When Life Occurs out of Order

http://www.ctpost.com/default/article/Life-doesn-t-always-occur-in-order-361672.php

By Deborah DiSesa Hirsch

I don't fit in anywhere. Guess that's what happens when you have a child when you're nearly 50.

Don't get me wrong. I adore our son, and the (young) parents of his friends. But there's a certain disconnect when I'm hot-flashing and they're trying to decide whether to have another baby.

Let's face it. Who wouldn't rather hang out with people who can drink all night and still get up for hockey than someone contemplating hip replacement? I'm kidding, of course. (Well, maybe, a little.)

Younger parents accept us as one of them. They invite us to all their parties and don't even mind when we leave on New Year's Eve at 10. (They're used to it; we do it every year.) But I'll never forget the day I realized the mom of my son's best friend was born the same year I graduated from high school.

It's delightful having an 8-year-old at our age. We're lucky -- we leave rock-climbing to the younger parents and take the boys to the movies, or places where you can sit down.

It was different when Phillip was a baby. Maybe you just don't notice in between the diapers and feedings and terrible 2s. It's only when you start to get your life back that you realize you're worrying about whether he should play soccer and your peers are planning a baby shower -- for their kid's kid!

I've always been a step or two behind. I had a long career before I met my husband. Then we waited 10 years to marry. And why have a kid right away? I was 46 when I became pregnant with our son, a week past 47 when he was born.

But we love it. Having a kid at this age keeps you young. Luckily, I don't look my age. Though I'm hearing, "Is that your grandson?" more and more often these days.

Someone said it best. With kids, you live in the present. Worry about illness or retirement? Heck, no. We're out of milk again? And, OMG, the bus is here and I forgot to make his lunch!

On Valentine's Day, our friends will be going into the city for dinner, but by the time they sit down, we'll be in bed. Most likely, sleeping.

I'm not sure if this is the right way for most people. I admit that when I was diagnosed with cancer when Phillip was 3, and again when he was 5, I thought we were not so smart. (I'm thankful now I'm OK.)

I don't know if I would have appreciated Phillip if I'd had him in my 30s. I remember my sister hating that my mom was older (she had her at 36). "Look for the old lady with white hair," she told someone in sixth grade. Those were the days when women didn't do this. But nearing 50 now herself, she'd be hard-pressed to find one friend who didn't have a baby who was older.

I'd do it all again in a second, though I admit I'm the one having naps now. But when we're reading together, or hiking through the Stamford Museum and Nature Center (or buying another magic kit), our son doesn't seem to mind. Yes, we waited a long time to have him. But we feel so blessed. Being the oldest parents in the school seems a small price to pay.

Happy Valentine's Day, parents all.

Deborah DiSesa Hirsch is a writer living in Stamford.