There comes a time in every mom’s life when she realizes she’s too old for something. Maybe it’s a trip to American Eagle with a niece that triggers the feeling…that feeling that maybe you are no longer the intended audience for something. For some people, this might bring on feelings of fear — fear of aging, fear of one’s own mortality, fear of being questioned on one’s knowledge of the music playing over the American Eagle speakers. (Or in my case, the Hot Topic speakers. What WAS that?!)
Anyway, for me, I’m going to be frank: recognizing when suddenly I’ve outgrown something isn’t something that brings me sadness. I feel practically giddy when I realize there’s a phase of something I no longer feel obligated to indulge or participate in. For example…
- A closet full of different outfits. Nothing brings me greater joy now than finding one article of basic clothing and stocking the heck up on it. The perfect button-down for work? I’ll take six so I don’t have to scour stores, children in tow, for something with the right fit again for a long, long time. A tank-top or v-neck that fits like a glove? I’ll take a pile. Literally, I wear the same black v-neck tee all year, not because I’m wearing literally the same shirt every day, but because I found something that worked, and I bought an army’s worth to keep me from having to stuff myself and the children into a fitting room together until my daughter is twelve and mortified at the prospect. Huzzah!
- Shoes without support. Cute ballet flats are for the birds. If I’m carrying around a baby in my back-carrier, you’d better believe I need shoes that actually do something besides look cute.
- Looking the other way when people do things that I think are dangerous or ill-advised. This one is obviously tricky, but I found that motherhood gave me a shot of bravery I didn’t have before. Before becoming a mom, for example, if I saw a person at the playground letting their dog in despite the clear signs that say NO DOGS ALLOWED (because it’s a park for kids, not dogs!) I’d have just shrugged and gone on my way. Not my playground to be bothered about, etc. Now that my kids are playing in it though, if someone decides to try and turn it into their dog park, I’ll say something. I’m too old not to care. You don’t know what kid is afraid of dogs, I don’t know to trust your dog around my kid, dogs are animals, and on and on. I’m too old to let it go these days
- I am too old to make plans and then have them dashed for no good reason, or to feel like I have to remind people of their plans with me. Look, I’m gonna be honest here: getting kids out of the door to be somewhere on time is a practiced effort, and the last thing I want to do is have to parent someone else about the scheduled event. I’m too old for that. Use a calendar, make a reminder in your phone, you do you, I’ll do me, let’s make it work together like adults.
- I am too old to want to spend a weekend devoted to touring breweries. Look, if that’s your thing, that’s awesome, but I’ll be honest: when a friend without kids was relating her story of the string of wineries and breweries she and her husband visited over a weekend, my eyes glazed over, and all I could think of was the number of loads of laundry and playground trips and hopscotch games and chalk drawings could all be accomplished in that amount of time, and I’m not saying laundry is more fun than beer, but I’m also not saying it isn’t sort of rewarding in its own way (maybe I’m weird though?). At any rate, I realized….it sounded sort of boring. And I’m not even saying hopscotch is all that fun. It really isn’t!
But maybe that’s the thing though, when it all comes down to it. It isn’t that fun things are no longer fun now that I’m a mom. Brewery trips are certainly still fun for someone. But that time in my life has more or less passed.
And I’m okay with that.
Bring on the hopscotch.
Aaaaand maybe a scotch, too. I’m not a total bore, I swear! 😉
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