Old Mommy on the Block

I didn't have my first kid until I was 36-and-a-half, which was just fine by me. I had plenty of time to sow my wild oats in NYC before getting married, having a baby, and moving to the suburbs. While I occasionally miss my old, crazy life, I wouldn't still want to have that life. I've moved on, and that's a good (and healthy) thing.

One odd thing about having kids later in life is that many of my mommy friends--ladies with kids the same age as my own--are much younger than me. Like a decade younger. Manhattan mommies tend to skew older--they delay starting families to further their careers--but it appears that the ones around here had their first child closer to the national average of around 25 years old. At age 25, I was going to Lollapalooza.

When we first moved here a few years ago, it was shocking. I didn't know anyone, I had no friends, and unlike my husband, I wasn't going in to the city every day and getting a nice dose of culture and sophistication. There were awkward moments while getting to know people: We'd be talking about the silly bands we liked as teens, I'd mention being obsessed with Duran Duran, and the response would be something like, "Oh, I loved them, too. I used to sing along to 'Hungry Like the Wolf' when I was five." Conversation OVER.

Things are better now. Pretty much all my friends are younger than me, but mostly by only a few years. I don't think about it too often, now that our conversations tend to be about our current lives rather than our pasts.

Every now and then, however, something happens to make me feel REALLY FREAKIN' OLD. There's this mom I know...we're not friends but we're friendly. I see her around a lot--library story times, the town pool--and she's sweet. Our kids are similar ages so we end up chatting. I never thought about how old she might be.

I saw her at the pool the other day and we got talking about sunblock, how we are super-vigilant about covering up our kids but often neglect ourselves. I told her that I use a daily moisturizer with SPF 15, so even if I forget the rest of me, at least my face has some protection. She laughed and said, "Oh, that's a good idea! I should do that too, or before I know it, I'll look like I'm 40!"

Oh, the idea of looking 40 to her was just ridiculous! Preposterous! Unheard of! Something to joke about, the worst thing she could imagine! I just laughed. I mean, what was I gonna do, say "Um, I'm 41, actually." That would've been uncomfortable and weird for both of us. So instead, I laughed as if I  could relate (Forty?! Eeek, blah, ptooey!), and took solace in the fact that she certainly wouldn't have said that if she thought I could be that old.

But I'm watching her.