I had my first two daughters in my early 30s and my youngest when I was 38. Parenting a toddler in my 40s is different.
Photo: Dale Berman
I had my first child at 30 and my second at 32. My husband and I, content with our family of four, were surprised when we found ourselves expecting yet again several years later. I had my third daughter at 38; although it doesn't seem like much, those few years had a noticeable effect on my experience as a mom.
Naturally, the challenges of keeping up with a toddler in my early-to-mid-30s paled in comparison to doing it all over again in my 40s. My older children were too old to play with their little sister, but they were also too young to babysit, so it felt like I never got a break. And I secretly feared that, as my youngest grew up, I'd eventually be mistaken for her grandmother.
As a stay-at-home mom when my older kids were little, I lived and breathed all things motherhood. I coordinated play dates, did school drop-off and pick-up every day, prepared healthy after-school snacks and home-cooked meals, and dutifully carted them to music lessons, soccer practice, and ballet class.
In contrast, I've been a working mom my youngest child's entire life. She caught the bus after school or hitched a ride back home with a friend. She arrived home to her grandmother and two older sisters, who were already well into their stacks of homework. I guiltily enlisted friends and neighbors to ferry her to soccer practice and play rehearsals. She became, for better or worse, an iPad kid.
Courtesy Lynnette Lyons
I listened to the same music as my older kids, and we often watched TV together. My little one, being so much younger, was frequently left out. Once, on a trip to visit family, everyone decided to play Cards Against Humanity, an adults-only game. My littlest girl and I listened from the other room while the rest of the family, including her sisters, roared with laughter as they played what sounded like the best game ever — one that only she wasn't allowed to play.
She confided in me not long after that she often felt ignored, as if she lived in her sisters' shadows. Her confession made me realize that, as my older children entered adolescence, I spent more and more of my time playing taxi service as I drove groups of teens to the mall, movies, and skate rink.
I reasoned that leaving my little one behind was OK as long as she was kept busy, that we had dinner together as a family most nights, and that I always tucked her into bed. But, spread so thin, I didn't realize my older kids' demands on my time had caused the baby of the family to feel like an afterthought. Overcoming that 'mom guilt' has been tough.
Photo: Dale Berman
I now know I needn't have felt guilty for relying on the help of other moms; my youngest credits her experiences being shuffled between friends and neighbors with turning her into a "social butterfly." She doesn't recall feeling neglected in her younger years and, in fact, relishes the one-on-one time she and I have had since her sisters became more self-sufficient.
I recently asked if she remembered being excluded from the family game night; she said she did, but didn't hold a grudge. "I'm glad my sisters and the rest of my family had a good time doing what they wanted to do," she said.
It's gratifying to see all three of my children becoming independent, successful individuals. My lastborn has two role models she loves and looks up to, and they absolutely adore her in return. She's never at a loss for advice or a sympathetic ear, and her sisters have gained invaluable experience as mentors.
And I'm happy to report that no one has called me grandma — yet.
