Stick a fork in me; I'm done

For the record: the wedding kiss does not count as PDA, but I like this bold new AnnaRay: very sexy. I feel different too. though not so much braver as older. I used to think having a kid would make me feel my age, (34 at the time. Maybe 35. I lose track,) but when I was out and about with The Boy, I often wondered if people might think me too young to have a kid. I certainly felt that way - like I was play-acting this whole parenting thing. So it came as a real shocker to realize not long after we moved that I finally feel like a grown-up. At first I though home ownership jolted me into adulthood, but now I think it's my new pants.

Somehow, after a lifetime of obsessing over my weight, then having a kid, nursing him for a year, weaning him while still eating as if his life depended on it, I find myself at my high school dress size. In high school, of course, I thought I was fat, but I'm a lot smarter now, so I get to enjoy it. I bought myself a new pair of pants - lovely, grey, low-riding slacks - and they look gooood. Definately the clothes of an adult.

How interesting that I started dressing better after quitting the work scene. Maybe it's the need to distinguish day time from pajama time, now that my life is a blur of primary colored plastic and child-safe activities. Though now that I think of it, maybe it's the stay-at-home mom thing that's making me feel like an adult. I'm not play-acting anymore; I'm actually saying things like: "but you like broccoli" and "can you say thank you to the nice lady?" (If you EVER hear me utter "use your words,"use your words" please shoot me in the head.) There's something so familiar in all my mannerisms when I interact with The Boy. It's the echo of a million housewife moms I watched on t.v. as a kid. No wonder I'm feeling aged. When I was 8, I figured those moms had to be, like, 30, which was about as close to death as you could get with your heart still pumping.

But wait a minute - it's not a stereotype I'm thinking of... Good grief! I've become my own mother! Those are her mannerisms I recognize and her voice I hear when I'm with the boy. Oh, the irony of turning into exactly what you promised yourself you would never become. Not that there's anything wrong with my mother. My mother rocks. I just always saw myself as completely different. Of course, my mother was a lot younger than I am now when she was in my position, yet now that I'm in her shoes, I feel so much older.