May I propose an alternate parent timeline?

I went yesterday to “get my hair did.” My first gray hair appeared when I was in 8th grade (Thanks, Mom), I was coloring it by my freshman year in college, and I was completely gray by my 40th birthday (Thank you, Zachary and Cleo). For the majority of these years I have been a box color girl - time and money have always been at a premium. Lately, however, the box just hasn’t been working. (Please, no comments about me being of a certain age. I know.) The color is much more splotchy than I’d like, it isn’t lasting as long, and my last attempt was … well, let’s just say that my hair was ashamed to be seen with me out in public. So, I went yesterday and had it done professionally.

Not sure yet what I think of the color. I’m much too young for this much gray to be showing.

My hair is just one of the reasons why I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about getting older.

I was five days shy of turning 33 when our first child was born. In the blink of an eye, my focus and purpose in life changed dramatically. No longer were my days governed by my own needs and schedule. It became all about what did Zachary needed, and then two years later also what Cleo needed. My days were full of play, bodily functions (if you get what I’m saying!), coloring, Play-doh, outdoors, music, adventures, books, naps, zoo visits, etc., etc., etc. Every year we celebrated milestones, went sledding when there was enough snow, and cheered Zachary through his baseball seasons.

We looked forward to summer when we could visit family and, when the kids got old enough, attend Merom Church Camp. Zachary and Cleo went on adventures in the woods, and they both sang and played music all day long (Thank you Veggie Tales and Sandra Boynton!). Every year I bought the next level of homeschool materials, while both kids joined band, loved red pandas, jazz, Legos, and Calvin and Hobbes. I have thoroughly enjoyed the front row seat of watching our kiddos grow into amazing young humans. I have tried really hard to soak in every day, even when chocolate and coffee were the only things getting me through.

Then one day, Zachary turned 18 and became a freshman at college. Cleo was a junior in high school, and I was… holy cow. What do you mean I wasn’t still 33? When did that happen?! I knew our children were getting older - we celebrated each year with a big birthday party - but that was them, not me!

I had been so busy raising children that I had lost myself. I went from being a young adult with young children to be being middle-aged empty nester. And I wasn’t prepared for this.

Do not think that I begrudge my children for all that I gave up for them. I do not blame them for my lack of self-awareness. Eric and I made the choices we did, in what we believed was in the best interest of our children. I would not trade staying home and homeschooling for anything in the world. I fully understand that it was a privilege which we were able to make work.

But here I am, 55 years old, wondering how I got here and where I go next. I look back over my life and realize I haven’t had a real career to speak of, my retirement savings is pennies compared to what it could be, and I am closer to death than I am my high school years. I get frustrated that my body can’t do, and will never again do, the things it did 20 years ago. Some of my students have grandparents who are waaaay too close to my age. (that one hurts)

Mid-life crisis? Acceptance of reality? Whatever you want to call it, I’m struggling.

Which is why I would like to make a proposal to God - For the first 18 years of our first child’s life, parents don’t age. Our children get older, but we stay the age we are. Then, when they are grown, the biological process restarts for us. We can do all of the things we did before we had children, without the added limitations age brings. Want to still mountain bike like you did before children? You can! Want to run that half-marathon? Start training! Want to backpack through Europe? Hostels await! Want to go start a career that you haven’t had time to commit to? The future lies ahead - go for it!

I know this is silly. But, the grief that lies behind it is not. My biggest struggle is that we don’t get a second chance at our days. There are many things we can go back and do over, but years that have passed are not one of them. We can’t go back and re-live our 20s. We can’t go back and make different decisions that would’ve led us down a different, perhaps we think better, path. Time continues to move forward, and this is one of the hardest truths we have to come to accept.

I am the age I am whether I want to be or not. Along with this is a slow acceptance of the fact that I can’t go back and do all of those things I wish I had done but didn’t because I was too busy, too scared, or too lazy. However, I can do something about the days which lie ahead. One step at a time, one decision at a time, one purpose at a time. I’m not dead yet, and there are hopefully a lot of years before I am. I can’t go back and reclaim all of those things left undone. But, I can continue to discover who I am now and what I want that to look like and mean. Maybe my hair is gray, but you know what? It was gray back then also.

Peace,
Denise