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Tracy is the author of Confessions of a Nervous Shiksa and Real Women Eat Beef. Her essays have also appeared in The Boston Globe Sunday Magazine.
“Getting Some” is a chronicle of a new life stage for first time moms over 30, who have come to realize it’s an existential joke to “have it all” and who have settled for just getting, well, some.
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Tracy McArdle
Tracy is the author of Confessions of a Nervous Shiksa and Real Women Eat Beef. Her essays have also appeared in The Boston Globe Sunday Magazine.
Welcome to Getting Some
Who are we? We were hot, hip and had careers. At least, we thought so. We had mocha lattes and conference calls, Jo Malone and Treos. We flew business class. Yes, we were privileged. Fortunate. Lucky. All that.
But now things are different. We have thicker middles and shorter energy. Someone else comes first now, and although we love that little someone with the entirety of human existence, it’s so consuming that sometimes we forget to brush our teeth or insert a tampon.
Occasionally, we secretly think things suck and we long for our old life. Getaway ski trips, weekends that started at noon and $200 jeans. We have been humbled. Sometimes we are lonely and frustrated. Confused. Feel like Meryl Streep in The Bridges of Madison County, a desperate housewife of the other kind. We’ve thought about buying an apron. We’ve thought about antidepressants.
But somehow, we are also secretly delighted to discover the unexpected nooks and crannies of this new life. Music classes and the local library, first teeth and the delirious joys of Target. Buying groceries in sneakers, in the company of your child instead of everyone else in your city doing the 6:30 what’s-for-dinner panic. The surprising fun of floor play. The shaping of a little soul that’s yours – for a little while.
We struggle with guilt and entitlement, identity and self worth. Money, of course. Relationships. But as long as we can laugh at ourselves, it’s all going to be ok. I hope you’ll join me on this journey. As songwriter Ben Lee said, we’re all in this together.
But now things are different. We have thicker middles and shorter energy. Someone else comes first now, and although we love that little someone with the entirety of human existence, it’s so consuming that sometimes we forget to brush our teeth or insert a tampon.
Occasionally, we secretly think things suck and we long for our old life. Getaway ski trips, weekends that started at noon and $200 jeans. We have been humbled. Sometimes we are lonely and frustrated. Confused. Feel like Meryl Streep in The Bridges of Madison County, a desperate housewife of the other kind. We’ve thought about buying an apron. We’ve thought about antidepressants.
But somehow, we are also secretly delighted to discover the unexpected nooks and crannies of this new life. Music classes and the local library, first teeth and the delirious joys of Target. Buying groceries in sneakers, in the company of your child instead of everyone else in your city doing the 6:30 what’s-for-dinner panic. The surprising fun of floor play. The shaping of a little soul that’s yours – for a little while.
We struggle with guilt and entitlement, identity and self worth. Money, of course. Relationships. But as long as we can laugh at ourselves, it’s all going to be ok. I hope you’ll join me on this journey. As songwriter Ben Lee said, we’re all in this together.
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