A Mommy Story

When I was a teen, growing up in a small Ohio town that I considered (back then) to be backwards, small-minded, and too confining for me, I dreamed of getting out of there and living a grand life. I had no idea what I wanted to do, but whatever it was, it was going to be exciting, it was going to open my world to new ideas and cultures, and I would never look back. Life would be one new experience after another.

It was also during that time in my life that I never planned to grow old. (I also was in my “Kids? NEVER!” phase of life.) No, I didn’t mean I was going to find some fountain of youth – I actually thought that I would die before I ever had the chance to crack a wrinkle on my face. Growing old seemed uninteresting, and losing my vitality and my ability to keep up with the world was my greatest fear. Instead, going out in a blaze of glory while I was still young was far more appealing.

Let’s not forget that, as a teen, 30 seemed old.

After I graduated high school, I didn’t have quite the exciting life I dreamed up in my room at night. But I did do some cool things in my late teens and early 20’s. I went to a university where I met people who were vastly different than those from my small hometown, and I did open my mind to new thoughts and ideas. I dyed my hair every shade of red imaginable. I spent a summer in England, almost refusing to go back home at the end.

I drove really, really fast. I conquered my fear of heights and did a bungee cord free-fall. I became a modern-day pseudo-hippie and joined the cast of a renaissance festival for nearly 10 years. I still had the motto that life was short and I wasn’t planning on seeing old age.

And then I found a man I loved, and we married and had children.

The teen me never expected that part.

Now I’m in my thirties, with two young daughters, and I can’t imagine that life I dreamed up when I was younger. I’m more cautious now. I still drive fast, but only a little over the speed limit, and less so when the kids are in the car. I care about things like nutrition and I see my doctor regularly. I stopped dying my hair when I was pregnant and haven’t really gone back since. Surprisingly, I think I like the somewhat-routine life I’ve shaped in Columbus, Ohio, even if it is a little boring at times.

But I’m still struggling with the idea of aging. Part of the problem is I still feel like a teen at times. I’m still (mostly) in touch with pop culture: I listen to pop music, I love The Vampire Diaries, and I think I’m a pretty good texter. When someone looks to me as a voice of experience, I’m always surprised because I feel like I’m still the inexperienced one in all things. It amazes me to realize that teens now are closer to Cordy in age than they are to me. High school was half a lifetime ago. Wow. It doesn’t seem that long. I can’t really be in my thirties, can I?

As for dying young – are you kidding me? I have a family who needs me! I have two little girls to raise! At this point I’m trying to live to at least 100, if not 150!

This morning I opened a box from the mail and found a sample of anti-aging face cream. As I examined my face in the mirror, I knew I’d passed the imaginary “old” line that I drew in the sands of time as a teen. I have small wrinkles around my eyes now, probably from excessive laughing and never wearing my sunglasses. My skin is beginning to sag at my jawline, excess from my years of never turning down a pizza party or going to get ice cream with friends. My tweezers can no longer fight back the white hairs sprouting from my temples. (OK, those I blame entirely on my children.) And let’s not forget those damn dark hairs I have to pluck from my chin and neck – where did those even COME FROM?

Truth is, I am the person anti-aging creams are aimed at. Not my grandmother, or my mom – ME. And it means I’m growing old. Those who know me in person know I’m not exactly vain – I’m about as low-maintenance as they come. I rarely wear make-up and I don’t spend a lot of time on my appearance. However, I now understand why these creams and potions are so popular. I don’t want to wrinkle, I don’t want to slow down, but most of all, I don’t want to acknowledge in any way that I’m creeping ever closer to old age and the end of my days. (Even if that time is a LONG, LONG, LONG way away.)

While I dislike getting older, the thought of not being here at all scares me far more. At this point in my life, I’ll do whatever it takes to live longer and be healthy enough to be here for my family. Forget exciting and adventurous – watching my children grow and learn is far more fulfilling. I’ll take reading books to my kids over backpacking in the Scottish highlands (nearly) any day now. I expect to be there for them through all of the challenges life throws their way. My family has given me an entirely new direction in my life.

I’m glad the life plans I drew up as a teen never materialized. I like being a mom and I appreciate my normal, often-not-exciting life. And while I may not like the wrinkles and what they remind me of, there will always be anti-wrinkle cream for that, right?

Edited to add: Now that I’ve written about how I always feel like the inexperienced one, David Wescott tries to prove me wrong honors me by naming me as one of his female role models. Considering the amazing women I’m listed with, I can only say thank you and I hope I’ll continue to prove that I deserve to be among that group.