Not Quite a Midlife Crisis

It’s not often that I write on consecutive days but, as it turns out, yesterday proved to be a very significant day in my life:

The start of my 2/5 life crisis.

I’m using 2/5 because that’s approximately where I am in life using Wikipedia to find the average lifespan in the US. Yes, I Googled it. I’m not old enough for a midlife crisis and yet I can’t shake this feeling that I officially closed out a part (i.e. a group of chapters) of my life yesterday.

Why? Two words:

Kindergarten. Kickoff.

Well, okay. It’s more than two words. It’s the fact that I non-ironically wore mom jeans yesterday (they really do help contain things) and only stopped myself from wearing penny loafers with them (Hello, comfort!) because I have a bewitched full length mirror in my house.

Yes, I’m serious.

Yesterday I caught the glimpse of someone’s mom in the reflection when I walked by. Explain that to me, huh? Who is she? What does she want?

Burn. the. sage.

I saw her and immediately swapped out my penny loafers for some leopard print flats. (You know, because nothing screams “youth” like a 30-something mom of two wearing animal print [**insert eye-roll here**]). It’s not that I have anything against the mom jean-penny loafer combo in particular. It’s just that combined with the words “Kindergarten” and “Kickoff” they take on a life of their own.

Up until this point in life, I’ve felt that I’ve been writing my story. I grew up. I graduated. I started my career. Even when we got married and had kids, I was still the sentence subject. But now my daughter is starting kindergarten in the Fall and I’m acutely aware that I’m becoming the object of her sentences. A character in her story.

And so it begins. The 2/5 life crisis. I don’t know why no one warned me about this. I don’t even know how I’m supposed to act. Is this when I start shopping at Forever 21 or does that come later? I’ve been listening to Billie Eilish on repeat. I think that might be appropriate but I don’t really know. I’m floundering here.

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