Eating at the grownup table

Being a grownup is a funny thing. Because I can't really pinpoint when it happened. I think back to a few years ago when I was president of a board and in the middle of a production thinking who's in charge here? WHERE ARE THE ADULTS? Then, shockingly.... I'm in charge. I'm the adult.

Ever since I split up from the Ex Mr. Smith, I go through this ritual once a month. I get my pay check and I set out all the bills, and I very nervously start paying them, one by one. And every month, when I pay my bills and there's enough money to pay them - and sometimes for heaven's sake a little left over! - I am surprised at how relieved I feel. I'm a grownup for Pete's sake. I'm a grown-ass woman with a J-O-B. Why does this surprise me?

The other day I was invited to, and attended a party. And while I was there a friend of my parents' came up to me and asked in a very kind but very surprised tone what I was doing there. No one was more surprised than me when I told her that I'd been invited - and it hit me like a bolt of lightening. I'm eating at the grownup table now. When did this happen?

I joke about this often when someone relays an anecdote about something my father has done or said about me - I respond to the tale very seriously with "He doesn't know I'm a grownup yet. Please don't be the one to tell him." But now I feel like someone hasn't let me in on the secret - when did I get put in charge? Did I agree to do this? I listen to NPR. I read the news. I vote. I eat healthy and I exercise. All grownup things to do.... but I'm not sure how I feel about being a grownup.

Until I figure this out, I'm going to need to find some immature activities to romp around in. This outta help.

Beer pong, anyone? Over and out.