OK. I’ve said it and it’s out. I think I’ve become one of “them.” The transformation was subtle, but quick. Last week, I looked back and saw that it had already happened. It was really quite painless. I actually suggest that you try it. The “it” is letting go. The result? I’m now a Midlife Soccer Mom. Quite an image, huh?
Here was the thing: a handful of years ago, as a 46-year-old who had recently been newly-crowned “mother,” and was clearly out of her element, I would suffer near panic-attacks when stepping onto a playground. Surrounded by a sea of much-younger mothers, feeling like Casper the Friendly Ghost, I could not reconcile that this new life brought invisibility and so much insecurity! The first day of my daughter’s kindergarten class was the most frightening thing I had experienced in years.
Fast-forward to today. I am like a seasoned PTO-type and volunteer at my childrens’ school at least once/week. A few weeks ago, I caught myself walking down the school corridor and suddenly realized that I am … just being me! Here I am, in school, and it feels like home.
It is an amazing realization that I no longer totally define myself by my age and my differential regarding other mothers, or length of years as a mother (I am stepmother to two children, now in their mid-20’s). I no longer compare wrinkles to wrinkles or gray hair to gray hair. I no longer (often) wish I’d become a mother sooner, was younger in age, or berate myself because I’m … different. I am more accepting that my life is my own, and I now own it.
So, at my son’s recent kindergarten graduation, when a fellow mother yelled to another about a third mother’s recent 40th birthday, I laughed. Little did they know that it was really me, and not my son, who had just graduated…