Being a Grown Up

I have begun to dislike being a grown up. Well, parts of it anyway. In the past, I have said on more than one occasion that I would not be a teenage girl again for all the money in the world. Now I'm starting to think that being a teenage girl again (but with all the money in the world) might be better than being a woman in her late 30s with a job, a mortgage, and sundry other responsibilities.

My complaints are the usual ones: not enough time, too much stress, bills, responsibilities, crap, messes, crap, voicemails, emails, and some other crap. What I am finding is that my complaining (to myself, to my co-workers, to my spouse, to the lady at the register in the cafeteria) has increased even as the opportunities for peace and joy in my life have increased. Crazy, no? I mean the situation. Not me. I'm sane. Well, sane as I've ever been.

Having our little Bird in our little (Actually, it just looks little from the front, which I love, but it is not truly so little on the inside. In fact, my sister and my niece mocked us loudly for having a room that is devoted to visitors and serves as a changing table for the intermittent downstairs diaper change.) house has made me happier than I have ever been. I have not ever before experienced, nor could I have anticipated, the absolute happiness that having a job that provides the potential for enjoyment and fulfillment, a wonderful husband, a marvelous son, and a comfortable home has brought me.

And then I have to go to work, stress about work, obsess about every symptom that creeps up in the house, feel guilty about about Bird's care, worry about every one's health, and beat myself up for not creating a home and home life that would be an unrealistic goal even for someone who stayed at home and had a paid support staff. Smart, yes? And oh so healthy too.

Sure, there are some upsides to being a grown up that I enjoy. When mulling over whether we should do something indulgent (like spend lots of money at the magazine store), Dave usually wraps up the debate with the sage observation, "Why not? We're free, white, and 21." And there is something to that. I am blessed with freedom in many areas of life.

This makes me think of a story that my youngest sister told me once about grocery shopping. She was a college graduate living on her own, shopping for herself, queen of her own domain. As she headed towards the checkout she passed the pop tarts and, naturally, wished she could have some. Those rare moments in our childhood that included pop tarts were truly magical -- and truly rare. Suddenly, it hit her -- she was queen of her own domain! She could buy those pop tarts if she wanted! In any flavor she wanted! And she didn't have to share the pop tarts that come sealed in the same envelope! This is the kind of freedom I am talking about.

Though I am lucky enough to have a lot of freedom in my life, I have to deal with the usual grown-up responsibilities and some new grown-up things that are required of me now that I live with a little person who will eventually learn to call me mama. (He will, right?) It is, perhaps, because of the little person in my life that some of these grown-up things weigh on me more heavily, but I can't blame him entirely.

I just wish I could let some of it go now and then. Or that some of it would let me go now and then. My grown-up responsibilities have distracted me to such a degree these last few months that I have not had the time to even complete this blog post. I started writing this on August 1 (as shown in the date), but completed and published it on November 1...