Which one is yours?
I nod toward the squishy four-year-old, plumber-squatting to retrieve a palm branch. Such a little lady.
The quizzical look on the fresh, young mom’s face is impossible to miss. The unspoken question: Sooooo. Is she your grandchild?
*Sigh* Gosh, I really should get Botox. Maybe.
But my neck would betray me.
Scratch that. My cynicism would.
Yes. Yes. I assure this shiny, unlined Gen Z mom named Taylor or Mia or something trés cool. She’s my surprise ending. Emphasis on surprise. The last of four.
Advanced Maternal Age was the flattering label — the AARP of obstetrics. Pregnancy pushing 40 seemed risky at best. And now, fast forward four years post-partum where I find myself an old mom affecting new tricks at a pre-school playdate . . . like a fish on a bicycle.
That Monday, on grassy fields, flanked by marsh, alight with osprey, we erected fairy forts with palms and pinecones. Me! A 44-year-old mom.
Fairy forts?! I mean, I watch TV with subtitles now; I’m old. College visits are scheduled for my eldest. What small talk can I make with Tay-Tay? These glossy girls with no “elevens” were born after I graduated from *deep breath* undergrad. I have T-shirts older than them.
But, children are magic. Whether you are 64, 44, or 24, love for your child is the harmony, the shared music.
The cheery, young playdate leader (probably a “Madison”) bounced two babies in her arms while demonstrating how to paint with leaves. Gosh. I was exhausted just watching her.
Oh. And I certainly wanted to paint zero things. In fact, I wanted a latte and to get some filing done. What a good time I am!
Then, my pre-school playmate (aka daughter) turned her blueberry gaze and lopsided, dimpled smile on me like a laser. Slay me, she did. Right there. Fairy forts and painted leaves we created. Because as it turns out, you can teach an old mom new tricks. I’m proof.
