Thursday, January 7, 2010

History Lesson

There are moments when I wonder when I will feel like an adult. At 32 years old, I still feel like a 22 year old in so many ways. I thought by 32, I would be wise and knowledgeable. I sometimes have to pinch myself and say, "You drive a minivan. You are a MOM. You have a real job and you have real bills to pay. YOU ARE AN ADULT!" But I don't feel any wiser than I did when I started out on the path of adulthood.

But it's all about perspective, I suppose.

Example 1:
The other day at lunch, one of my coworkers asked how H and I met. My nephew (who is 15) was with us. I wasn't sure if he knew the story (he had an aunt before me), so I gave the quickly glossed over version. I should have just told the whole story to begin with because it all came out. JB, my nephew, was HILARIOUS and thoroughly enjoyed hearing the story of my courtship with H. He learned a little bit about his family history. (H and his father are brothers.)

Example 2:
M is infatuated with stories of when I was a "baby." By baby, she means anything from infant hood through...well, any childhood stories I'll share. Tonight she said, "Tell me a story of when you were a baby."
"What kind of story do you want me to tell you?" I asked.
"How about when you wanted something to drink?" she suggested.
WHAT? I have no stories of requesting a drink as a child.
So I launch into a story about when my dad used to take me to breakfast on Saturday mornings and make up songs.
"What kind of songs did OB sing? What did you eat for breakfast? What did your car seat look like?"
See, I have no answers to these questions and really no more facts than the ones I offered.
She's not satisfied at all.
To complicate the situation even more, she doesn't understand that Uncle Trey and Uncle Zach were little kids, too. So anytime I tell a story about when WE were little, she'll say, "But Uncle Zach is too big for that!"
I find I'm walking a delicate balance. I want M to know about my childhood. I want her to know the truth about my childhood. But I'm so dadgum tempted to fib a little just to satisfy her curiosity!!! She's so detail oriented that a glossy, fun story will not do! She wants to know who was there, where we were, what we did, what we ate, etc.

So, if JB and M think I'm mature and wise and a real adult, then I'd better find a little faith in myself and start believing it. After all, I hold the key to a mighty history lesson for them.


Arizaphale said...

I think I finally started to grow up at 34 so don't worry, you've still got a few years ;-D
I remember telling the BA our family stories in the form of a bedtime fable "Once upon a time there was a little girl called C and one day, just before Christmas in 1961 she set sail with her mummy and daddy, for Australia...." She loved it. Check with your parents for details to fill in the gaps btw :-)

Kyla said...

My mom has been sorting photos lately and I was going through them the other night and showing KayTar (and BubTar) and KayTar got SUCH a kick out of me using "her" things...her big bed used to be mine, my old rocking chair is here, my baby doll highchair, ect. She loved seeing me her size, playing with her things.

BubTar is always asking me about TINY details about childhood, it is hard to explain that eventually you just lose those little memories as you grow up.