We are all growing up.
Westley came home from school on Monday with a report card. It came in a somewhat official-looking envelope, with an official-looking letter attached to it. This is also his first week of "real" Aikido classes, where they do the same warm-ups the adults do, and train in pairs, and sit in a line (instead of holding hands in a circle). My little kid is a big kid.
Ivy has more words than I even realized. "Can I have that?" used to be "Dat-dat?" Yesterday she was sitting at the table, coloring with markers, and when she couldn't reach the thing she wanted, it was "I ha' dat?" (She was back to "dat-dat" by evening, but still.) "Boo" is still "spoon/boots/poop/book," but now it's also "boost," as in "I need a boost, so I can sit in a real chair and not a highchair because I'm a big kid now ha ha ha!"
Rob and I have successfully refinanced our house, and we're scrambling to pay for the new roof that went on it last week. The refinance was contingent upon the old roof being OK, and when it was so not OK, we had to replace it. This meant wiping out our savings and our financial safety net. Which is a million times scarier to me than having a baby ever was.
As I wait for all the payments to go through so I can start reworking our budget from scratch, I remind myself we're doing with our "rainy day" funds what we're supposed to do: we're keeping the rain off us (literally, this time). This all makes good financial sense in the long run, and we're in it for the long run.
But part of me is still screaming, "I can't! I don't want to! It's too scary!"
All I ever wanted when I was a child was to be a grown-up. And now that I'm firmly planted in adulthood, I'm extremely ambivalent about it.
My birthday was a few weeks ago (we celebrated without a lot of fanfare because we were busy navigating this whole refinance/new roof situation), and since then growing up has seemed like a faces/vase painting. Sometimes survey my settled home life, my changing passions, the lines in my face that hang on after a smile, and think, "Well, I am 31..." Other times, I feel like things are just getting started.
Westley is so grown-up, getting (excellent!) report cards, joining the ranks of the big kids, but still little enough to need help putting his socks on so they're not ridiculously crooked. Ivy is getting all the molars, but still only has six teeth in her mouth. Our savings are non-existent, but only for a little while. I'm glad to be here most of the time, but still pretty freaked out by it all. I'm only 31.