Since becoming a mom (again) at 41, I've experienced time warps.
I don't know what else to call the phenomena of time standing still when people realize how old I am in stark contrast to how young my daughter is.
The most recent time warp happened when I attended a birthday party with Christa. For my four-year-old daughter there is nothing better than a birthday party. She searches the toy aisles for the perfect gift. She's quite a good shopper, too, thanks to her older sisters. And she is very generous with my money. She loves wrapping the gift--and usually insists it is done days before the party. She always wants to select just the right dress to wear, even if the celebration involves ice skating or running around a gymnastics studio.
When Christa goes to a birthday party, I attend the party, too. With teenagers, you drop them off at a friend's house or wave goodbye as they drive themselves (after finding out all the vital information about parental supervision and boy/girl ratio.)
And so, I find myself surrounded by over-excited toddlers and their moms. Inevitably, someone asks, " Is Christa your first child?" or "Does Christa have any brothers or sisters?"
I take a deep breath and reply, "Actually, I have a 21-year-old son and daughters who are 18 and 16."
And as I say those words, time slows down. I can almost hear the other moms performing mental calculations as they try to figure out just how old is this woman?
Their assumption--that I am about their age--warps into reality: most of them are closer to my son's age. I laugh, letting the other moms know it is okay to laugh about my being a late-in-life (older) mom. Eventually, time resumes its normal pace and the kids enjoy cake and ice cream and helping the birthday girl open her presents.
I don't know if what other people say is true: that Christa will keep me young. (Usually she keeps me tired.) But I do know that, thanks to her, I've seen time stand still.