by Kimberly Froeschner
I'm 40.  I don't mind admitting that, but it does sound very strange to hear myself say.  Growing up I thought 40 was "old".  Not grandparents old, but still old.  I had certain assumptions about what I thought it would be like to be 40.  I assumed I'd be dressing my age, which implies something involving elastic-waisted polyester pants, and the hair dresser would do my hair in that same helmet style that my grandmothers employed.  (I can promise you I don't own any polyester pants and I only go to the hair dresser when I need a hair cut.  And I don't call him a hair dresser.)

I don't feel "old".  I don't feel 40.  Sometimes I don't feel like I'm even a full-blown adult.  I own a house, a car, have a full time job, a husband and a small child.  I can assure you I'm quite responsible, maybe even a little bit stick in the mud with my sense of responsibility.  To any outsider I'm very much a responsible full grown adult.  I just have this internal voice that often wonders if this is how my mother felt at this age, or my grandmother even.  I don't feel "old".  

So, ladies (and gents), I'm proud to tell you that I've found what could be the Foutain of Youth!  It's my mother.  It dawned on me recently that my parents, most specifically my mother, are the reason I doubt my own maturity.  Here's an example:

My husband went on a business trip.  His return flight got him to the airport at 1am on a Friday night.  Pre-children, this would be no problem.  I'd hop in the car and go pick him up.  Now that we have a small child, this requires some planning.  I don't want to drag the small child out in the cold at midnight to go pick up Daddy, so I ask my parents if they can watch her while I get him (preferably let her spend the night).  My parents agree and we're all set.  Five minutes later, my mother calls and says "Don't you think it would be better if your Daddy picks him up instead because you don't need to be driving around in the middle of the night by yourself."  Of course, I'm immediately picturing all the times I drove myself around in the middle of the night, probably doing things I "had no business doing". 

Did I mention I'm a 40 year old wife and mother who owns her own house and car? 

My mama doesn't intervene in my daily life, or baby me all the time, but when things like this come up and she's made aware of the circumstances, she frequently plays the mother card.  THIS IS IT!  This is why I sometimes feel I'm not there yet.  Over the hill is something I might never see, at least mentally.  

Call your mother...  get 20 years back.