A few weeks ago, I took Kate to Little Gym for the first time, and when I came home to report on the day, Ben asked me if there were any other moms I thought I could be friends with. (Since I'm a little thin on parent friends, my husband likes to play matchmaker. Like a friendship Yenta). I told him that there were several nice women, but they all seemed a little older than me, like they were in a different stage in life. Ben looked at me with sympathy. Huh, weird. I gasped. "You don't think those OLDER women actually were MY AGE do you?! AM I THAT OLD?!?!" I ran to the mirror to asses. Fine lines, check. A little sun damage here and there, check. A little more weight around the ol' middle, check. Well SHIT. Look at that chick in the mirror. When did I become HER??
When you look in the mirror every day, you don't see it. I knew I was getting older, but it was such a slow progression I didn't really notice the change. Until something made me stop and look, and, well, whoa. I AM those "older" women.
I remember a few years ago I asked my mom when I would feel like an adult. In all her wisdom, she shared with me that I'll never really feel like I have it all together, like I think an adult SHOULD feel. Rather, some day I'll look in the mirror and realize I've gotten older, and I just have to ACT like I've got it all figured out.
Well, Hell. Better start writing about something intelligent now and then. Wouldn't want you guys to catch on that this old lady doesn't know SHIT about life... still.