This is not a post about fashion, it’s about becoming a mom and the things that happen to our lives because of it.
It’s been years since I haven’t used a mini backpack. The reason was purely practical: I’m so clumsy that when I bent over a regular purse would swing off my body and smash my toddler like a wrecking ball.
So I started wearing a bag on my back.
It’s been years since I’ve worn most of the jewelry I own. The reason was purely practical: I have such slow reflexes that my small children would grab that necklace before I could stop them. My engagement ring was a sharp hazard while dressing squirmy bodies.
So I started wearing just small hoop earrings and a plain band.
It’s been years since I’ve regularly talked on the phone. The reason was purely practical: every time I got on the phone (no matter how occupied my children seemed to be) they would start yelling at each other or for me.
So I started only texting and emailing.
As my youngest grows up and sprouts past his sixth birthday I feel simultaneously older and younger. It’s a strange pull of sensation and age. On the one hand I feel the wisdom of the years gather around me like a strength. On the other hand I feel my normal self unfold like a kid from the back of a coupe after a family road trip.
Where are we?
It took me two seasons of watching the new Doctor Who to realize I feel like the adventurous Doctor’s young 20-something companion but I look like her mother.
How did I get here?
But that’s the thing with age, isn’t it? The secret they can’t share with you until you are there: we are all our younger selves under all these kids and wrinkles. Necessity might change our purses or hide our jewelry in a drawer for a time. Responsibility might put that phone down for a while. But if you let time wind its curved journey we will eventually bend back into ourselves.
And there we are.