I just read the article. Summary: A fairly well-off (thanks to her husband's company) stay at home mom bemoans the road not taken - the childfree road - and complains that raising children screwed her out of what could have/should have been more enjoyable way to spend 20 years of her life.
She became pregnant for the first time at 34, so hardly a dewy-eyed teen, and went on to have three more children over the subsequent four years.
"I find myself daydreaming about what kind of life I could have created for myself if I had never had children. Would I have soared to great career heights? Perhaps written a novel? Or left my husband for someone more exciting?"
(Spare me... you were working as a hair stylist, living in an "all-girls flat that was party central," when you met and marred a man of means who took you on exotic vacations. Hardly the likely glide path for reaching great career heights or novel writing.)
What she mostly expresses regret over is missing out on a lot of prime partying years, and imagines that now, at 55 and nearly empty-nested, she'll resume her twentysomething ways and carefree life.
Yeah, good luck with that, sweetheart.
My take - her problem is a lot less about having had children and more about her resentment over being forced into the world of adulting. My friends and I, some with children, some who remained childfree, stopped the "party-central" life well before age 34 because other options were more appealing.
She's setting herself up to have an affair, get a divorce, or both. Some random guy will flatter her with compliments about how youthful she is, and she'll drink it in like it's nectar from the gods.
Her desire for a second adolescence during this midlife crisis may cost her more than she can imagine. I've seen it happen more than once.