I realize at age 40, I am an older Mom. I accept that. I'm okay with it.
But when I am mistaken YET AGAIN for my daughter's Grandmother, well, a girl gets a little self-conscious.
I wasn't even terribly offended when the nice woman at the playground who obviously WAS there with her two granddaughters asked me if Meredith was my Granddaughter.
It was the way she emitted a surprised "OH!" when I said, "No she's my daughter."
Really? Is it REALLY that shocking?
Time to dye the no-longer-prematurely gray hair.
Quinoa, frogs legs and more musings from “The Picnic Game” - [image: ford_featured] When it comes to games involving the alphabet, pity the participant who is in his sixties and can't remember what comes after the let...
18 hours ago