I do the math in the dark. When my child graduates high school, I will be the age my own mother was when she became a grandmother. When they get married, I may be walking with a cane. I won't likely be the grandparent who chases them through the park for hours.
They got the version who knows that spilled milk is not a tragedy. That tantrums end. That a clean house is overrated. That patience is a muscle you’ve been building for decades. mature mom
I hear the sound of a life finally making perfect, beautiful, late-blooming sense. Don’t tell me I started too late. Tell me I started exactly when I was supposed to. I do the math in the dark
There is a difference.