I mean, I know I'm an adult.
I just turned 38 years old. So, yeah. I'm TOTALLY an adult.
But I think in my head...I still feel pretty much like this:
Regardless, I live the life of an adult. I am raising two kids. I hold down a full-time job quite successfully. I am a homeowner. Complete grown-up.
Well...I mean...I'm a homeowner, but every time I say that phrase, I repeat "homeowner" like three times and then it makes me laugh uproariously. I really like hula hoops. And coloring books. Cookies with frosting on them. And I sometimes am way too loud. And I still think butt jokes are funny. Poop jokes too, frankly.
But! Moving on... I live my life like that, doing grown-up things like paying the mortgage and meeting with my supervisor and writing grant reports and tucking my kids into bed.... The other night I was engaged in the adult activity of going out for dinner with girlfriends to talk about our husbands and kids and jobs (i.e. our adult lives) and I saw a family waiting before us for a table.
It was a woman and man and three kids. And I saw them doing mom and dad things with their kids and talking to each other and it hit me. These people are adults. And they are MY age. And I looked around the restaurant, which was filled with adults...who were also my age. And the people with whom I collaborate at work and the people who I talk to at the insurance company and even my doctor and therapist...many of them are MY age.
I remember being ten. You know? And looking at adults as though they were an entirely different species from me. But here I am, part of that species. And I have a kid who's almost TEN.
Anyway, it just hit me at that moment that I. I! Alie Kriofske. I'm a grown-up.
I. am. an. adult.
and that is just completely weird.