Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter. ~Mark Twain
On Mother's Day, our pastor's sermon included a description of "Millennial Moms" as an illustration of how moms make a difference in the marketplace today. (At least that's what I got out of it, and am recalling at this point in time, 3 and a half weeks later.) Anyway, I got more and more excited as he described these "Millennial Moms" because they sounded just like me. Millennial Moms are the ones who brought about mini vans, he said, because station wagons just weren't cutting it anymore. Hey, I thought, I drive a mini van! "Millennial Moms" are eco-conscious, he went on, and more and more often they are using cloth diapers. Again, this struck a chord with me. I am nothing but passionate about Logan's FuzziBunz! Lastly, "Millennial Moms" are blogging. Um, duh. That's totally me! Right?
But then our pastor's description of these awesome new moms took a turn downhill. He mentioned that they were between the ages of 18-29. Just when I had been looking at Brett and thinking happily that I was a part of some cool new group of totally with-it hip moms, he whispered to me, "You're too old." Okay, that is true, I thought but can't I just eke by? This was only a few days before my 32nd birthday, which isn't all that much more than 29. I mean, what's 3 little years difference? And what happened to Brett saying that once I got to 29 I could just continue to be 29? Ouch!
I had gotten over this, because, well, secretly I decided that I met all of the other criteria for "Millennial Mom" and so decided that I must be one. And then my future sister-in-law came to town along with her mom and sister, and they were interested in going wine tasting. Not being much of a drinker, I checked into this and found a couple of places that weren't too far away. We had a good time at the first. I even found a wine I liked, which has never happened before, ever. My mom was ecstatic that she had to show her id; the server simply asked everyone for it before we got started. I later decided that this was an excellent idea and that they should card everyone no matter where you go. It's just plain diplomatic.
At the second winery, I went to use the bathroom first thing. When I returned, I asked if he had carded everyone. "Not yet," was the response from the server (who I later found out is the owner of the winery and really needs to brush up on his people skills!), but I only need to see theirs anyway," he said referring to Kristin (my future SIL) and her sister. I was crushed. And just a bit annoyed. And I have been stewing about it since Saturday. I keep trying to figure out how old I must have looked to him to not warrant checking my id. I had touched up my makeup and fixed my hair before we left, and I thought that I was stylishly dressed in an early-thirties kind of way (not trying to look younger, mind you, but still with the current decade...) The best explanation I have come up with is that I am a mom and I look like I am a mom, therefore, I look old enough to drink... and then some, apparently. I feel a bit sad about this, but I'll get over it. (I hope.)
It's sad to grow old, but nice to ripen. ~Brigitte Bardot