November 21, 2009



Dear Diary,

Awkward body – check
Waves of hormones – check
Self doubt – check
Self consciousness – check
Angst – check
Crippling uncertainty – check

It seems as if I have all the makings of a bonafide puberty induced crisis – except – I’m 34 not 14.

More than just a mid-life crisis. This is a maternal mid-life crisis and it seeps into all aspects of the concrete life I used to have.

Ah the concretes! I concretely drank. I concretely danced. I concretely wandered the streets of New York aimlessly seeking gelato one night, brooches another, spice vendors another…
My twenties were one giant scavenger hunt set in New York City where I meandered from one adventure to the next.

But now.

Now I find myself a mother when I never thought I wanted to be one. I am ten years older. No longer qualifying for Hello Kitty accessories and yet not really feeling like entering the world of Chico’s permanently. I have a small person attached to my boob for whom I desperately try to clean up my potty mouth.

I attend storytime, read developmental books by doctors’ whose pictures I would have made fun of two years ago and hunt down new playgrounds to crash.

But all the while I feel like someone will tap me on the shoulder soon and say “Hey! What are you doing with that baby? Put him down and scram!”

What persona to adopt now that I am mother? I feel a farce as I smile sweetly at the librarian. I cringe in the doctor’s waiting room feeling oddly out. I slink around the other moms at the playground hoping they’ll talk to me/hoping they won’t talk to me. I wonder if mini dresses are now on a don’t list for me.

Of course, I only have to look to US Weekly to feel a little relieved and slightly disgusted. After all, I unwittingly ended up participating in what seems to be the new baby boom of the 21st century or is it 22nd? There is Angelina, Halle, Nicole, Heidi, Salma, etc., etc. There is the OctoMom and Kate and 8 minus Jon. There are the Duggers and those people from Table for Ten or is it Twelve…? The babies and their mothers are everywhere; Young, old, single, married, divorced, Hispanic, Black, White, Asian, famous, tattooed, so on and so forth.

So why do I feel so alienated and out of touch?

Sigh…alas it’s past my bedtime and methinks I feel a blemish cropping up….til next time -