I’m what you might call an “older mother”—or as my OB chart so kindly puts it, a mom of Advanced Maternal Age (AMA). Apparently, the moment you turn 35, you earn that label. Well, I’ve outdone that milestone by a solid 12 years. I’ve always been ahead of the curve—early walker, early reader, and now, I coordinate advanced-placement classes at school. So, yes, I embrace the AMA title.
What Does It Really Mean to Be an Older Mom?
For starters, I’ve realized that somersaults are no longer in my repertoire. I discovered this when my kids were busy nailing their flips. My son, Leo, was zipping across the floor with all the grace of a nimble gymnast, while little Ben plopped down like a deflated balloon. In a moment of misguided enthusiasm, I decided to show off my once-impressive skills. Big mistake. I heard a crunch in my neck that was louder than the sound of my students munching on organic granola. I think I’ve got a few vertebrae rolling around in there like stray M&Ms. So, somersaults are officially off the table in our living room.
Being an older mom also means I’ve bid farewell to high heels. Back when my girls were toddlers, I donned stilettos daily—what a ridiculous idea! Teetering after little ones on towering shoes is a recipe for disaster. (Note to self: Maybe putting toddlers in stilts would slow them down? It might save my sanity—and their lives—during those chaotic parking lot moments. Plus, Leo told me he’s a superhero now, so who knows?)
The Hormonal Rollercoaster
Hormones are another fun aspect of being a mom of advanced age. It’s like a teenage drama happening on my face. One side is battling acne while the other side is mapping out a path to Botox. The result? A skin landscape that looks like a chaotic coastline.
In my earlier days as a mom, I splurged on every trending beauty product available. But with twins in the mix now, who has the time or funds for fancy skincare? Instead, I shamelessly use my boys’ products. Just last week, I dealt with a massive pimple on my bottom lip (yes, bottom lip—my skin is going through it), which some thought was a fever blister. I slapped on some diaper cream and woke up to a mere shadow of a blemish, which I tackled with baby wash. Who needs expensive treatments when toddler products do the trick? Plus, I smell delightful, and my cheeks are as baby-soft as they come.
Embracing the AMA Title
So yes, I’m a mom of AMA, and I’m perfectly okay with that. There are plenty of things that get better with age—like blue jeans, cast iron skillets, and fine wine.
Let’s break it down: I’m like a well-loved pair of blue jeans. I’m practical and stylish, ready for any occasion. I’m soft with experience and flexible, just enough Lycra to bounce back after those days when I bite off more than I can chew.
I’m also like a seasoned cast iron skillet—valuable and tough. I’m built to last, providing comfort and nourishment through the years. Not to mention, I perform better with age.
And since I’ve started the journey of motherhood again at 47, now with twin toddlers at 50, I’d say I’m like fine wine. Full-bodied and sweet, with a hint of acidity. I’m complex and earthy, and I promise I’m much more enjoyable if given a little time to breathe.
So yes, I wear that AMA badge with pride. Just like my beloved jeans, skillets, and wine, I’m better with age. Go ahead and label me—I’m ready for it!
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Conclusion
In summary, being a mom of Advanced Maternal Age is a unique experience filled with challenges, humor, and a bit of wisdom that only time can bring. Embracing this stage of life means celebrating all the good that comes with age, whether it’s the comfort of well-worn jeans or the richness of a fine vintage.