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"My neighbor didn&amp;#039;t believe me. &amp;quot;She&amp;#039;s 42?&amp;quot; she asked, incredulously. Yes, my sister-in-law is 42, even though she doesn&amp;#039;t look much different than when she was 32. &amp;quot;Well,&amp;quot; my neighbor said as we headed home from the school bus stop. &amp;quot;Women without children don&amp;#039;t age like we do.&amp;quot; I laughed \u2013 and then tripped over a beach bucket my kids had dumped near the hedges.  She&amp;#039;s right. And so, perhaps, is my father, who&amp;#039;s always telling me that my children are trying to push me off the face of the earth. The evidence is in the lines around my eyes and the way I wake up in the middle of the night in a panic, wondering, Did I remember to sign Chris up for basketball before the deadline? Certainly when my kids were little, I aged in dog years. All that colic, sleep deprivation, potty training and temper tantrums in the middle of Story Time at the library while the other mommies give you the evil eye is enough to turn your hair gray. And surely my kids&amp;#039; light-up sneaker years aged me a few decades. But even now that I don&amp;#039;t have to hoist them onto diaper changing tables or chase after them before they hit the lake, face-first, my kids, indeed, age me. It&amp;#039;s just more subtle than it used to be, but each episode adds up:  Child traipses mud across the new kitchen floor: 5 days. Child loses personalized lunchbox, a gift from Grandma: 2 weeks. Child complains that brother is &amp;quot;coughing, and so I can&amp;#039;t do my homework&amp;quot;: 1 month. Child required mid-day trip to pediatrician, who declares, &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s just a virus&amp;quot;: 6 weeks. Child&amp;#039;s virus keeps him \u2013 and me \u2013 up all night: 2 months. Child breaks his glasses (again): 3 months Child gets on school bus, even though I told him I was picking him up at school, leaving me to frantically chase down the school bus before piano lessons*: 4 months  Actual time: 10 hours, 35 minutes. Mom time: 12 months, 5 days. And that was just for November. We all know that the holiday season accelerates Mom Years exponentially. By New Year&amp;#039;s, I&amp;#039;ll be another two-and-a-half years older. And I&amp;#039;ll look it, too.  When my birthday arrives next month, my neighbor will probably think, &amp;quot;She&amp;#039;s only 41?&amp;quot; I may be younger than my sister-in-law, but thanks to my kids, I look and feel older. But hey, in Mom Years, I look fantastic for my age. *See &amp;quot;The Parenting Gods&amp;quot; for the harrowing details. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/parenting/a2175/good-grief-120507/>