Growing Pains

The other night, while watching my new favorite show Parenthood, I found myself in a conundrum. I no longer related to the rebellious teenagers or to the angst that haunted me well into my twenties. I mean, I get that parents just don’t understand, but I also thought they were acting like little brats. Though I am not a parent myself, I was struck by how much I identified with the adults in the show. Well, this presented me with a terrifying thought – have I, at the ripe old age of 29, finally entered into the realm of adulthood? Say it ain’t so!

It’s odd being in your late twenties. Here I am, staring down the barrel of 30, and yet I don’t feel like an adult. I mean sure, I’m married and pay my own rent. I have a car payment and a professional career. I wear business suits on occasion and flip flops are no longer my go to shoe. I use Quicken to pay our bills and sometimes catch myself discussing new cleaning products that really work with my other “adult” friends. And oh geez, I did catch myself looking just like my mother with curlers in my hair and wearing an apron just this past Christmas season.

I may have switched from drinking Carlo Rossi to a wine that doesn’t produce an instant headache, but I can still throw ‘em back. I might have major responsibilities, but that doesn’t stop me from playing hooky and spending a day at the beach or lounging in my jammies on the couch watching bad reality tv. I sometimes use big words around certain company, but you might also hear me saying “dude” and “sweet” in my daily vernacular. I also might dissolve in a puddle of emotions because I just don’t want to be a grown up and deal with the stress of adult life.

So here I find myself in an interesting (and let’s face it, confusing!) juxtaposition. Knowing me, I will most likely analyze this to death, but for now, the teenager in me is saying screw it. It’s a nice day and I just don’t wanna deal with it. So there.