Ok, let's just get this out of the way. I want to be young. Or at least, younger. There are lots of very nice moms at my son's preschool, and we get invited to playdates. It's fun for Jonathan, and usually for me.
It's just that these moms are young, most younger than my oldest son. They are stylish and hip. They don't have wrinkles. I, on the other hand, do. I have wrinkles and lines. I have broken veins. I have a few (ok, more than a few) extra pounds. My knees creak. I look like somebody's grandmother!
Oh, wait!! I am somebody's grandmother! I am an adorable 8 year old girl's grandmother. A handsome and Lego-loving 6 year old boy calls me Grandma. So you see, I can't be young again. I wouldn't have these two treasures if I were young. And apparently, I wouldn't have my 4 year old, either, because I spent most of my younger adult years yearning, and trying, for more babies. He came along just when he was supposed to.
So maybe I could settle for looking younger. I am sure there are ways to accomplish that. The truth? I don't have much time, energy or money left over for me. I feel like I have accomplished something if I moisturize before I go to bed. Cosmetic procedures aren't an option. Neither are pricey potions. I do keep gray hair at bay with regular salon trips, and I do wear make-up. But I look my age. Not movie-star 54, but real-life 54. And most days, I'm okay with that. Just not on play date days!
In the meantime, this is on my bathroom wall to remind me I'm ok just as I am. Some days it even works!