Yesterday, after dropping hubby’s car in for service we decided to head to the beach for the first time with Pipsqueak. It was an awesomely beautiful day and we all had a little fun in the not-so-hot-for-once sun. We wrapped up around 10 and still had some time to kill before hubby’s car was done so instead of heading home just to come back, we decided to grab a snack.
We chose to explore the downtown area of one of our neighboring towns which we hadn’t had time to explore yet. After coffee and muffins at an awesome little coffee shop, we walked the main street to kill some more time. We passed an Urban Outfitters and decided to wander in since it’s been years since we shopped there.
And while perusing the store, it hit me: I’m getting old. I saw the college-aged girls working there in their short shorts and low-cut tops and here I was pushing my baby buggy with my other three kids running around with hubby. I felt so out of place.
It’s become a recurring trend in my life, this feeling of not being young anymore. It’s not that I’m that old (I’ll only be 32 next month), it’s more that I’m not so young anymore either. I’m a mommy with four kids and whether it’s the fact that I just had my last baby or the fact that I have a 7-year-old, I don’t really feel a part of my peer group any more.
I’ve always been ahead of the curve. Hubby and I got married long before most of our friends. We had multiple children before anyone else we knew in our age bracket even had one. But that is the life we chose and I certainly don’t regret it. Plus I’ve always fit in better with people a bit older than me so it’s always just worked for us.
When we were in Dublin, I was by far one of the youngest in my group of friends. As many of the other mommies I knew were turning 40, I was still securely in my twenties. But it never bothered me.
But now I see my age.
I see it when I watch Dancing with the Stars and realize I’m older than Andy Grammer and only a few years younger than Nick Carter (seriously, I’m only a few years younger than one of the Backstreet Boys!)
I see it when I watch reality shows like The Real World and I’m older than ALL the members when I vividly remember being so much younger than them.
I see it when I’m out shopping and the stores that I used to love just don’t fit me or my needs anymore (or welcome my children).
I see it when I jump on the scale and my weight fluctuates wildly and no amount of healthy eating seems to matter.
I feel it when I’m in the dance studio and my body just can’t do what it used to but more so with the aches and pains that now accompany dancing.
I feel it when I’m exhausted by 2 pm and just don’t have the patience to deal with my kids any longer.
I feel it when I’m sitting too long or in an awkward position and my body begins to seize up.
And I saw it again last night when we went to the sandwich shop for their Monday night two-for-one deal with all the retired couples and a woman older than my mom walked by with the same handbag.
I’m no longer “growing up” and I’ve found myself in limbo, stuck somewhere between young and carefree and just plain old.
