I get an email every week or so from someone saying that because I’m an older mother, I’m probably a better mom (than those younger moms), that I am probably wiser (than those younger moms), that I probably appreciate my child more (than those younger moms), that I probably have more patience (than those younger moms).
To that I say this: HA!
For emphasis, I shall say it again: HA!
Oh that it were so. Let me assure you, it is so not so.
Sometimes y’all? The word Mom is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. It tickles my ears like no music ever has. I remember how I longed and yearned to be called Mom for so long and it makes my heart melt like a popsicle on a summer day.
But then other times, after a long day, Mom is the last word I want to hear.
And I certainly don’t want to hear it 15 times in a row in various inflections.
Mom? MOM! MAHaaaaam! Mommmmmm! Maaaaahummmm? MOE-UMM!! Mommy! MoMMee? Mom-ME!
I just want it to stop. For. The. Love. Of. Pete. Give it a rest kid.
In spite of my age, I am often not patient, not wise and not all that appreciative. I am however, almost always more tired (than those younger moms).
Sorry to disappoint all you misguided emailers, but that’s the sorry truth about my geriatric mothering.
What? You have days like that too? And you are not of advanced maternal age?
The truth is that no matter your age, motherhood is often draining, exasperating, annoying, unsatisfying and almost always smelly.
It is also true that there is nothing else you have ever done in your life that you would describe in those terms, yet quickly add, “But I love it! It is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me!”
And it’s true. You love it. It is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to you. And if you are like me, you’d like to do it all over again.
My hat is off to all you younger moms. You inspire me. Happy Mother’s Day.