For Those Who’ve Gone Before Me: Zip It!
When I was fifteen years old, I proudly received my learner’s license, and a senior girl wiped my smile clean off my face with, “Oh! You’re just a baby!” Sure, ok, probably. And again, when I was a senior and graduated, a co-waitress busted my bubble again: “Ha! You’re still a baby. Welcome to the real world!” And it wasn’t just new starts or new chapters in my life, it was also when I felt experienced and wiser. Even still, adults with maybe two years of life more than me felt the need and promotion of declaring that wonderful metaphor. “You’re just a baby” was another way of saying, “Zip it and listen to me.” All throughout my twenties and thirties, this was the phrase that I loathed more than any other. “You’re just a baby!” I vowed at an early age to NEVER call anyone over two years old a “baby,” and I’ve stuck to that oath.
I’m a baby? It’s a difficult truth to swallow. And it’s irritating.
When I was newly married, I received and soaked up as much advice as I could. Same as when I became a mother; I starved for all the instructions I could get. Fine, call me a baby. Whatever. Just help me. Tell me what to do. Throughout my thirties and my forties, I was labelled with this condescending term, and in the midst, I, in my doll dress with a pacifier and Pampers (if I can have the choice) sitting in my playpen, have learned three things.
First of all (allow me to set my rattler down), advice from those before me was based solely on these women’s own personal experiences, which rarely were my own. We can only speak for ourselves, and our advice can only be based on our own individual lives. For me, there was no honeymoon period — for my hubby and me, that first year was coined the “year of hell.” Real life hit us head on! We now agree the marital journey improves and progresses along the way. In a similar sense, the first few days of my first child’s life were not “beautiful”; I experienced this strange new feeling of post-partum depression (which, by the way, no one warned me about!). Furthermore, giving “full leadership to my husband” harmed our relationship more than helped it. Yes, he is the leader of our home, but remaining silent, which was advised, is a lie in our relationship and in our future. If he wants to move a lamp somewhere other than where I placed it, too bad. (A book I read suggested I let him move a lamp anywhere he wants to.) So, while I appreciate the advice, I’ve learned to take it on the side, please.
Secondly, I’ve learned that life as parents isn’t increasingly more difficult, and it’s doesn’t get worse. Two mothers with teenagers and college kids once advised me on a friendly outing. I had my toddler in my lap, my other toddler about to wet herself, and my preschooler eating crackers for lunch. I hadn’t had a shower and I ran on little sleep with no chance of a break anytime soon. I could pull off the well-kept-supermom look as good as any mom. It was like an elephant in the room: which mom could do the most in life and look like nothing phased a single hair? I was driven to take that trophy! The mothers were wonderful friends and meant well, but their warning to me was stupid, come to find out. They told me mothering was unbelievably more difficult with older kids than with younger. Oh no! That can’t be! I thought. Now, with a 21-year-old son, an almost 18-year-old daughter, and a 16-year-old daughter, their advice just isn’t true. Not so far, anyway. Sure, I’m often nervous when they’re driving, dating, checking out crazy stuff on their phones, and finding work while looking for their futures. But I think we forget the intensity of the hard days of the past. We can only see and remember the tough times of the present. Hindsight. Those younger years ultimately worked out, and we can’t see tomorrow. It’s terrifying, just as it was with our wobbling toddlers. Parenting — careful, Katy, speak for yourself — for me, gets better and better and better every day. But you do you.
Thirdly, and to wrap it up, life is great on each today. Life gets better. Even on the bad days, the dark days, life is better today than it was yesterday. So, love you where you are. We’re all babies together. As you learn, so do I and so does everyone. If you can read this, rest assured, I will never be that tacky woman that calls you a baby.
I truly believe that a steadfastness in faith in God has been my anchor, leader, and support. In Psalm 18:16 King David says God picked him up, like a baby, the way a father loves His child. There’s so much I still have to learn on my own. Along the way, I have the glee of a fat, happy baby. I haven’t gotten any life advice in a while, none that I’ve listened to. Perhaps I’ll find a blog or group to join on “Women in their 50s.” Now, if someone dares to suggest I’m a baby at 50, well, I’m flattered.
