I’m turning 29 in a weekish. Like, the real 29. Not the whole, “I’m gonna be 29 forever!” that some twats always say. I have a career, two kids, a husband, a house, a car. When did I grow up? Did I grow up?
Last night I made chicken fried steak and tater tots for dinner. Dessert was cookies and cream. I havent had cookies and cream since I was a teenager. It was one of my dad’s favorite flavors. When we had finished dinner the Monkey looked at me and asked if I would make it again. 🙂
I see my kids growing up. The JellyBean is asking questions, watching movies. Sometime this week they’ll both be getting a bunk bed for their room because the crib is now a jungle gym of potential pain. The Monkey plays outside with other neighborhood kids and asks about them when she hasn’t seen them in a few days.
My husband and I will be refinancing our house soon. We’re a few months away from 20% equity in the house. And I totally just wrote that with a straight face. We’re slowly replacing all of our Ikea goods with quality Pottery Barn digs.
I like my job. I am in charge of a database, and assign work to 4 other people. I am the chairperson for a new interagency information sharing tool. I have a contractor who works for me.
When did I grow up?
Have I grown up?
The other day a commercial for Tiny Toon Adventures came on. They’ve brought it to the Hub, a children’s TV channel. I literally shrieked in delight and proceeded to inform everyone who follows me on facebook. When I get home, or on weekends, I change into ripped jeans and one of my many faded tshirts. I still find most of my “work wardrobe” annoying and constricting. This superficiality is a holdover of the way “our parents did it”. The only problem with this is that our parents are still here. I know mine still are.
A few months ago I met my dad at State Department. It was weird driving there, walking there, entering on my own accord with my own ID and being able to walk unescorted through the halls. We had lunch where I used to, as a little kid, wait for my folks to get out of whatever meeting they had to sit through. The walls were the same. The floors the same shiny marble they’ve probably always been. The clock on the wall… hasn’t changed.
Am I grown up?
If I am, why am I still waiting for that “grown up” consciousness to take over the job. I’m still here. What is there to say?