My mom is 53 years old and doesn’t look a day over 40. For those of us still in our 20’s, and even in our 30’s, this may not seem such a spectacular feat. But to look 40 naturally, in an age where Botox and Nip-this-Tuck-that is at the forefront of everyone’s jaw line, my mother takes the (low calorie/margarine-not-butter) cake. She might not eat the cake, and maybe that’s why she looks the way she does, compiled with years of exercise and great skin care cleansers. The point is, she is on other side of 50, and I have heard from many women that once you have crossed over, you seem to let things go. You may not argue with people the same way you did; it’s not that you don’t care about the issue at hand, it’s just that you’ve been around long enough to know that people don’t change, and very rarely do their opinions. Women over the age of 50 also seem to really come into their own. They don’t mind if, while wearing a sleeveless shirt, their arms don’t so much resemble Madonna’s. They worry more that maybe Madonna just needs to consume a burger and fries once in a while, instead of picking at her daughter’s organic zucchini. Not that there’s anything wrong with organic; I buy it just as much as the next person, IF it’s on sale. Hey, it’s tough out there.  

            Women over 50 seem to take things more in stride, less in strife. They let go, they learn to live. They learn to accept themselves, forgive others, and love their flaws and faults. Because my mom is 53, not 49, or even just flat out 50, I was relieved that she had 3 years on her back to prepare for the unexpected.

She wasn’t prepared for my 1^st divorce (guys, please, I was married for 6 months; in Hollywood, that’s called a stint), as she was 47 years old. It hit her hard, and I remember my dad telling me it was breaking her heart to see me going through this at the ripe age of 20.

            Way to go Hayley!

            When I told her Jason and I were on the brink, she seemed more concerned for our kids, and the precedent I was setting: “You’re 27 years old, with 2 failed marriages, what is wrong with you?” I even got the impression that her mind was reeling with thoughts of, “What will I tell people? What kind of daughter did I raise?” At one point she even said to me, “What kind of an example are you setting for your girls? One that says their mother can’t keep a marriage together?” I was prepared for all of this, and was even prepared for the requisite silent-treatment I felt was dished, or thrown, at me for a few months.

            Now that the dust has settled, and I have been pardoned from exile, my mom and I have regained our mother-daughter friendship and I feel like she has discovered things about me, and about the way I am able to love people.

And I love someone. I have fallen in love with my daughters more in the past 6 months because of this person. I have realized that playing Wii, while eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches is a perfectly acceptable and sensible version of “dinner and entertainment” on a Wednesday night. How my and this MAN’s life have changed. I couldn’t wait until my mom got to witness her daughter, more care-free than ever, and smiling again, even if it was a Sunday night at 8:30 and the kids still weren’t in bed. With this MAN, I became relaxed, started to appreciate the little things, while also learning that the smallest of things didn’t matter.

When my mom met him, I hoped she saw why I fought so hard against the grain. I have always done things the hardest way possible, and have defended my reasoning, even if I knew I had kicked both of my own legs out from underneath me and was having to borrow someone else’s. Luckily for me, this MAN has never been one to walk the line either; we could both have a seat and lean on each other.

I wholeheartedly am convinced that, due to my mom’s 3^rd year in her 50’s, I was able to make her see things in a more civilized manner than I would have been able to had she been 47 again.

Which brings me to the oh-so-big-surprise that my mom had to endure just a few months ago, and I am happy to say that this time, it had nothing to do with me and my inability to hold down a marriage. Rather, it put her in a position to imagine a daughter who may never BE able to marry, let alone marry successfully. One daughter who, until now, couldn’t stay in love with one man; another who tried to love just one, but couldn’t stay because she was sacrificing herself.

My sister is gay.

She told my dad first, and it wasn’t a complete shock to him. It wasn’t a complete shock to anyone, really, but my dad comes from a family that has their fair share of shocking admissions. At last year’s thanksgiving, our “everybody-gather-round-for-our-redneck-prayer-session-before-we-eat” was missing a cousin who, at the sight of more than 4 people in the room, snuck off to smoke the last of his high quality marijuana before having any kind of encounter with Jesus at the dinner table. Upon hearing of my sister’s coming out, my dad’s oldest brother, confessed that he too, might be a lesbian because of his affliction towards women, as well.

Needless to say, my dad’s side of the family are accepting, loving people; even more so when beer is involved. Hunting and airboat rides are also a plus.

My mom found out through a text message. Maybe my sister felt this was the path of least resistance, and really, once you send a text it lands somewhere in the face of the receiver. It isn’t like a phone call, where you can dodge and roll your way through and around the subject, until you realize that maybe today is just not the day to come out with it. No pun intended. Whatever my sister’s reasons were for texting this information to my mom, she did not handle it as well as my dad did. And I don’t think being on the wrong or right side of 50 would have helped.

I think my mom had a plan for my sister and me. She had hopes and dreams, and we have so deviated from these wishes that now she is taking it personally. I don’t think my mother’s reactions to my 2 divorces and my sister’s being gay are selfish; I think as a mother myself, they are justified in the name of fear. My mom is scared for us. She is scared that I don’t know what I am doing with my life. She looks at the way my daughters look at her daughter, and she wonders why I can’t settle down.

I have wanted nothing else in life than to settle down. But I will not settle.

She looks at my sister, who just a few months ago, was engaged to her future son-in-law. She is scared that now Meg will never be able to have any semblance of a normal life; the type of normal my mom has envisioned using the pieces of the very own puzzle she created. What she isn’t seeing is that my sister and I have broken the mold, using the strengths and asserting an independence that has been embedded in us BECAUSE of our mother. My sister and I are learning more and more everyday about ourselves and about each other, and her “coming out” is really just her coming into her own. My sister is lucky enough to have found herself at 25, half the time it takes most women. My sister and I have spoken more in the past 2 months than we have this whole year. We are actually-and finally- what my parents always wanted us to be.

We are friends, by choice. We may not be college graduates (yet!), or successful career women (in time). We may not be married off to men whose only flaw is their love for NFL football 16 weeks out of the year (add in the playoffs, topped with the Superbowl, says MAN). We might have found what makes us smile, even if it happened in the most off-schedule and unconventional way. We are without a plan. But we plan to never be without.

My sister is happy.

I am elated.

(My mom will be 54 in 2010, and I know that whatever my sister and I go through, she will have one more year under her (size 6) belt, and be that much stronger. Or maybe the more comfortable she gets as she nears her mid-50’s, she will just loosen up her belt to make room for even more concessions. If it makes her feel better, she can even chalk it up to life’s bullshit.)