These days, I've been thinking a lot about growing up. Since I haven't officially given myself license to do so, I've been having some serious conflict with myself. One side of me gets tattoos without a care in the world because I'm 37 and don't need to answer to anyone. The other side of me is afraid to tell my parents about them.
But I'm sitting here at 1 AM - sick as a dog with some stupid virus or something- feeling like I'm 87. Old words like salve and ointment and hot water bottle are flowing through my head making me think I need them all right now. This is the first time I've felt old in years. But still, I want my mommy.
My thirties are so peculiar. When I was a kid, people who were 37 were ancient old. They were our parents' age. They were NOT cool. They had grey hair and drank white wine spritzers. But now I'm 37 and I feel pretty darn young. It's a strange feeling. I sometimes just stare at my kids in awe, wondering how it's possible they are mine since I'm only 12 at heart. I still like to climb trees and ride bikes.
Hey. No matter what your age, you're only as old as you feel.
I've come to a conclusion: I'm not old and I never will be. I might not be as spry as I once was, but I'll certainly try to be for as long as this body will let me. I have come up with an exact description of how I feel. All of us thirty-somethings who still rock out in the car with the music blasting and windows open and still can't believe we have driver's licenses , we are the Youth Gone Mild.