And you know what? I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Because I don’t have the luxury of assuming there will be a "later" for everything.
I say "I love you" like it’s punctuation. I take the video even when I’m embarrassed to be the oldest one at the recital. I sit in the floor even though my knees will hate me tomorrow. I say yes to the cookies. I say yes to the cuddles. I say no to the unnecessary stress. mature mom
So I parent with urgency .
At this age, the tired is just… physical. And I’ve survived physical exhaustion before. I’ve survived heartbreak, career collapses, funerals, and the slow realization that life doesn’t owe you a single thing. And you know what
I do the math in the dark. When my child graduates high school, I will be the age my own mother was when she became a grandmother. When they get married, I may be walking with a cane. I won't likely be the grandparent who chases them through the park for hours.
I look at younger moms at the playground and feel a flicker of something—not jealousy, exactly. More like… nostalgia for a future I won't have. I won't get 40 years of knowing my adult child. I might only get 20 or 30. I say "I love you" like it’s punctuation
When you become a mother later, you already know who you are. You have already fought your demons. You have already built a self that you (mostly) like. And now, you get to invite a child into that whole house, not a construction zone.