So today I bumped into an old boyfriend in the post office, as you do (this never happens).
It was really sweet seeing him again, especially as the last time we met up was about 17 whole years ago-and now we’re 35 and 36 respectively.
We laughed at how mad that concept actually was-that the last time we hung out we were carefree teens, and now I have 2 kids, he is due a baby in January.
It got me thinking, am I really an adult already?
I mean I get it, I’m just 35, I’m pretty responsible on paper, I have a steady job (my dream job as a blogger in fact), I have a small team, and it’s (thankfully) the most fun job in the world and a thriving business-and I take care of my kids, pay the bills with my husband, maintain a happy home-yet truly, I’m not that different to the 17 year old I once was.
I was just pretending to have the dream job in those days at Sixth Form before heading off to uni, hustling to get on guest lists at clubs I’m now invited to but can hardly make, auditioning to present for MTV (OK that was 19) but now I get to present sometimes on actual national TV…Modelling in my college sixth form when now I’m paid to model brands.
Just shows what hard work and self-belief can bring I suppose-
Oh and admittedly, the brow game has been seriously upped, the Rimmel brown thick lipliner that was actually an eyeliner (remember those girls?!) and concealer on my lips- was (thankfully) trashed long ago and in its place a slick liquid liner flick and ruby lips-
But other than that- I’m not sure how much I’ve grown up.
I still dream BIG-like crazily big, the world’s my oyster, no limits big, you know how kids do, without too much fear and great hope-the line ‘to hope first before fear’ in Gary Barlow’s The Girls recently rung true to my ears.
I haven’t lost the passion for the written word, for filmmaking, for the arts as a whole- the excitement for life, and all in all, I reckon I’m a pretty FUN MUM to boot.
I dance around the lounge to Pharrell Williams with my kids, I race them to the park, wait in turn for the swings so I can play too (sorry kids, move it on, Mama wants a go) and I love nothing more than a night out with my girls enjoying cocktails and well feeling exactly like that girl at 17. (Promise I didn’t drink Mum until I was 18)!
Oh, and when my kids are fighting, I often wonder who they are and where I am, I’m certain I was just about to watch ‘Saved By the Bell’ and eat my ‘tea’ on the sofa, my Mum had cooked for me! Oh!
…And you know what, there’s nothing wrong with any of that, because it’s OK to say I’m a Mum but I’m still me, I want to enjoy who I am when I’m not with my kids as much as when I am, I still want to have girlie holidays (and Oh do I), I still want date nights with my husband and shopping days with my Mama.
(And yes I still sometimes refer to my Mum as Mama)!
I still shop in Topshop (if it’s good enough for Mossy, right), and want to experiment with my hair, wear short LBD’s- and simply be myself.
Maybe that’s exactly what being an adult, really is.
Being happy with being you.
Not trying to be anyone else.
Complex, fun, sometimes funny, a little bit crazy, driven, kind me.
See I know who I am.
Maybe being an adult is retaining all the good things about being a teen (with better eyebrows) with greater life experience and hopefully wisdom- which includes never rocking concealer on your lips again. Ever.
Are you an adult yet?