At my older mothers' group today we joked about being grateful that life expectancies have gone up so much in recent decades. The undertone, of course, was serious; I'm sure we're all wondering if we'll still be alive and kicking when our children are approaching middle age. We didn't really dwell on the topic; and certainly, we're all doing okay, health-wise, as most of the babies approach their first birthday. But the test is probably how we're doing as they approach their eighteenth birthdays. How does one pace oneself for the next seventeen years? And how do we accept the fact that we'll almost be senior citizens by the time our kids graduate from high school?
Perhaps the biggest fear is: how will our children accept that fact, once it fully sinks in?
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