I often find myself wondering how in the world I got here.
I mean, technically speaking, I know how I got here. I know how they got here. I learned about that in Fourth Grade from Mrs. Abbott. And from that awkward talk with my parents where they read me the aptly titled book, “Period.” Shudder.
What I’m trying to say is, I still find it hard to believe that I am a parent. To three kids. That there are tiny humans on this planet who count on me for love and care and food and clothing and…other stuff. That I’m legally responsible for their health and well-being, and morally responsible for their proper upbringing.
As I was carrying the baby back to bed last night, after he woken up crying and needed a snuggle, I was kissing his cheek before I put him back in his crib and it hit me. Again.
I’m not 16! I’m not even a carefree college student anymore! I am an adult and a wife and I have mortgages and CHILDREN!
When the heck did THAT happen?!
It is just so bizarre to me that here I am, a 30-something year old woman with kids.
Do you feel this way sometimes, too?