Why I Feel Like a Queen This Mother's Day

by Amy Ruhlin

These later years of motherhood have gifts waiting for us, of that I am sure. I don't know yet what they are, but I stay alert.

My daughter, and my son, are both in their early 20s. They are smitten with the idea of endless possibilities and surprising opportunities. They are embarking on their young, exciting lives, and heeding the call: "Come on in! The water is fine. You'll love it." They wade in, eagerly, waist deep. I strain to watch, standing safely along the shoreline, my feet firmly planted in the sand.

As I watch them dive in, I remind myself that this is now their time. We boomer parents had our own spotlight for many years. But now, we stand a bit in the shadows, and if we have the courage and wisdom, we will at least try to be the elders, the ones who have the sense to get off of center stage and instead, offer a supporting role. Comes a time, boomers.

My son recently took me to his college art studio where we ran into some of his fellow students. He eagerly introduced me: "This is my Mom," he said. I loved the way he said "Mom" -- there was gladness, gratitude and dare I say, pride in his voice. His hip, young friends' eyes lit up. "Your Mom! Wow, has she seen your work yet?" "Not yet!' he replied. When they left, my son and I walked through the studio together, while he gently and humbly pointed out some of his art. I could tell that it meant something to him to show his mom his work. And somehow, for the first time, instead of feeling like an older mother, I felt like a Queen.

It wasn't like when I was a younger mom. I didn't feel needed. I didn't feel like I had to have all of the answers. Or that I was taking care of him. Instead, I felt recognized. I felt appreciated. I felt honored.

So, give it up boomer mamas. Our supporting role is the best one yet.

All hail the Queen on this Mother's Day.

Rest, Live and Be Loved

by Amy Ruhlin
 

Sometimes I think we boomers are in a bit of a panic. At least, I know that sometimes, I am. 

Especially in those moments when I realize that we’ve been on this planet for more than half a century. When I mention this small fact to folks my age, they often look shocked and horrified. Surely that estimation isn’t right. Can’t be. We’re too hip for that. Too busy. Too revolutionary. We don’t do old.

It just doesn't seem to fit the boomer storyline- sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll, baby. And after that, upward mobility, tiger moms and helicopter parenting.

I mean, we've got this. 

So, true to our nature, we’ve turned these later years into opportunities to reinvent ourselves. Which is a wonderful thing. I created a blog when I turned 50, after years of raising my children and having a career as a therapist. And from that simple, and for a lot of us, courageous act of deciding to write at this stage in life, I’ve had the amazing opportunity to have my work published on a little website called The Huffington Post. I’ve also volunteered, worked for a non-profit and currently work as an independent contractor.  I've reconnected with old friends and with parts of my own self. A full steam ahead reinvention effort. 

But lately, my reinventing seems to have stalled.

 

So I’ve been taking naps. And taking great joy in wearing my colorful, winter scarves, being and laughing with my husband of thirty years, and watching our children embark on their exciting, young adult lives.

On good days, I tell myself that I’m just chillin'. On others, I worry that I’m just being old. I worry that I’m being an inadequate reinventor and wonder if I should do something new, like become a bank teller. Or take up skydiving.

Yesterday, I had a conversation with an old friend via text. She told me that in addition to working full-time, she is going back to school to get her degree, something she’s always wanted to do. I told her how happy I am for her, but that I didn’t know how she did it, because frankly, I’m beat.

 

And then she texted me this: “You’ve done it all. Now is your time to rest, live and be loved.”

 

I wanted to reach through my cell phone screen and hug her.

 

I decided it’s okay to just chill for a while. Or to just be old. And to just love and be loved.
In fact, in our 24/7 crazy world, these acts could be the most revolutionary reinvention of all. And that is very much a part of our boomer storyline.

 
Rest, live and be loved—I’ve got this.