on a variety of topics, focusing on self-help, self-improvement and self-empowerment and is currently delivering a talk on The Secret to Living Happily Ever After.