You guys, is being a middle-aged mom weird or is it just me?

I’m being completely serious. I’m somewhere between coming to terms with my constantly unhappy body (aka age) and my terrible sleep “patterns” (aka parenthood) and wishing I could just have one more moment to relish in the freedom that is (was) being child-free with a fairly disposable income and a list of places and people I needed to visit burning a hole in my back pocket.

And, god, do I remember that feeling, like a dry breeze on a sunny day carrying the sound of a terribly catchy pop song I can’t help but terribly dance to. I wonder what these days of middle-aged motherhood will feel like a decade and a half from now. Maybe like a lukewarm bath on a cool summer’s evening where I’m too tired to care that neither of those go well with each other?

Only time will tell.

But man. Being a middle-aged mom is weird.

Some days I feel like I’m moments from mom jeans, decaffeinated tea and a porch swing. Other days I feel like I’m just getting started and I want to strut around while Diana Ross’ I’m Coming Out blares mysteriously from the sky. In between those days, I spend half of my time reminding myself I’m 33 (not 96.5) and the other half of my time just asking myself what the fuck is happening. I don’t want to call this a mid-life crisis seeing as I am only 33 but I don’t want to call it a quarter life crisis either because, well, living to be 132 doesn’t sound that appealing to be honest.

But I can’t help but wonder if these feelings, if this weird phase between embracing motherhood and kicking my youthful endeavors and hobbies to the curb, is just me – or if it’s every mom at some point.

Is it because so many of my friends don’t have kids or just had kids? Is it because motherhood was more of something I fell into rather than something strived for, let alone didn’t plan for? Is it because I am actually nuts? All of these seem like plausible reasons for me to be in this predicament.

But, gosh, whatever the reason – being a middle-aged mom is weird.

Sometimes I want to jump on a plane with my kids and spend our weekends exploring new cities because even though they won’t remember it, I know those experiences will make lasting changes in their tiny minds. Other times I talk myself out of taking them outside of the house past 3pm because, well, it’s late – or it will be eventually – and my 90 year old self knows they won’t remember it anyway. I’m a 33 year old mother of two and I’m torn between adventure and domesticity.

Being a middle-aged mom is definitely weird, right?

I see families living in air streams, teaching their kids worldly lessons, learning through travel and play and adventure and I want to be that family. I see families rooted in their communities, playing strong roles within those communities pushing for advancement and healthy change and I want to be that family. I see families living simple lives inside of cozy DIY homes with expansive backyards, a hyper dog, and endless loads of dirt-stained jeans and I want to be that family. I want to be all of these families. I want to be home and I want to be out there – somewhere. Some days, I want to have this huge impact and I’m not doing enough, the next day I am at peace with the fact that the only impact I might have is on my children and on those days, I’m hopeful that that’s enough.

Is this being a middle-aged mom or is this just being a mom or is this just life or am I crazy – er, going crazy?

See?! Being a middle-aged mom is so weird.

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