Too Old For This

I'm too old for this, is now a constant refrain of mine. 

I feel like I'm too old for a lot of things. Too old to be up at night with a toddler, too old for drama, too old to make certain mistakes. 

It's not just sighting a few gray hairs that has sent me over the edge. OK, maybe it has. (I shouldn't even complain, because half of my gene pool goes gray at 21, so this was a long time coming.) 

Nearly every single time I finish having a conversation with a friend, I kick myself for days afterward wondering, "Why did I SAY that?" 

Aren't I too old for this? Aren't I too old to keep shoving my foot in my mouth? 

Every time I despair that maybe taking a vow of silence would be less stressful than being allowed to yammer all day. 

Luckily, my friend doesn't seem to hold it against me and I try to bribe her forgiveness with baked goods. 

But I feel so weary, making the same boo boos that I committed so long ago. Because aren't I too old to keep my tongue running amok? 

Recently, I went to a client's office and had to sift through some documents, so I sat down cross-legged on the floor. An older woman at a desk nearby gaped (at least I think she did, we're all masked). "Only someone young could sit like that," she said, patting her "bad" hip. 

I was taken aback. Me? Young? 

I feebly complained about my back, which has finally become somewhat functional two years post Ben. She wasn't buying it. 

I guess age, like everything else, is relative. I wonder if there is hope, in my current sleep-deprived state of existence, to make the most of "youth" and get my mouth to behave.