I Am a Mom at 57

Be careful what you wish for. Truth.

My entire life, all I ever wanted was to be a mom. However, life seldom hands you what you want when you want it. You have to work at. After various tests and procedures, it seemed futile to continue down this path toward parenthood, so my spouse and I decided to just live our life and be content more for what we had than what we didn't.

When Mom was diagnosed (sort of) with dementia and I took over all decisions for her well being, I realized I finally had become a mom.

What is a Mom? A bearer of human life. A kisser of boo boos. A giver of all without expectation of a thank you. While I didn't fit the description of the first two items, I truly felt the impact of the third definition.

Here is a scenario of any of our outings: Put your coat on. Do you have to go to the bathroom? Well just try. Wash your hands.

I have to remember to bring Depends and another pair of pants; just in case. I think someone needs to design an adult diaper bag. Something chic.

My biggest fear is she has no idea where she lives. On one outing I felt so peculiar, I actually wrote a note with her name and address and put it in my purse. I am thinking of having a bracelet made containing this information and have her wear it when we go out.

Through all this, the only comments I get from her is on how I look like I'm expecting or my hair needs combing. Both true, but still. And that's how I envision a mom feeling. Doing a hundred thankless tasks without any compliments of what a great job they're doing.

Mom and my spouse being silly.

But at the end of the day, when you're giving hugs or laughing at just being silly together and hearing, "I love you," then you know what a joy it is to be a mom.

Even if it's at the age of 57.