No, I didn’t say OLD did I?
There I go again, using that nasty word. It’s a dirty word in my book and I deny ever being aforementioned adjective.
Many of you know Liz from A belle, A bean and a Chicago dogÂ I enjoy her writing and envy her common sense… she’s a sensible one, that Liz. (And in case you don’t know this about me: I don’t have a sensible bone in my body…I’m a mass of silly, neurotic, spastic neoplasm.)
So Liz wrote a post about the highlights of becoming a mother at 27, the challenges of being entrenched in diapers when her friends were still living it up. But the line that kicked me right in the teeth: “Â I will be 48 years old when my youngest is an adult and off to college.”
Oh… why ouch, you ask? Um, hint: check out the title of this post!
So being theÂ mass of silly, neurotic, spastic neoplasm that I am, I didn’t seriously seek out a partner until my late 20′s. (All that dating in college and grad school was for recreational purposes only.) I met Adonis at 29. We figured out pretty quickly we liked each other well enough to have a family together but it wasn’t until I was 35 that Maddy came into our lives. It was another 3 years before the Dude showed up.
Interestingly enough, while I feel physically old (gah, there I go again) after a long night of Dude feedings and his fighting sleep, I don’t feel mentally, um, MATURE. I don’t have that “I got this” mental confidence of a woman who has FORTY (STOP IT!) Â breathing down her neck. For a gal who knows her job inside and out, knows how to make a fine martini and find her way around a big city, parenting a 4 year old is WAY OUT OF MY LEAGUE!
My youngest sister is 9 years younger than me. I remember her infancy and toddlerhood like it happened yesterday (bitter at being uprooted as the youngest/only daughter? maybe). Those memories of her and how my mom was a mother to her formed my parenting tactics. But somehow the preschooler years…completely lost on me. Adolescence has a funny way of turning the focus back on ourselves, doesnt it?
As a stark contrast to my late blooming, my living it up in my 20′s, my younger sister got married and started having children at 24. She’ll be 49 when her last child leaves for college. And she has this incredible confidence in her ability to mother her children. Is it because it’s all her adult life has been focused on? Or is it some innate talent I failed to be born with?
Was this a post with answers? Nope.
And if you tell anyone I used the “O” word to describe myself, I’ll cut ya.
What about you? How has your timeline for family making effected your view of parenthood?