Last you heard from me, I was diving into the whole “get out of your daily rut, get off your fat ass, and do something” mode.

Well…I did.

And I’ve been so busy, I need a break.

Last weekend, I took the kids canoeing down the St. Croix River. It was an exceptional day, the weather which lately has been 95 and sauna-ish, was a cool 75, and the skies were cloudless.

Mind you…I have not stepped foot, or rather planted my rear end in a canoe since I was 11 and at 4-H camp in the Wisconsin Dells, with my best friend Pam. As a matter of fact, I was so inept at the concept of steering-rowing, our trip down the Wisconsin River ended with Pam and I arriving back at base camp well after dark… tired, blistered, and hungry. We became the laughing-stock of our fellow preteen campers, who had managed to make it back unscathed, three hours earlier.

Time for redemption…

After some research, I settled on a canoe outfit called Taylor Falls Canoe and Kayaking. They offered two choices, a 7 mile, or a 17 mile excursion. Not wanting to over do it…I picked option number one.

 So, I reserved two canoes, one for myself and my 13-year-old daughter, Megan. The other for my 17-year-old daughter Chelsea, 11-year-old son Josh, and Chelsea’s friend Sarah.

Cost of two canoe’s…85 bucks.

Children being part of their mother’s mid-life crisis adventures…priceless.

The St. Croix river, a tributary of the Mississippi, runs about 164 miles. Segments of it are part of the eight original rivers to fall under protection of the National Wild and Scenic River Act of 1964. Because of this, there is very little presence of human influence as you make your way past the many bluffs, and wooded terrain.

I did the Mom thing…put everything in zip locks baggies, and lectured the kids nonstop on the hour-long drive, about how tipping Mom’s canoe over would surely result in 4 kids being stranded on the river.

Hey…I was a little nervous.

Armed with a couple of coolers of snacks and drinks, we waited in line for a canoe.  I studied the groups ahead of us, and watched them paddle away from shore…and thought it didn’t look that hard at all.

Effortless…

That is…until it was mine and Megan’s turn to get in and paddle off into the proverbial sunset. First off…just to let you know, there is a front and back…ok, forward and aft…and the difference between the two is important.

Poor Megan…she obviously drew the short end of the stick when it came to the canoe pairings.

 Just to let you know…Megan and I had strategized beforehand…and the plan was for her to take the rear driver’s seat position. I, on the other hand, got confused with the layout of the canoe, and grabbed the seat closest to the water thinking that was the front.

 Apparently, we picked the only canoe they hadn’t yet turned around like the others…because everyone else was moving forward off the landing.

Some kid gave us a shove off, and there we were….floating in the river…backwards. And while everyone else was pushing past us, Megan and I moved closer to the landing with each stroke of the paddle.

Effortless…my ass…

At the very last minute…just when it seemed we were doomed to never get off shore…Megan and I managed to turn our craft around.

And around….

And around…

Yes…in case you were wondering…we mastered the art of canoe spinning.

The other canoes gave us wide berth, we only had one close call…where mid spin it looked like we were going to clip another canoe. I was too embarrassed to make eye contact with them, but I did catch the WTF look on the man’s face as he paddled like hell to get away from us.

As far as the other kids. They were having their own issues. Chelsea attempted to put her multi-tasking skills to the test, by rowing and texting on her phone at the same time. It didn’t work so well and somehow they managed to switch positions and put Josh in the back, Sarah in front and Chelsea in the middle.

Never one to walk away from a challenge, I did eventually figure out how to get the canoe to go in a straight line. I was so good at it, we ended up zigzagging from shore to shore.

From behind us, I could hear a man coaching his canoe partner, calling out instructions on how to paddle correctly. I could see as they got closer the woman he was talking to was not having any problems at all…obviously he was trying to give us some tips without being too conspicuous about it.

I thanked him under my breath…

By this time, Megan had had enough…and begged me to find someplace we could stop and trade places. She spotted a cluster of rocks along shore.

I can only imagine how funny we looked…I heard Chelsea, Josh and Sarah laughing hysterically at the sight of me crawling up the canoe, clutching a life vest, while Megan made her way to the driver’s seat.

However, after the switch, something magical happened. We scooted along the river like pro’s. Finally able to relax now, we took in the beautiful scenery. Bald Eagles flew above us, wings spread out, soaring majestically over the tree tops.

Butterflies skimmed across the water, turtles soaked up the sun on fallen branches, amid  the bright purple, yellow, and white wild flowers which dotted the shoreline.

Normally there are beaches along the river where you can stop and explore, however, the river was two feet above average as a result of the pounding rainfall we have had over the past month or so.

Megan and I didn’t care…we were content just drifting along enjoying the views…

Trail mix in hand for me, and beef jerky for Megan, we languished along…chatting about how in the old days fur traders used this river, and how one could almost visualize indians darting in and out of the trees, or standing on top of the bluffs.

I noticed the canoes in front of us stuck to the river’s edge as they trekked downstream. But because it was windy, we stayed in the center of the river…rather then the shoreline where we were constantly having to battle being driven into the rocks. I commented to Megan about how smart we were to have figured that out. 

Ahead of us, I could see Chelsea, Josh and Sarah off to the side. Bodies turned, facing us, and they were yelling something…but we were too far away to make out any words.

Actually, we figured they were taunting us for being so slow, so we chose to ignore them…instead we continued to drift, paddles out of the water, while we munched on our snacks, drank Gatorade, while patting each other on the back.

It was only after all three of them started to scream and point frantically, that I considered paying them any attention.

Behind me Megan asked “What are they saying? Why are they pointing at us?”

Before I could answer, Sarah’s voice, higher pitched then the others, carried up river…

“LOOK BEHIND YOU!!!”

“Look behind?” I repeated as I turned around….followed immediately by a “OH SHIT!”

Bearing down on our canoe was one of those double-decker old-time steamer boats, used for scenic tours.

At that moment I knew exactly why no one else rode out the current via the middle of the river.

Megan and I’s reaction is best explained by the other kids, who watched it unfold from the safety of their canoe downstream.

From what they said, I immediately turned back around panic-stricken… tossed my bag of trail mix on the floor of the canoe, picked up my paddle, put it in the river, realized I had it upside down, pulled it out, turned it around…and paddled like hell.

Megan on the other hand…stuck her stick of jerky in her mouth…cooly grabbed her paddle, and navigated us to safety….

No sweat…

Surprisingly, the other kids canoe didn’t flip…considering they were laughing so hard it caused the vessel to wabble back and forth.

It’s moments like these that turn into family urban legends…brought up every year around the holiday table…until ultimately the story grows to epic proportions and before you know it, 20 years from now that boat behind us becomes a barge and the river becomes the Erie Canal.

On the way home, the kids informed me I have been upgraded from “ok” mom….to “cool” mom…and next time they want to see me trade in my canoe for a kayak.

You never know…

I do know more than they do…

There is a book out there “The Secret Life of the Grown-Up Brain” by New York Times deputy science editor Barabara Strauch. In her book she says that not only do we keep our brain cells in middle-age…we grow new ones.

Strauch bases her argument on loads of compelling research data from studies and tests done every seven years since 1956, on 6,000 participants.

“What we have learned from studying the time we call middle-age is that the changes that take place as we age give us the best brains of our lives” Strauch writes on her website.

Apparently, the studies show that people in their 40′s, 50′s, and 60′s scored higher on vocabulary, spatial orientation, problem solving and verbal memory test…then their younger counterpart.

However…we are slower…the old folks scored lower than the youngsters on speed of how fast they could push the button, and how quickly they could calculate the answer to a problem.

Translated…it may take me a while to get there…but at the end of the day…

I will be right…

Middle-age is looking better and better…

BM

I began in Stillwater Minnesota…a quant little town on the St. Croix River. I enjoy going to Stillwater, always have. Antique shops, cafes, art galleries line the streets…everything a middle-age yuppy like myself could ever want.

This time…however, I stopped in Stillwater with a specific purpose in mind…to finally see the fortune-teller whose shop is on main street.

Ok… you don’t need to say it…I know what you are thinking…Fortune tellers are nothing but a bunch of fakes. I couldn’t agree with you more…but it was my 20 bucks to waste. Just to let you know, I’m not completely nuts…I went prepared. Yep…I had my camera in hand (to see if she would mistake me for a tourist) and I slipped my previously used, but now not necessary wedding ring on my left finger (as a test to find out if her crystal ball would tell her I was in fact single).

I even went as far as picking out a different birthday then my own…so she couldn’t pull some astrology crap on me…Dammit…I was going to make her earn her money.

Obviously, she’s not that good….because she had no idea I was coming…

Notice the big ole closed sign in the window…

After a quick cheeseburger at a place called Leo’s Burgers and Malts…I crossed the river into Wisconsin and headed up hwy 35 north in search of a town called St. Croix Falls. I had seen the name on the map, and figured it would be fun to see some falls.

After driving around looking for a sign reading “Falls here” I finally pulled over at a park on the rivers edge…to read a big historical billboard…Then, I learned the town’s dirty little secret…

Apparently, the name St. Croix Falls is a bit of a misnomer…with the building of the dam for a hydroelectric plant…the falls of St. Croix were no more. With that said…it is still a great town, rich in history, a main street full of shops…and beautiful views of the St. Croix River.

I even managed to strike a pose before I left….

I hit the highway going south, until I wandered into another river town…Osceola. it was here I noticed a sign with an arrow, pointing me in the direction of a Railroad Museum. Since my Father and Grandfather both worked for the railroad their whole lives, I couldn’t pass up the chance to view a piece of something they loved so much.

To my surprise…it was more than just a museum…what I found was a restored depot with scenic tours via old trains of the St. Croix river Valley. As luck, or fate, would have it…I was in time for the last run of the day.

All in all, I have to admit…for as big of a sceptic about the whole  “changing up your routine” thing…I am a believer now.  I had gotten so comfortable with status quo…I had no idea what I was missing.

And it’s fun…I like the concept of not doing the same thing twice, of exploring what my enviroment has to offer. My days off used to be consumed with a long list of chores and things I had to do, and not things I wanted to do.

Score for the pseudo internet shrinks….

BM

I got a phone call the other day from a friend of mine, we’ll call him Bill. He told me he had decided to retire and move south…to warmer pastures…and a new chapter in his life.

The news took me a little by surprise…it seems like not too long ago, our conversations about Bill’s retirement, were more along the lines of how far it was away. But that’s what time does to you….the less you have of it…the faster it goes.

During our conversation it didn’t take me long to realize Bill was a changed man. He sounded optimistic, excited…and, well, his tone was one of youthful exuberance.

He had a lot to be happy about…Through out his life, Bill had done all the right things. He worked hard, had tenure with his employer, therefore he was able to walk away with a great retirement package…spent wisely, invested smart…and lived his whole life with one thought in mind….

Financial security after he stopped working…

As Bill was telling me all about his post retirement plans…a motorcyle trip cross-country, world travel, spending his days golfing…basking in a warmer climate…with no financial worries…I couldn’t help but be happy for him…and frankly, yes, I was envious.

I can’t even being to count the number of times over the twenty years I have known Bill, that he suggested how I needed to put money away for my older years. I never heeded his advice…

I had viewed Bill’s life of living on the frugal side, as being cheap. He had an executive position, made a great salary, and his constant worry about money bugged the hell out of me.

As for me…well I just figured when the time came, things would have a way of working themselves out.

Now, at the ripe age of 45…those tomorrow’s which seemed so far away…are creeping up… soon to be parked on my doorstep. I’m left wondering if my live in the moment attitude will cost me dearly later in life.

If ever I needed an aha moment…it was that phone call from Bill…because it got me to thinking about someone else I know, who is the same age as him…but in a totally different situation.

My ex-mother-in-law…we’ll call her Carol…

Carol, just like Bill, has worked hard her entire life. However, what little she had…Carol gave freely to others. Years of  assisting family members, gifts long forgotten, money for this and that…has determined her reality now.

At an age where most people are slowing down, looking forward to enjoying life…Carol continues to work 55 hours a week. Not because she loves what she does…but out of necessity and fear.

A few years ago, when Carol was living with me, helping to care for my kids after my divorce…she voiced her concerns about her lack of financial standing, and how it would affect her golden years. She didn’t own a house, and what possessions she did have, fit into her 12×12 bedroom she lived in at the end of the hall.

I remember telling her not to worry…she still had plenty of time left…and yes, that things would all work out. Not very good advice…

Of course, I was in my 30′s then…without a financial care in the world…living beyound my means…with no plan in place for my later years. Why would I?  After all…things have a way of working out.

Carol has since moved out…she rents a small apartment…but her circumstances remain the same…and she works…with no end in sight.

Some people could look at my situation and tell me I have no reason to feel sorry for myself. I have a job, own a home, and have five wonderful children…and I still have time.

As I write this…I would agree in this day and age, especially in these trying economic times…I am very fortunate. However, I can’t help but compare Bill and Carol, without realizing if things don’t change…Carol’s reality is my future.

All of this leaves me with the burning question…what do I do?

I have no idea…

BM

When I read the article written by some shrink about how to spice up a relatively mundane boring life, by doing things outside a persons normal routine…frankly, I thought it was a crock of shit.

Yea, I know…the premise isn’t really earth shattering. It’s really just common sense, which to me, most therapy is. Isn’t it?

Oh…I had no doubt the author of the article was right. I merely had doubts as to whether or not “changing things up” was on the list of things I needed to do, in order to work through my mid-life issues.

To me…set routines are fundamental in maintaining order in a crazy world. As a matter of fact, I read a recent article stating babies with structure and routines built into their days….are happier, and develop at a quicker rate.

So there….take that Mr. Shrink….

Nonetheless, I tried it anyway…I made the leap into the unknown, diverting from my normal weekend routine…of doing, well, nothing…got off my fat ass…and “changed it up” so to speak.

What did I do?

I went fishing…

Yep, pole…hook…slimy worm fishing…

I found a fishing hole 5 minutes from my house…a place I had no idea even existed..

Did I catch anything?

Well…if you don’t count the 2 soda cans…or the back of my shirt when I casted for the first time….

Then, no I didn’t catch a damn thing.

A wise man once told me, success is not measured by results…but rather by what you learn from the journey.

Obviously, he was not a fisherman.

BM

It started as a random conversation with one of my sales reps…

My sales rep….we’ll call him Brian…began telling me about how he is feeling like there must be more to life.

Well…Duh….no I didn’t actually say it out loud (or did I?) But I did, however, bite my tongue to prevent me from stating the obvious…

Welcome to the real world sonny….

Brian is what I consider a young guy….late twenties, early thirties….and something about me yesterday, must have brought out some fucked up pseudo son/mother relationship in Brian, because instead of talking about how much product to order, I found myself on the receiving end of hearing about his epiphany regarding life.

Why me? Who knows….I’m certainly not that old…at least not old enough to be his mother…but hey….with my undone frizzy hair, no makeup, dark circles under my eyes, and my overall frumpy appearance today….I must have given out that maternal vibe…in a Roseanne Conner kinda way.

Since I am playing my own version of the “meaning of life” scavenger hunt, I found his internal struggle….more than a little interesting, and well, you know….rather amusing.

(Side note…no one I work with knows about any blogs I write…heck..they’d probably wet their pants from laughing so hard if anyone were to even suggest I write anything more than the daily list I give them of things that need to get done.)

Brian explained it all started when he began thinking about getting a new motorcycle. He told me he currently has one…called a crotch rocket (why it’s called that…I have no idea…but it was pretty funny to watch his face when he realized he said “crotch” to me, his surrogate mother du jour. He actually blushed. Of course for me….he had me at “crotch”…hey, I’m not dead ya know)

His dilemma was this…he doesn’t even have time to enjoy his current bike….but if he got a new one, a road bike, he and his wife would make the time to do more. Brian has found himself in a place where we all go to from time to time….the one where life is passing you by…and you find yourself doing more “tasks” in your down time, rather than the things you love.

To him…there must be more to life.  Where does all the lost time go?….he asked.

I wish I had something profound to tell him….other than what came to mind…that the past 25 years for me have been filled with tomorrow’s, instead of todays…or I could have pointed out to him, he is young and luckily he is realizing all of this now now rather than later, the value of actually living in the moment….before he hits middle age.

I might have even told him to get the new bike….and use it as a catalyst to change his priorities…as long as he was willing to commit to actually making the time to enjoy it with his wife.

Instead my words of wisdom were…

“Crotch rocket? Why do they call it a crotch rocket?”

BM

Structure built into your life to keep the ball rollin….no thinking involved…just going through the motions because it is comfortable.

If you are single, this routine may very well be the thing keeping you solo. The meer thought of disrupting your daily traditions with the addition of another person in your simple yet oh so complicated life, is what keeps you lying in bed at night….awake.

It took you years to get it down pat…and…It’s hard to change…..especially at your age.

If you are married….then your spouse is more than likely part of your daily ritual. One of you makes the coffee, while the other lets the dog out. Two individuals on well-worn paths, but bound together like a well choreographed dance.

Same shit, same time…..day in, day out.

That’s me…creature of habit behind door number 1. My routine, and the anxiety I feel regarding change, is also something which causes me to mouth the words “old geezer” every time I look in the mirror, at precisely 5:09 every friggin morning.

This rut… I’ve come to realize… is also a huge contributing factor in time passing so quickly. It’s easy to loss track of years passing by….when every day looks and feels the same.

Does this mean I am going to turn my life upside down and change everything I do?

Hell no….

But in my self-help internet wanderings I stumbled across an article written by some shrink, where he suggested to take one day a week and change things up a bit.  He cautioned to not fall into the trap of changing one step in your routine for another. But rather, to do something different every time.

Ok…so I’ve given this some thought…and I have to confess…I don’t think this is as easy as it sounds. As far as I can tell, here are the ground rules…

-Whatever “out of the norm” activity you chose….has to be something you are not planning on doing long term….otherwise by definition, if you do it more than once or twice….it might be considered a habit.

-God forbid, you decide to shake things up on the same day of the week, every week…because then…well, your screwed….because once again…it will become “structured” aka “routine”…..

In reality..to make this work…really work…one would have to embrace the notion of being open to doing random things as you stumble upon them, instead of sticking to doing what you always do, when you always did it.

I believe the word is…..spontineity.

Shit…thinking about it makes me feel…well…a little anxious. How am I going to get anything done?

I can do this…..(funny….it took me 15 minutes of staring at the computer screen before I could actually write….I can do this)

Having arrived at a comprimise….I have decided to try this little exercise suggested in the article written by the good doctor…just to see where it leads me.

On Saturdays (yes, I know to making it the same day every week breaks the rules, cut me some slack here)….I will add some variety to my middle-aged life, and do something different each week.

You know….maybe even some underwater basket weaving…then again, how do you hold the basket AND pinch your nose at the same time?

I will try and be happy about change….

BM

No stupid…..that’s not me….

It’s my dog Cole….

He was just as excited about my special day as I was.

We share the same philosophy about getting older…

“Fuck it”

Some friends of mine took me out on the town for my big day. I got all gussied up…ready for a night of shooting pool, dancing….and any other trouble that might come my way.

We had a great time…

Met a guy who said he planned on spanking me once for every year I was old, apparently he liked to spank….a lot….because I am fourty-five….he might have gotten away with it…except the look on my face stopped him mid spank on his first attempt.

Then he ran for hills, as if his life depended on it…..and it did….

Three beers, two shots, and five hours later….I was partied out. I managed to last until the wee hours of the night…..10pm.

When did I get so fucking old?

BM

A spot is just a spot…

Until you dare to step back and look at the bigger picture…

Take your “Instant Vacation”….

BM

Wow…

I read an article about mid-life, how this is the stage of my life I can shed who I thought I was….for who I wanna be.

Ok… sounding a little stupid here…but I’m kinda excited about this part. Maybe this is not going to be as crappy as I thought. I guess the next step is to figure out exactly who the hell I used to be….so I don’t end up “that person” again. I mean…think about it…wouldn’t it suck to live through my “crisis” only to end up exactly who I was before?

The cool added benefit of going through a mid-life change is…you now have a great excuse…and since I realize I have been livin the condition for the past couple years, I can blame mid-life not only for my current behaviour, but also for shit I did up to this point. Brilliant.

Like how I spent my life’s savings on a baby grand piano, and I don’t even play well…mid-life crisis

And the time I spent serial dating…and serial…well, you know….mid-life crisis.

Or the time I decided it would be fun to get piercings…in all the wrong places…mid life crisis (by the way…yes it hurts…save yourself the trouble…take my word for it)

How about the time I went through the dating much much younger men phase….mid-life crisis.

See what I mean?

What I’m thinkin, there are only three stages in life you will be able to use age as an excuse.

Before the age of 25….blame it on your youth. Everyone understands…because they have all been there. They all know doing stupid shit is all part of growing up. And the young people know it too….because you hear it all the time…about how they are only young once…or how they are finding the right path…and so on. But once a person hits 25…They’d better have it all figured out.. after that, any dumb ass decision they make becomes a character flaw.

But it aint over….you become a model citizen from the age of 25-40, responsible…living the dream…then bam!….you skid into the 40′s and for the next ten or so years, you are back in that special place. The one where you “find yourself”…shedding those chains which bind you..

For most people, even if they have never experienced a mid-life crisis…they get it. Your family and friends…well, frankly they’ve all been waiting for it to happen. It gives them something to talk about….and for some…the opportunity to enjoy your adventure from the sidelines, living vicariously through you…

Then you slide into your 50′s….wiser, smarter…you are past the trials and tribulations, having “been there…done that”. Back to the responsible person who knows exactly who they are and what direction to go. Gone are any excuses for your behaviour at this point. Now you have to toe the line…after all, you are a shining example of how to survive and conquer mid-life.

If you are lucky enough to reach this point without losing your fucking mind…you realize if there was anything left on your woulda, coulda, shoulda list….your screwed…at least until you reach the third and final point in your life where once again you can make use of the great excuse.

Old age…

You’ve somehow managed to get there. I’m no expert…but I’m thinkin around the age of 75 is when it happens. Now you can say it like it is….damn the opinions of others…you’ve earned the right. Now is the time to take inventory of anything left you always wanted to do. You’re still young….you’ve got plenty of time.

Hell….even a man in his 70′s can aspire to be president.

BM