So Are the Days of Our Lives...

I was wishing a good friend a happy 30th birthday a week or so ago.

I'm an awesome happy birthday wisher. I was lamenting our increasing age, and how my perceptions are changing. The Cat Daddy and I think all the newscasters in our city are about 19, straight out of high school, and I've seen so many really, really young-looking moms over the past week or so that I was thinking, "Holy smokes, is teen pregnancy really that big of a problem here in Cheyenne?" But no, every one of these moms had a wedding ring on. They were probably early-20's at the youngest. Heck, the way I'm guessing these days they could've been my age and I wouldn't know the difference.

So the "problem" is that I'm getting older. When did this start to happen? The Cat Daddy and I realized we were heading in that direction a year or so ago, when it dawned on us that we were no longer part of the "target demographic" (young, hip 20-somethings) of the type of churches we gravitate toward. Since we still gravitate toward them it gives us hope that we're not total sticks in the mud...but it is still a little unnerving to see ourselves fading toward the "older" crowd.

The change in visual perception, however, has been sudden and startling to me. Seriously, I didn't notice it until we got to Cheyenne. This along with the memories of growing up, and remembering when my parents were the ages we are right now, and thinking "Oh my goodness, we are there. We are them." Am I headed for the PTA, destined to become a "room mother" at the elementary school? Do I need to accumulate some nifty large Tupperware containers (via nifty large Tupperware parties, of course) for toting yearly rounds of classroom cupcakes with tiny sugary shapes sprinkled on top? Do I have to take a hiaitus on burping at the table, and making occasional inappropriate comments? Or, worse, do I have to discourage my kids from doing the same? **shudder**

I would just like to say that there are lots of things I will consent to, for now I understand better the plight of the parent. I do enjoy the baking, so I'll make cupcakes. I will tone down the cussing around children, especially those who are not my own. I will watch Sprout when I'd rather watch something grownup, and eat at McDonalds if for no other reason than the playland. I will continue to burst into Raffi songs at random times.

...and his name was Aikendrum...

I will draw the line, however. The mom-mobile I have is the one I'm sticking with. No minivan, even if you can haul all sorts of equipment & stuff in them. I will consciously fight against becoming a total stick in the mud, and/or saying things like "This is what you call entertainment/music? I can't even understand the words," but I will still keep enjoying my favorite music from back when everyone was on drugs all the time...which was really even before my time but my dad always listened to it so I picked up on his tastes. The 60's & 70's were good years for music, you know...