Recently I attended an event that was comprised mostly of people outside of my social network: the 30-something single and childless crowd. I felt a tad insecure in my riding boots and skinny jeans (that make my legs look more like stuffed sausages), while they were rocking stylish tops from stores I’d never heard of, torn jean shorts that begged for attention and carefully allocated accessories.
Rather than be insecure, I thought I’d investigate further. Had I not met the man of my dreams at the ripe age of 16 and settled into domestic bliss by the age of 20, this could be my life, too. I could be a hot 30-something rocking the look of a 21 year old, but with a confidence few young 20-somethings possess. I was drawn to their confidence. They seemed to be so comfortable in their own skin. I was intrigued and wanted to know more. I wanted to experience a path not traveled.
I tried to blend into their conversations about dating and roommates (things I’ve never experienced myself) and rather than try to build a rapport, I chose to be more of a fly on the wall, taking a journey into the life I could have had.
This was truly the most uncomfortable and mesmerizing experience I can recall in recent times. I felt like an adult, but also like I was back in high school; the new girl that just didn’t quite fit in. They spoke of men they dated and the life lessons they learned from each relationship, building careers as responsible women in the workforce, one-night-stands GASP! and of course the latest gossip amongst their peer group. It was like a scene from Sex and the City ... New Orleans style. All topics I can say I’ve never broached with my peer group. Yes, we discuss our careers (or lack thereof), but the conversation is less about growth and more about balance. We discuss men, but our men are our husbands and the father of our children; it’s more about what time they make it home for dinner and what fun activities they’re doing with the kids.
In the end, I left feeling a touch envious of their high fashion and slim hips, but ultimately I realized that I, too, am blessed for my life. I like my world; I’m comfortable here. I like my conversations about weight loss, schools, poop of every kind, parenting tactics and epic temper tantrums. It’s where I belong at this point.
Sometimes I forget how young I am. Having children really does fling you into a world of your own. While the convos may have switched from all about me to all about the kids, I’m okay with that. My kids are my work and my whole life, so it makes sense that they make their way into my friendships, too. While I wouldn’t mind narrower hips and more fashionable clothes, I feel blessed for what I have. It’s just fun to experience life on the other side (for a minute) … and then I want my babies back in my arms. Poop and all.