Once, when I was twelve or thirteen, I asked my mom how old she felt. I'm sure when I asked her this, it was the equivalent of that time I said "Hey Mom, why is there grass under your arms?" What kind of child asks their mom how old they feel? And what kind of child points out (short) armpit hair?
The kind of child I was and am, since I just wrote that memory down.
Anyway, she told me she still felt like she did when she was nineteen or twenty. Then she told me that your body gets older and you become a grown up, but that you still feel the same. I didn't really believe her.
But Mom, all I have to say to that now is, "Amen."
Andrew and I are in that really weird age group where we're still young but we're parents and responsible for a small human being who rules our entire world. Sometimes this makes me feel really old, especially when I leave the house and realize that I'm covered in baby barf or baby boogers, proclaiming my motherhood to the world.
But most of the time, I still feel like I did when I was nineteen or twenty. I have the same interests I've always had and I still have the same dreams I've had since elementary school. It may be taking me a long time to graduate and my alone time may come with a screaming child in the background and a never-ending to-do list, but my life is usually really fun and extremely happy.
And for that, I am grateful... and extremely lucky.