On Not Looking 30

Since it's brought to my attention at least once every week of my life, I thought I'd take a second to address this little issue.  Apparently, I don't look like I'm 30 . . . or even 25 . . . or even old enough to have children.  Cry me a river, right?  Before you get all "I wish I had that problem", let me share what it's actually like.  I get stared at all the time.  I know what they're thinking: are those all her kids . . . how old is she . . . she can't be their mom.  I know this, because so many strangers have actually commented or questioned.  At first, I was so thankful for the people who were brave enough to come right out and ask my age.  I felt less judged when I could announce that I was of a respectable age to be a parent.  However, as time passes, the weight of being questioned and judged and stared at gets heavier.  I don't want to explain myself or feel self-conscious when one of the girls misbehaves in public because people are thinking I'm some young girl who can't manage her children or know that the other parents are whispering to each other about my age.  Not to mention the time a little old lady came right up and asked if there was a dad around to help me out.  The judgement . . . so much judgement.  I know no one is trying to be offensive, so I'm not offended.  However, I am sensitive.  I'm sensitive because these girls were wanted and waited for.  I'm sensitive because it doesn't feel good to be stared at and questioned.  I'm sensitive because I don't want my girls to grow up thinking it's okay to be judged by the way you look.  I'm bracing for the beginning of another school year and new activities.  As we meet new people, my age will come into question; I'll smile and share that I am 30. I know people think I should be thankful, but we don't celebrate youth in this family; we celebrate growing older.  Age means that we've been given another year to love and learn and laugh and grow. 

Here's my baby face