By Mia Carella of (this) mom with a blog
Dear Little Gray,
Can I call you that? I know we just met, but I feel strangely close to you already.
It was an ordinary weekday morning when you came into my life. I was running around in a hurried frenzy trying to get my oldest child ready to take her to school, all the while keeping my toddler in check. I was feeling haggard and defeated when I paused to get a glimpse of my hot mess self in the mirror before running out the door. This is a practice I don’t always get around to but do make an attempt to do when there is the possibility I will be seen in public. On this day I was successful, and to my surprise, there you were looking back at me.[adsanity id=”35664″ align=”aligncenter”/]
You stood erect, sticking straight up from the rest of my dark brown tresses. Your texture was thick and coarse, and there was no mistaking who you were – my first gray hair.
Oh, Little Gray, how did you know to show up when you did? I have been going through an existential (midlife?) crisis lately, as I am approaching my 40th birthday in a few short months. I have been feeling the weight of that number, trying to find new ways to stay young and relevant. I began running, trying to eat healthier and searching for new skincare routines to stop the progression of those “telltale fine lines and wrinkles.” Then, just like that, you appeared. It’s as if you knew and you showed up to join the party.[adsanity id=”35667″ align=”aligncenter”/]
Like a kick in the ass when you are already down, you were there. Like a [insert list of irritating things from a specific Alanis Morissette song here], you were there.
Thank you, Little Gray, for your presence. It was so kind of you to remind me that aging is inevitable, and no matter what I do there is no escaping the journey to becoming elderly. It appears that I have hopped on the Old Lady Express and it’s full speed ahead.[adsanity id=”35665″ align=”aligncenter”/]
Getting older is tough on a person, you know. Even though the number of years behind me continues to increase, inside I still feel like a kid. It’s weird that way. Inside I am still 20, fun and cool (wait…do people say ‘cool’ anymore?). Although on the outside I look like the mom in charge, trying to keep it all together, inside I am the insecure, young girl who is still looking to my own mom for guidance. I wonder if the mind ever really catches up with the body. I think that’s why we all try so hard to fight this whole aging thing. No offense. Do you understand, Little Gray?
To be honest, I really don’t mind you joining me. I can tell that you won’t be an issue. You look like the type who will keep to themselves. You add character and depth, right? I will chalk this one up to looking wiser, not older.[adsanity id=”35666″ align=”aligncenter”/]
Just one favor? Don’t invite your friends. Not yet, anyway. Okay? Okay.
About the Author
Mia Carella is a stay-at-home mom who lives with her husband, their two children, and their dog. She likes reading, writing and spending time with her family. She dislikes cooking, cleaning and adulting in general, but absolutely loves being a mom. Her work has been published on Scary Mommy, Babble, HuffPost Parents, and more. Read more on Mia’s website, (this) mom with a blog, and follow her on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and Pinterest.