Growing Up

Haha. Yes, I do see you snickering to yourself. What does she know about growing up? She's what, 16? And not the tallest girl in the room either.

Actually, that's saying a lot since no one else is in the room. *groaner* Moving on.

This year I've been thinking quite a lot about the future, but this week I've been repeatedly reminded of the past. My past, which obviously includes some interesting stories.

A few weeks ago after Mass I got to chatting with a young mom and, since we hadn't talked in a while she used the old fall back conversation. You know the one. "I remember when you were yea high..." and the like. At the time all I could think about was how mortally embarrassing the whole situation was, but now I'm able to appreciate it for what it was, a disturbingly accurate story foreshadowing my (then) future.

"You were this small, little thing," then, catching herself, "You must have been three." Unfortunately, the height which she had motioned would have also been my 4 year old height, 5 year old height, and probably 6 year old height. But I digress. "We were in Bakersfield for someone's first Communion and afterward we went to your aunt and uncles house (you remember them?) for the reception. You were in some pink frilly dress and you were feeling very girly. You came outside where there were a bunch of little boys rough housing and, well, being boys. Out you come, and from across the yard I hear your distressed voice, "Kids. Kids! Stop that! Someone might get hurt!"

o_O

Then yesterday I was thinking about past birthdays and came across this spare memory.

It was probably my 6th or 7th birthday and for a present my grandma invited me for a sleepover. Now I realize that that was my parents' scheme for getting us kids out of the house for a big surprise, but then I was blissfully ignorant. After breakfast my grandma apologized about not wrapping my present, and pulled out a bicycle horn. It was pink and made the most obnoxious noise and I loved it. I thought it was the beez kneez. I am ashamed to admit, though, that when, later that day, I received a pink bike from my parents I was absolutely surprised and thrilled. Like, I had NO idea that I'd get a bike.

I still do that, to some extent. I won't look at Christmas or birthday presents because I might inadvertently guess what's inside. I love expecting things too much that if I'm wrong I'm disappointed in whatever I get, so I just ignore all clues until it's time to open the present. And there is yet another profound insight into my soul. Peach out.