As I climbed out of bed last night to head to the bathroom for one of my many pee breaks, I caught a glimpse of my very pregnant self in the mirror. This is going to sound kind of stupid, but in that moment, it hit me that I’m an adult. A real, full-blown grown up.
My husband was at work and I was home alone with my three-year-old asleep in the room next door. I’m expecting another baby any day now. I have a house. I’m a mom. I’m old!
I mean, obviously, I knew I was an adult before that moment. But for some reason, something about seeing myself in the mirror threw me off. It took me a moment to regroup.
Thinking about it today, it kind of makes me laugh. I’m 35-years-old (will be 36 in a couple of weeks!) and I know that isn’t terribly old, but sometimes I wonder where all the years went. At times, I feel like a teenage girl inside. If my husband could tolerate it, I would pull out my old fuchsia and purple bedding for our room (my only regret when we moved in together was giving up my hot pink room!). I have a bunch of episodes of vampire-centric tv shows saved up on my PVR. I can’t wait for the super-slushy snow to melt so I can pull out my new purple Uggs.
So when did I suddenly get so old? It feels like it wasn’t all that long ago that I first left home for university and had to figure out how to take care of myself. Now, I’m responsible for raising a family. Crazy.
I guess the fact that I’m about to become a mother of two has made me realize how quickly time goes by.