I feel like I am finding myself further down the path of adulthood than I anticipated at this point in my life. How am I 35? I realize that newer moms look up to me, and I want to say to them, wait, what? I’m not the role model here. How did all this time pass? I still feel so new and green at this parenting thing. It just gets hard in different ways, not easier.
I never meant to be a mom, and yet, it’s at the core of my identity. It’s also the thing I think I fail at most consistently. It’s the most raw, vulnerable, tender open wound that continually gets torn open again. The lines blur between my kids and I, to where I don’t know where I end and where they begin. I never did have solid edges to begin with, except when I was very small.