Feeling My Age

I am the youngest person in my office by a good couple of years.  This keeps me feeling pretty young.  Andrew and I are on the younger side of the parental crowd at the day care center, not so much so that we feel out of place but we feel just right.  But there are times that I truly feel my age.  (Which is sadly very close to 35 these days.  Really.  Really. Close.)

The other day while feeding Lucy at day care one of her day care teachers was talking about her upcoming birthday.  She was turning 25 and she was talking as if her life was over.  All the things she hadn’t done before turning 25.  How it was a quarter century.  She hadn’t even been to Europe.  Needless to say, I felt pretty old in that moment.

Other times that have made me feel old lately include, in no particular order:

– my inability to follow what the hell is happening on True Blood (I blame the introduction of fairies)

– the new Kanye album (I’ve tried, I am officially too old to enjoy it)

– my reaction to the “semi-formal” clothes the kids wear these days

– staying up past 9pm on a Friday night seems pretty ridiculous.

– the fact that my cat – who I adopted in law school – will be 12 on Friday.  A pre-teen.  (And a moody one at that.)

I know I’m not that old. But I’m not that young either.  And I’ve only been to Europe once. . .


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