Look Who’s Sprouting Gray Hairs

I’m getting old. How do I know? How did it suddenly dawn on me so clearly that I felt the need to blog about it? It isn’t the gray hairs. My husband found two, Katie found three, Aleigha found one. Since they say when you pull it out two grow in its place I am bound to have at least sixteen new gray hairs on top of the others we hadn’t found yet. I know that it’s supposedly a silly myth, but I will go off topic and say it is true that hair grows back thicker and darker when you shave. I have yet to find a person who agrees with the experts and says that one is a myth.

Anyhow, back on topic, I am getting old. I’ve come to this conclusion for a few reasons; the main reason being that I HATE the radio. Everything sounds like garbage to me. My younger cousin never fails to remind me that I’m just old and that’s why I like nothing. Yes maybe so. I also don’t laugh at the things I once would have found hilarious. Another reason, I LOVE to stay in. Fourth of July came and went and I was perfectly content watching NCIS all day with my husband. I’m sure if we had the kids we would have done something, but it was nice to do “nothing”. Not long ago I hated to do nothing. My husband is the king of the home-bodies. He likes nothing more than staying in. It drove me up the wall! I would plead to get out and do things. Not so much anymore. I love being technically lazy, reserving all of our energy to interact with our two big kids.

Speaking of kids, don’t they age you! As a parent I like to think I’m cool and also a MILF (woot woot). On the other side of the spectrum, I became a mom at 20 so I’ve always battled the balance of being a young adult and being a grown up mom. When I was 20 I felt like I was 25. I had to worry about health insurance for my child, doctor appointments, and over all wellness. After that I had to afford to feed and clothe her. I was jealous of my friends who had nice purses, shoes, and clothes and went on wild vacations. If I had money, who was I to spend it that way when my daughter needed things. This was my path and I wouldn’t trade it, but it aged my maturity very quickly.

Now that I’m 26, I feel 31-ish. Who knows for sure, but I imagine it’s pretty close to being 30. I have a kindergartener and first grader now. There are new needs and new wants at this stage, as well as bigger injuries. When I attend a school function or a birthday party the mom’s with kids my own kids’ ages are in their 30’s. I feel like I fit in among them but I wonder if they look at me and try to guess how old I must have been when I had my daughter. I hope they think I look REALLY young and guess 16 or 17 based on how young I look to them.

This post has no greater purpose. I just feel old on the inside, and thankfully look like a child on the outside. Can I really complain about how old I feel? My grandma birthed 16 children and lived to be 84 years old. She never stopped wearing her big costume jewelry or going to the casinos to gamble either. I love and miss you Grandma. I hope I “still got it” in my 80’s the way you did.

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