Trying to Age Gracefully….(emphasis on trying!)

I often have to remind myself that I’m still their Mom… Even if I’ve been ghosted (especially by my sons.)

Let me just say it:

Parenting adult children is like being demoted… without notice… or severance.   But I didn’t sign a contract saying, “Congratulations, you’re now just a backup character in your own story.”

Remember when I used to be their whole world?  Their Uber, chef, therapist, personal shopper, and biggest hype woman?  Now I’m lucky if they text me back before the next presidential election.

When did that shift happen? Was it when they started dating? Got married? Had kids? Yeah… probably. (Cue dramatic eye roll and tiny violin.)

I miss when my kids were my kids.

Not my daughter-in-law’s husband.

Not my son-in-law’s wife.

Not my grandkids mom or dad.

Just mine.

And yeah, I know that might sound selfish.  But I don’t care. I earned my stripes, honey.  I was in the trenches—carpool lines, chicken nugget dinners, puberty.  

Don’t get me wrong—I LOVE being Nana (and adore my kids spouses). But I haven’t retired from being Mom.  I didn’t clock out.  Nobody handed me a severance package and said, “Thanks for raising me, we’ll take it from here.”

These days, I feel like an unpaid intern at UsedToBeMom. Inc. No meetings. No memos. No one tells me anything.

I’m still relevant. I’ve still got life advice, killer one-liners, and snacks in my purse at all times. I mean, HELLO—I survived parenting them, I deserve a trophy and maybe a weekly FaceTime!

So just for the record:

I am more than Nana.

I’m still their MOTHER.

Still fabulous. Still funny. Still waiting on that text back.