I saw this list on Huffington Post Today: The 10 Worst and Best Things about Being an Old Mom. Some of it made me laugh because I am 46 and have a 4 and a 3 year old. But some of it is too politically correct when having toddlers as an old Mom is not nearly so CLEAN. And some of it doesn’t quite fit my life as I also have an 18,20, and 21 year old. Two separate families. 22 years of children or pregnancy. 15 more to go. That makes me feel tired. I should go lay down.
So here’s my own version of this list:
10 Worst Things:
- A couple of people have asked me if the older boy is my grandchild. First I snicker and say, “No, and he has a younger brother too.” And sometimes “I call them a medical malfunction” or “birth control doesn’t always work” or “I’ll be one of those 65 year olds who have a surprise pregnancy.” Most often though I snort through my nose and say “The girls won’t be having babies because they were RIGHT THERE (and gesture toward my vagina) when the boys were born.” I am not sure if the laughter is because it’s funny or uncomfortable to talk about my vagina.
- Small font. OMG, yes. I can’t read anything without looking under my glasses and finding the perfect distance from my face. There is also small print in video games and on cereal boxes and the boys want to know what EVERYTHING says. Or where it was made. I gave up and now I just make shit up.
- I have to take care of myself because the moms at the preschool ARE MY OLDER CHILDREN’S FRIENDS. And when the grandparents of the preschool kids are doing the pick up I fit right in. I also pride myself on throwing the little one over my shoulder while dragging the other out of a snowbank and dragging him to the minivan. Then I take ALEVE when I get home and find my heating pad. But for a good minute there I looked amazingly athletic. I will be doing my retirement party with the little one’s high school graduation party.
- I went to my doctor last week because my hair is falling out and I feel like shit. Perimenopause and two babies has thrown me into an unbalanced hormone hell. I also can’t do all nighters with sick babies. There are days when I have more patience, but never as much energy and so it evens out. I can’t imagine how I stayed home with 3 little ones and now I make excuses to go to work to sleep on my office couch.
- I haven’t been able to sit and read a book during the day in 21 years.
- I haven’t been able to poop without having a conversation with someone in 21 years.
- I never did get to travel and party. Now I’ll be 62, broke, broken, and want to nap.
- I have no retirement.
- I get up early with babies who want me and stay up late with teenagers/young adults who want me.
- I do not want to be a grandmother. I’m tired.
Ten Best Things:
- I have lots of things to whine about. And I love to whine and then laugh, which makes people think I’m cheerful but it’s more of a laugh because you don’t want to cry kind of thing.
- I have an excuse to not exercise.
- I like to send the girls out with their brothers so people will think they got pregnant in their teens. For some reason that is funny to me.
- I have all the kid books memorized so I don’t actually have to read Green Eggs and Ham. I can recite it from memory.
- My boys will be unique because I find the things they do hysterical, like playing with their penises, licking the table, or mispronouncing words. I see no reason to fix any of this. My kids can paint their nails or dye their hair blue and I just don’t care.
- They don’t make me younger. They make me older. Everything pops and snaps and sags and is gray. But I have lost the ability to care. I wear yoga pants and plaid shirts to pick them up. There is a sense of freedom in that.
- Sympathy from other people.
- Gifts of alcohol from some of the sympathetic people.
- People don’t ask me to volunteer for things.
- The only way it keeps me young is that I know the names of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and I get to play with cool race tracks (which I didn’t get to do as a child) until I need help getting up from the floor.