“What if the ‘Best Years of Your Life’ . . . Just Aren’t?” an article by Liz Sharp
It’s easy to hate the elderly woman in the grocery store. I think we’ve all met one. The thing is, it’s easy for her to say you’re experiencing the best years of your life, because she’s no longer there. She’s suffered through them, blocked out the truly horrific parts, and sees them now through the rose-colored lens of nostalgia. I would venture to say that 99.9% of these old women hated their circumstances when they were up to their knees in baby duties (and dooty) themselves.
Unless they came from the generation before the one the author of this article references – the one that was told she could have and do everything. Maybe they did just focus on motherhood. But I tend to think that pesky ‘id’ was stirring things up even before society got in on it. That’s a whole other animal in and of itself.
I’m on my third turn around the mommy merry-go-round – and, if God has pity on me, my last (yes, there’s an animal behind that, too). I am much more aware of the increasingly solid weight on my lap. I try to hold each grasp a bit longer, bury my head into the sweet-smelling hair of childhood. I’m learning the gratitude, but I’m still not the old lady in the grocery store. And I still think it’s perfectly acceptable to think she’s off her rocker without being off mine.