In three months I'll be 32. THIRTY-TWO!!! There are days, like today, where I wonder where the time went. It has gone by way too quickly. The cruel twist is that I look like I'm 21 and feel like I'm 25. Yet, the birth certificate doesn't lie. I'm in my thirties.
Tonight I was sitting here thinking about my daughter going off to school next year and quite a bit of panic set in. Then I started visualizing her in first grade, then second, and third.....my mind kept going to where I envisioned myself going to pick her up from 8th grade and I'll be 40! That seems so far away but really it's not. It seems like just yesterday I was 20. Aside from the husband, job, and a couple of kids I feel pretty much the same. So, I started thinking about what I'll look like (will I have any gray hair?), what I'd be wearing (can you still get away with gym shorts at 40?), what would my kids be like, what would my husband look like (who at that point would be 43). That led to 50, then 60. I can't say that these thoughts were met with excitement.
I just wish time would slow the heck down. I love my children at this age. I'd keep them home with me forever if I could. I love having all this time to spend with them, when the biggest influence on them is me. I know once they are older and in school that won't always be the case. Their teachers will spend eight hours a day with them, their coaches maybe two or three. Where does that leave me? A few hours for dinner and before bed. Sorry, but that's not enough.
I loved school. All of it. I loved grade school (except part of first grade and most of seventh), high school, and college. In fact I'd do any and all of it over again. I hope my children have that same wonderful experience and I would never want to deprive them of that or do anything to take away from that. But the selfish, protective mama cub wants to curl up with her babies and stop the hands of time from moving forward. Because I know that with each year that they age, I'll age too and the next thing I know my kids will be married with children of their own and I'll be a grandma.
Can grandma's still wear gym shorts?
The truth is that as long as I look young, feel young, and act young I still think I am young. The reality is that I am not that young anymore. It's strange to wake up one day and realize that you aren't considered a young adult anymore, that you have jumped an age bracket. I'm sure I've matured and grown in ways that I don't realize but to me I feel like someone much younger than the date on my driver's license states.
Anyone else have these feelings?