CA Strange
Proof My Friends Are as Weird as I Am

The Mom-Life Crisis

Last week Sarah of Goon Squad fame asked folks to fess up about their garage bands.  Well, I’ve never been with a band (being rather musically and vocally challenged), but I did mention that I am now, at the ripe old age of 36, taking drum lessons. Because I’m gonna be a Super Star! When I grow up.

Anyway. It occurs to me that I just might be experiencing a tad wee bit of the mom version of a mid-life crisis. If I was a guy I might get myself an I-ROC and start cruising for chicks, my comb-over flapping in the wind (sorry guys). Or… being a MOM… I could do something vaguely unconventional and entirely outside the realm of mom-hood.  Something fun, but also identity-ifying.  And in my case (or any woman experiencing a mom-life crisis) I could do that a whole lot. Like to potentially ridiculous levels.

But how do I know I’m crossing over into mom-life crisis* land? Well, I made a tried and true list o’ analysis.  (Because making a list is SO not a mom thing to do!)


The Glamour

– things I’m doing   or plan on doing

(There is no such thing as denial.)


The Reality

– a.k.a. the rest   of my life


Taking drum lessons out of the blue. The dream: total drum diva! Able to jam phenomenally, at any given moment, in a multitude of genres.


Singing along to the various kids’ shows I am forced to watch ad nauseum. Dancing like a   chicken because it makes my son laugh.


Joining a girl roller derby team under the name You-scora Welts-y. (You know, for Eudora Welty. She’s an author, you heathens!)


Reading Eudora Welty… while hiding from the kid in the bathroom. Notice scummy floor. Ignore it.


Fabulous spa time once a month. (I am SO doing this!)


Washing poop out of underwear. (See floor, root of cause.)



Dressing like a fashionista all the time.


Dressing like a fashionista when I go into the   office. Because they’re not the boss of me! I will HAVE self-expression, damnit! (Oh wait, I don’t have that job anymore… maybe that backfired.)


Traveling to exotic places and culture-rich cities. Being a “woman of the world.”


 Driving to Target, the preschool, Walgreen’s, preschool, the bank, preschool, repeat.


 Dying my hair outrageous colors.


 Dying my hair outrageous colors.


So there’s the evidence.  But I leave it up to you, my readers… am I pushing the mom-life crisis behavior?  (In my defense, at least I’m not walking around in a leather bustier and flirting with high-school boys.)

If any of you feel you’re also in danger of a mom-life crisis, feel free to make your own list… and then let me know the results. Maybe we can form a support group.  (Of drumming, bustier-wearing divas!)

- the weirdgirl


*Other indicators that you may be experiencing a mom-life crisis include being on the receiving end of the following reactions: bug and/or rolling eyes, blank stares, or the expression, “Oh my god, what are you into now?” accompanied with an exasperated tone.

(They’re just jealous.)



Keep at it, Weirdgirl. Nothing is as fun as playing in a band, and it definitely makes you feel younger. When you are playing Tom Petty or the Grateful Dead on stage, its easy to forget that the audience doesn't care, that you aren't 21 anymore, and that the other band members are accountants and computer programmers.


Bah, if all you're doing is dyeing your hair and taking drum lessons, I'd say it's not so much a crisis as a readjustment.

Now, if you take your new hair to a club and use your drumming skillz to try and pick up a young fellow who is currently in a garage band, that could be problematic.

Sarah, Goon Squad Sarah

Drum on my friend! That is no crisis. That is enrichment.

Did I spell that right?


Be a roller derby girl...that's hot.


When I was about your present age, I went thru a mom-crisis as well. So, for 5 years (yes, 5, count 'em)I worked as a karaoke host. I got to go out drinking, smoking, singing with my friends and get paid for it! Then finally it hit me that I was way too old for that kind of life and that it was much more pleasant to be at home instead of fending off drunks.

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