My early twenties feel like they were just yesterday. Despite my current life being a far cry from nights filled with body shots, piercings that would make my mother cringe, and other questionable decisions, I remember those days vividly (thanks to some help from a little too much partying). Perhaps it’s my petite frame that tricks others into thinking I’m still in my teens, or maybe it’s the fact that my kids have generously bestowed upon me the beauty sleep necessary for a youthful glow—just kidding, that’s certainly not the case! Regardless, I’ve always thought of my partner, Jake, and myself as relatively cool parents. I mean, sure, we have more responsibilities now, but we’re not total squares, right?
Wrong.
Last week, we finally seized a rare opportunity to escape for a day without our kids. It was pure bliss, involving a six-hour drive to our destination. We turned off the endless loop of princess songs and reveled in the freedom of choosing our own music. We indulged in snacks without a single child asking for a bite, and I even took a nap during the drive. Who knew road trips without kids could be so relaxing?
On our way back, we stopped at a burger joint for dinner. While Jake ordered our food, I grabbed a quiet booth and checked my phone for any updates from our babysitter—who, let’s be honest, is really just our friends who we convinced it would be fun to watch our kids for a day. (They totally fell for it.)
Just as we started enjoying our meal, a group of young guys plopped down in the booth next to us. They were tan, fit, and wearing tank tops that left little to the imagination. They looked like they had just come from a beach party, despite being nowhere near the ocean.
As they lounged and tossed their sun-kissed hair, Jake leaned over and whispered, “Do you think they’re in college?” I tried to be subtle as I squinted at them, agreeing, “Definitely! College kids.”
Then, a gaggle of girls bounced in, clearly knowing the guys. They were giggling, high-fiving, and wearing shorts that could double as belts. Their loud laughter filled the room like they were the stars of some reality show. Jake and I exchanged eye rolls.
“That’s annoying,” he muttered. I rubbed my temples and groaned, “It’s too loud in here, and my head is killing me. We should get home; it’s getting late.”
It was still bright outside.
And that’s when it hit me like a ton of bricks. My life is nothing like theirs anymore. I don’t look like that. I don’t act like that. Did I ever? Just moments ago, Jake and I felt triumphant over our early dinner, while these kids were probably just starting their day and wouldn’t hit the hay until we were waking up. What I had thought was my not-so-distant past suddenly felt like a whole different universe.
I looked at my outfit—conservative cardigan and practical shoes (after all, we had been walking a lot). I glanced at Jake, who was sporting a smart polo and khaki shorts—not cargo, thankfully. We looked, well, old in comparison.
And I forgot to mention, we had just come from a Vatican exhibit at the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library. Yes, we spent our day alone marveling at papal artifacts. And we actually enjoyed it! The icing on the cake? We discovered and reported a grammar mistake in the museum, and we felt like champions for it.
It shouldn’t take a group of lively young adults to remind me of my gradual descent into “old lady” territory. But for now, I’ll embrace my yoga pants and nightly glass of pinot grigio like the fabulous 30-something who’s definitely not trying to keep up with the kids. Life has brought me here, and it’s not slowing down anytime soon. I’m just going to keep aging, graying, and maybe getting a bit cranky. And you know what? I’m okay with that. Besides, I’m still sharp enough to hashtag, so I’m not totally lost, right? #FuddyDuddyForLife
Summary
As I reflect on my life, I realize how much has changed since my youthful days. A recent outing with my husband illuminated just how far removed we are from the carefree lifestyle of our twenties. We now embrace our roles as parents and enjoy the quieter pleasures of adulthood, even if it means accepting our “fuddy-duddy” status.
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