One day we looked around and our social life suddenly seemed very different. Okay, that day was last Saturday when a lovely friend and Folly reader hosted a summer pool party. We counted: There were 17 children and babies in attendance. There were jokes about how they outnumbered us, and how a different kind of bottle now filled the cooler.
But those changing social dynamics can be hard to calibrate. It’s harder to carry a conversation. You feel like you’re never fully caught up. A party, a festival, a vacation, is certainly not relaxing. That’s where your support system—often dubbed a village—comes in. But those traditional villages are rarer nowadays, and we’ve been forced to adapt. So we are lucky to have so many friends with kids, or supportive friends without kids. And why we so admire the people out there who are building their villages from scratch. Because these 17 kids won’t raise themselves.
The Pros and Cons of Being an “Older” Mom
Those quotation marks are doing a lot of work here.
By Jess Mayhugh
Growing up, I was told my mom had me when she was “older.” That age was 33. Looking back on it now, it feels downright ridiculous. But she did have a baby after a lot of her contemporaries had, and the science then was way less advanced when it came to assessing age-based maternal medical risk. Finally, the research is catching up to the reality, and the idea of a standard parental age is broadening.
This is great news for a lot of reasons—namely that it gives many parents hope as they battle through fertility struggles, try to time out egg freezing, or generally look to plan their futures. While it wasn’t necessarily a path that I chose, having my son 11 days shy of turning 40 has turned out to have some surprising upsides. If I’m being honest, there are some cons, too. But overall, I’m here to tell you, there are a lot of unexpected perks of being a more mature mom.
Pro: There’s a built-in support network. This is huge. Yes, being parents of a certain age, our “village” might look a little different than previous generations, but ours is filled with chosen family. So many of our friends, coworkers, and neighbors have had kids before us and can empathize. It’s really heartening to be able to text “were your night sweats this bad??” and “does your baby also sound like a pterodactyl??” with zero judgment on the other end.
Con: Older family. Some of us find ourselves in the “sandwich generation,” caring for aging parents while we raise our baby. Certainly not for the faint of heart.
Pro: Stability. Of course, all paths of life look different, but for my husband and me, we have more stability, both financially and emotionally, now than we did a decade or so ago. I remember bringing this up in a hair salon and a girl in her 20s shared that her parents had her at an older age and she felt so grateful. She said there was rarely any drama and her family felt secure. That has always stuck with me.
What’s in our glass this summer
Okay, we might be old but we’re not dead. And summertime calls for something crisp and spritzy to fill our cups. Whether you’re drinking alcohol or not, prefer wine to beer, or want to dust off home bar bottles, you deserve a cocktail. Here’s what we’ve been pouring into our glasses this summer. —Lauren Bell Martin and JM
NYT Cooking has been really pushing its Hugo Spritz recipe, and with good reason. We enjoyed this bubbly, limey version with fresh sprigs of mint over the Fourth of July weekend.
Spelling-wise, it’s easy to get Muscat and Muscadet grapes confused, but the latter results in a dry and acidic wine, like Bow & Arrow Melon out of the Willamette Valley. July in a glass.
Not all alcohol-removed wine is created equal, and the N/A Minetto is one of the closest imitations to the real thing that we’ve had.
I love a Negroni in all seasons, and it’s easy to make a warm-weather version by subbing in Lillet Blanc and swapping Campari for electric lemon-lime Suze.
A blend of Chambourcin rosé and Chardonnay, Rosewater by Old Westminster Winery is all wild strawberries and watermelon juice, ideal for sipping while you grill.
We sure as hell aren’t going to Positano any time soon, but a gal can dream with a can of Athletic’s Vita Chiara in one hand and a slice of prosciutto in the other.
Photographer Kerrene Taylor talks about raising a baby without a village
Kerrene Taylor moved across the world knowing a total of three people in her new city. She had originally planned to move from Seattle to Perth with her Australian-born husband for just a year, but visa complications, a global pandemic, and life have turned that into a decade.
In that time, she gave birth to her son, Milo, now 18 months. Raising a baby without a village has been challenging, she says, but she has found Australian culture and its systems around parenthood to be welcoming and refreshing. She discusses all of this and more on her podcast, No Village Club, and below she shares advice for how to build a village from scratch, no matter where in the world you find yourself. —LBM
How has it been adjusting to Australia?
It took a while for the slowness (and the sunniness—I’m from a very rainy city) of Perth to grow on me. I slowly settled in and started to feel that deep sense of ease that everyone raves about in the Australian way of life, but after one year, I got cold feet. We ended up staying in Europe after our wedding and tried the UK instead. That year actually confirmed for me that Australia was where I truly wanted to be. We returned to Perth and started over, only this time together and truly by choice. That new chapter gave me the spark to live life in Australia on my terms. I went for a creative career, and Australian culture caused me to question my values and beliefs in the best possible way.
As for growing a family, I hesitated to have any children because of the thought of being so far away from my side of the family in the U.S. and the lack of multiple generations of family here in Australia. In part, having children felt like too big a commitment, a stamp in the ground saying “I’m here and I’m staying.” But it was also daunting thinking of navigating motherhood without the support of my family and the benefits of those relationships. Naively, I was mostly concerned with whether my child would feel a connection with my family and my culture—something I so want them to carry. So far, the load of motherhood without a village has been the real challenge. The connection to my family has come completely naturally to my son, even over FaceTime.
Did you know a soul in Australia before you moved?
It’s crazy to think that I moved to a new country only truly knowing about three people. And I was fortunate to even have that. As Australian culture is, I was welcomed with open arms. I’ve benefited from the help of so many people along the way, helping me navigate building a new life. I didn't expect to be here for a global pandemic and witness what community means in Australia but I’m so grateful I was. Ten years on, I can say Australia genuinely feels like home. And now I get to share the beautiful life we’ve created with my son.
How was your approach to motherhood different without a village around you?
For one, I like to think of myself as an accidental stay-at-home mum. I’ve added working to that title recently, too. It’s a real juggle without a village. I laugh now at the thought of me confidently waddling through daycare centers whilst heavily pregnant, feeling so certain that our baby would simply slot into our life as it was. He would take a bottle and sleep peacefully in a cot. I would return to work as usual. Happy days.
Once my son was here, I had an unexpected desire to stay home with him for as long as possible. I truly believe that mothering without a village has given me the greatest struggles and the greatest gifts: On one hand, there is rarely anyone around to hold the baby and on the other hand, I have endless time with my baby. I resent it at times and I relish it other times. I’m not sure that I would have spent the first year exclusively breastfeeding, co-sleeping, contact-napping and executing a few eyebrow-raising survival tactics had I had a village around. But I’ll also cherish these moments due to our constraints forever.
I found that I needed to communicate my needs with specificity, ask for help, accept help, and pay for help where able. My formerly independent self struggles with this aspect of motherhood, but it’s what it takes to build a village.
In what ways have you tried to build your village from scratch?
Since I have entered motherhood without a real sense of a village, I have found it best to work backwards. Asking myself questions like: “Where do I feel unsupported at this stage of motherhood?” or “How can I make my experience of motherhood feel fulfilling rather than draining?” The answers to these questions and reflecting on how I’m feeling have helped me to create my own guide to building a village.
I found that I needed to communicate my needs with specificity, ask for help, accept help, and pay for help where able. My formerly independent self struggles with this aspect of motherhood, but it’s what it takes to build a village.
Are there any cultural differences you’ve noticed between how parents are treated in Australia vs. the U.S.?
Most of the differences that I find noteworthy between parenthood in Australia are systemic, such as the differences in medical coverage, parental leave, and return-to-work options for mothers. I do strongly believe that the lack of system support for parents in the U.S. leads to untenable cultural norms. The way you choose to approach breastfeeding or nap schedules or pregnancy in general is shaped so much by the system support that is available to you by your government. And this, in turn, creates a ripple effect of cultural norms.
Even if you don't live abroad, you might have an absent village (older parents, living elsewhere, etc.). What advice do you have to make your village your own without familial support?
There are so many mothers with family down the road who feel equally as isolated as I have being thousands of kilometers away from my family. The joys of modern motherhood! I think it starts with us being in a place of acceptance. Accepting help, accepting the limitations of others. And then making a plan for how we are going to get ourselves to a place where we are more supported. Mothers should accept nothing less than a fulfilling experience. Keep building brick by brick.
The lack of sharing the responsibility of raising a child with other people, beyond your partner, can feel maddening. Deeply. And on the hard days, that sense of isolation is a very unwelcome additional layer of discomfort. Mothers should be taken care of more than we are, but unfortunately, modern Western motherhood does not make it so. The best skill you can continue to refine is being your own advocate.
Women are reclaiming one word through unbridled confidence and quirky fashion.
While I do find this to be an obscene price for a bag, I am truly obsessed with the bandana-printed Bogg bag. It’s basically disaster proof, and has tons of cute accessories and “bits” to make it a very convenient addition to toddler life.
Talking about how the men of Love Island have basically become red pill manosphere influencers. Some call it trash, some call it a deep anthropological study of the human race. And I call it screaming things like “ew,” “gross,” “do better,” and “monster” at my television.
The red panda divas at the Maryland Zoo, Aurora and Ember, prefer their habitat to be fully air-conditioned. Girl, same.
“I was at Warped Tour reliving a past life and my sons texted me that they found a cute kitten. Now we have a cute kitten.” —Folly reader Emily M.
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