How To Be 35
I had my babies young. One month after I turned a sweet and legal 21, I eloped in Vegas and discovered that I was pregnant. Or maybe it was the other way around. Needless to say, my family was thrilled. My point is that I was far from being a grown up when I began raising my own daughters.
Having children early in life has a plethora of perks. In your early twenties, you are active and hip; you don't mind the late nights as much; and you are in current possession of resilient skin tone. Sayings like, "in my day" would never roll off your tongue because, apart from the baby attached to your breast, you are still in your day. Besides looking the part, being a young mom means you are usually at the bottom of the maternal bell curve at the preschool picnic. That fact does not always fall into the "friend magnet" category but I enjoyed it just the same.
Recently, though, I've noticed that I am no longer that budding title holder. Somewhere during the last five years, when I wasn't looking, I became an actual, card-carrying grown up. I'll admit, I've seen those young gals toting their babies around at middle school functions but I had just about convinced myself that they were nannies or the older sibling. They couldn't be mothers. Could they?
Ugh. I guess I need to wake up and smell the truth. I'm almost *gasp* middle-aged.
But hang on! I thought I would have my way paved by now. I assumed I would have a fulfilling career and an active social life. I'd enjoy things like preparing my taxes and refinishing furniture. I would have a closet full of age-appropriate but yet smart fashions to wear to my daughter's ballet recital and sashaying out with the poodles. What happened to all of my plans?
Today, as I was fetching the kids from school in my Hollister baby tee, torn jeans and flip-flops, a powerful thought occurred to me: I don't think I know how to be a 35 year old.
What's more frightening than my adolescent wardrobe is the battle waging inside my head. Clearly, I should be too old for candy binges and bubble gum pop music but it's what I like. I don't want to end up as one of those women who hangs on to her youth, or worse - her hairstyle, because she gets trapped and loses the ability to evolve and mature gracefully.
How does one make the conversion from a hip, happening mom to a mother that acts her age? Hopefully, someone somewhere offers a help line or better yet a reality makeover television show for this stage in life because I'm lost. If they don't maybe I could start the ball rolling by suggesting a title.
You can find Kimberly in Petroville where she lives and writes daily.
An original DC Metro Moms post
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