Recently I was talking to my niece, who is in her late twenties, the mother of two boys, and is working on her Bachelor’s degree. I was telling her how nicely I thought she had turned out, and that not that many years ago she really had me worried.
I’m so proud of the woman she has become. When I asked her what had triggered such a profound turnaround, she said, “I don’t know when it happened. One day I just woke up and it was like, ‘Crap, I’m an adult.’”
I’ve had those moments. I still have them. I’m kind of having one right now. I’m about to make a major change in my life, and although I want it really badly, it’s not going at all smoothly.
I want to throw a tantrum. I want to get fetal and suck my thumb. I want to hit someone with my pail, take my marbles and go home.
Most of all, I want someone to help me. I want someone to fix this. Several people have stepped up and done what they could, still others have given some really good advice, but as far as a source for a total resolution, I’m it. That is not inspiring confidence. Sometimes I feel like a little kid playing dress up.
Now is the time for me to look in the mirror and say, “Are you a man or a mouse?” My response would probably be tart and barbed, because I’m neither of those things. So I guess I’ll just have to make the best of it. That’s what adults do.
[Image credit: crazyaboutmybaybah.com]
The View from a Drawbridge 