Sometimes I think that I must be the only women my age with small children. Because the parents of all my friends are much older than me, heck they’re older than Pigpen too, who has five years on me as it is.
It seems that everybody I know that has children around the same ages as mine is at least in their mid-thirties, in some cases their late thirties. I guess they established their careers first, or something. It just makes me feel so young.
Like this weekend we went to a barbecue at a friend’s house. They have a daughter who just turned four and another daughter who will be three in October. They graduated college before I even started high school. I mean, what do I even have to talk to them about besides our children? I’m a product of the eighties, and for them those are their teen years.
It’s not like I don’t have a decent career, even with two children. I make a decent salary and so does Pigpen. Yes, I haven’t finished my degree yet, but I’m working on it. And sometimes it really sucks. Small children, plus work, plus school, doesn’t leave much time for anything else.
I just feel really young. I *know* there are women my age with small children. My SIL is the same age, although she is just now pregnant with her first. And two of my good friends from high school have or are about to have children. It’s just no one I hang out with is my age. It’s a little lonely sometimes.
It’s also hard to remember at times, that we are much younger than some of our parent friends and that we didn’t spend years as DINKs (dual-income, no kids). We got married and had a baby a little more than nine months later. I was 23 for goodness sake! Much too young to have a baby, yet there he was. So we don’t have as much disposable income. We haven’t bought a house yet.
At the end of the month we’re going to go on our first vacation with children. We’re planning to spend four glorious days in
I mean a party or a barbecue is one thing, but a whole beach weekend? Yikes! Very nervous. And yours truly is not the best conversationalist. I get so shy and tongue-tied and second guess everything I say. The running commentary in my head usually includes classic lines such as “OMG, that was so stupid,” “Idiot”, and “I can’t believe you just said that.” Good times. Such a supportive self-monologue I’ve got going there.
In other news, my best friend from high school is coming to visit me this weekend. Not only is she visiting, but she’s also staying in what passes for a guest room in our townhouse. There’s a twin bed, that’s fairly comfortable. And there will be sheets. Also a half bath.
Unfortunately the room also has our broken computer (which sometimes works), that sits on a beautiful Pottery Barn desk, the only piece of Pottery Barn furniture that we own. My treadmill is stored there. As well as all our movies, and assorted other items that we wanted out of the rest of the house, but haven’t done anything else with. I have two nights to attempt to tidy it up a bit.
I'm really looking forward to her visit. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. I really hope she has a good time. I mean, she doesn’t have kids, so I hope a whole weekend around them doesn’t drive her nuts.
On Friday, I’m taking the day off work and we’re going to go down to DC and look around, mainly at the museums. Saturday is Gabe’s last soccer practice, so there’s that, and then we’re going to go see Up in 3D. There might even be ice cream afterwards. On Sunday, I believe the plan is to drive up to the