Maybe it’s me, but . . . .
When did I get old enough to have a mortgage? The most expensive thing I’ve ever bought was a pair of Doc Martins. Right? Wait, there’s the car, the health insurance, the car seats, the furniture. It seems like a dream.
When did I get old enough to be married? Even on good days, I wonder why on earth would someone say he wanted to be with me for life and me with him. Sure, I was in love before, but this is so adult and complete. Obviously we were crazy.
When did I get old enough to have kids? Granted, I could have had them in my teens, biologically speaking, but still. I’m trusted with the care of two young children. Two sweet, innocent, fragile children that drive me up the wall half the time.
In fact, when did they both start turning into little boys? It feels like yesterday they were just babies. Tornado E will be in kindergarten next year, and Tornado S is asking to go to school, talking in clear sentences, and picking out his clothes.
At this rate, they’ll be in college before I know it. When did I get that old? Someone had me a paper bag, please.