I was in my forties when I had children. I am glad that I didn’t have them any sooner. I don’t want to throw any shade on younger parents, but I’m pretty sure that I would have made a crap parent at 19. I would have fretted and been resentful at what I was missing while I was busy parenting and I wouldn’t have been nearly patient and understanding enough.
In addition, I’m sure that I wouldn’t have had the presence of mind to realize, every day, that these were all magical, fleeting times and that I needed to drink in every moment. Even on the bad days (and there were those, but not as many as there might have been) I could usually bring myself to the recognition that it was a process to savor.
Now that my children are mature, grown adults and living independent lives, I can bask in the memories of when our lives were completely intertwined.
It brings me joy.
—2p