The Peculiarity of the Quarterlife Crisis

At the ripe ol’ age of 29 I find myself smack dab in the middle of a fistfight between my multiple personalities. In one corner, we have Mrs. Wannabe-June Cleaver who stays at home baking cookies, darning socks and waiting to greet Mr. Cleaver at the door with a big pot roast in one hand and a highball in the other. In the other corner, Ms. I-Refuse-To-Act-A-Day-Older-Than-19 who blares all kinds of morally offensive music once the kids leave the car, would rather spend money on Red Bulls than start a college fund, and thinks a clean pair of Chucks are part of a suitable professional wardrobe.

It’s a difficult task trying to find that balance between the new “grown up” side of me and the somewhat-irresponsible punk I always will be. Don’t get me wrong here – It’s not like I party until the wee hours while my kids are at home chugging Mountain Dew and watching South Park. But after work, I’m for damn sure halfway to the wine rack before the girls can even get their backpacks off and drop them by the front door. And I’ve at least stopped wearing my stupid graphic t-shirts from the boys department at WalMart  – to work, anyway.

Since having children, I’ve felt that I’m expected to start wearing twinsets and pleated khakis and quit working so that I can shuttle my kids to play dates and cello lessons. I don’t know why…All I know is that I’m really not the Type A mom type. I’m not the kind of mom who can bake 6 dozen cookies for the class party and volunteer for every field trip. I am the type of mom makes loud embarrassing fart noises in the middle of the store just because it makes the girls laugh hysterically. And that’s all that matters, right? I’m happy; my kids are happy…who cares that I’ve got the sense of humor, music taste and fashion sense of an adolescent. Does motherhood mean I’m expected to trade in my Jay-Z for Celine Dion; my childish Smurf socks for nude nylons; my insane dream of being one of Justin Timberlake’s backup dancers for president of the PTA?