I’m back from my “vacation” and would love to write to you all about the hilarity of myself, my daughter and my mother all crammed together in a small apartment in Florida, but my brain just isn’t functioning yet. Plus, the overfilled inbox is calling my name, so web time today will have to be short and sweet. I’ll just say that we had a great time, swam every single day, went to the beach as often as was possible, and now have sand in places we didn’t know existed. Travelling with almost-three-year-old Lucy is so different than in the past. She’s so easygoing and just wants to hang out, swim at the pool, run on the beach for hours, chase seagulls and spend evenings lounging around watching movies. My kind of girl, let me tell you.
I am so lucky that I’m a young mom, and can spend this time with her, playing follow the leader in the waves for hours on end. Being a younger mom is a daily struggle for me, and though things have gotten so much easier as both Lu and I get older, the challenges and frustrations with others in this community of motherhood hasn’t gone away. I’ll never forget sitting in my first playgroup when Lu was just a baby and someone asked me if I was the nanny (the only other younger woman in the group was, in fact, the nanny). Whether they meant to or not, so many people, especially other mothers, made me feel like a freak or a failure because I had my daughter at the ripe age of 23. During a time when I should have been being lifted up by other moms, I instead felt less than. Not worthy to hang out with them because I had made the “mistake” of having a child before I was ready (financially, emotionally, spiritually, etc.).
It’s easier now. Lucy’s older, I look a bit older (most people in my work life assume I’m a few years older than I am), I have a successful professional life. I’m not sure why that seems to ease some people’s anxiety about me having a three-year-old when I’m only 26, as I honestly feel the same as I did when I was 23, without a job, without a plan and with a baby attached to my boob. I still don’t quite feel like I belong. Not to the community of mother’s whose children share snacks with my own, and not to the group of old friends who cannot relate to my choice to have a child and grow up “too early.” I handle it better now, but the struggle is still there.
So for all you young mothers, watch and, at least for a moment, feel less alone. And then call me, we need to have a playdate!
