when I grow up.

little girl Carrie would have told you that she wanted to be a lawyer or an artist or a scientist when she grew up. She would have imagined a house with lots of rooms, pretty (but not fancy) things, a handsome husband, kitty cats, kiddos and a fruit bowl on the table. She would have told me I'd have lots of nice friends, that I'd go to church and that I would think bagels, fried chicken w/ mashed potatoes and corn and pumpkin pie were there best foods ever. And she would have told you that you should be nice to the world, nice to each other and that nothing was better than beating someone at Scrabble.

I suppose, to seven year old-ish me, I am all of those things. Not yet a mother (y'all know bring pregnant in Italy is soooooo off the table), but to her, I think I am, as my neighbor would say, "livin' the dream."

And it's funny because, well, I think I am. I was talking to my Granny last night (you know this can either be amazing or a total disaster ending in tears and super-analyzing a conversation, yes) and we ended up talking about money. About not spending $250/night on a hotel room in Italy because it was foolish, and because I'm not taking the kind of vacation where you spend money like that. We talked a little about how wealth is all in your mindset--Matt and I have plenty. We pay the bills every month, we have some savings, we indulge and scrimp depending on the time, and we though sometimes we fail at this, we try not to complain about our lot in life. Because, well, we've got it good.

But it also got me thinking about how little Carrie would be blown away by my paycheck today, and how I should remember to be thankful even when I'm not feeling so thankful. When my stepdad was the breadwinner for six people, he made less money per year, after having worked for decades, than I got at my first job out of college. And although I vividly remember crying hysterically when my mom couldn't buy the beautiful box set of prang art supplies, and I often loaned my parents my babysitting savings the three or four days before his next paycheck came in, I never felt like I was lacking. We always had the air conditioning on somewhere in the house (usually in the living room only), and we didn't have central heat until I was in high school, but some days I secretly hope our next house has floor vents, only so I can stand over them to warm up.

Anyway, this all brings me to the title of the post...because I don't feel like a grown up. I mean, yeah, I pay for my financial obligations and dental work and clothe and feed myself and all--but I don't feel like a grown up. I look at other people who are in their early/mid thirties and some of them I totally regard as a grown up, and some of them I don't. And I can't quite put my finger on it--I mean, mom jeans are totally a tell--but barring that, what makes one 30 year-old a grown up and the other not?

Maybe one day I'll wake up and feel like a grown up. Maybe I need a yard or a baby or a promotion or to not be in a workstation. Maybe it's something else. Maybe I'll never feel like a grown up (and in a way, how wonderful might that be?). I'll keep you posted. :)

Anyone else feel this way? Or have they had the moment that made them realize they were a grown up? And I'm not talking about too loud of music or whatever--that's just getting older, ha!