for www.flowerpowermom.com
Aside from the very presence of my children, few miracles of nature give me greater happiness than witnessing the stereotypes of later life motherhood joyfully crushed beneath the boot-heel of reality by the a tender simplicity of an empirical truth.
It is like finding a blushing rose in the blackened fields of nuclear ruin. A chronological conundrum. A permanent paradox. Fate’s humorous twist.
When they label us “older” mothers, immediately the image of a rheumy-eyed and bespectacled granny—doddering precariously on her twin hip replacements, with one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel—is conjured in the minds of the general public.
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