My mother had me at the age of 21, I don't know if she was ready to be a parent, but that's just what people did then. My mother had her last child at the same age that I had my first and only daughter.
Some days I wake up and I feel like a grown up: I have a responsible job where I help people feel healthy, I am in charge of my life and the social secretary for my daughter, I do volunteer work and generally, I am seen as a competent adult. Other days I look at myself in the mirror and think, "Who is that? How did I get here?"
Raphaela has three birthday parties this week, and that of course started the massive communication among parents for car pooling. I had agreed to take Raphaela and one of her close friends, and along the way I picked up two other girls from the class. My car was full of gorgeous chattering first graders, one of whom belonged to me.
One of the girls in the car told me that when I send pizza for Raphaela's lunch, she and other kids in the class get jealous. Another girl in the car said that I was a "Cool Mom" and that Raphaela was lucky to have me.
Seriously, when did I become that person trusted by other parents to drive their children? When did I renew my expertise in hair accessories and sticker trading and Barbie? When did my nerdy interests become cool for the next generation?
I once asked a friend if I "looked like a mother," and she said that I look like the right age and station in life to be a parent, without looking "old." My friend also said that I seem like the kind of person who should have had more than one.
And yet some days, I feel like I need someone else to be the adult, or at the very least, I need a personal assistant.
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