Okay, so when did I become a grown-up?
And how did that little fact of life sneak up on me without my knowledge? You'd think that a woman approaching thirty . . . something . . . ish, who is married with three kids, would know by now that she is a grown-up.
But I have this amazing ability to ignore things I don't like, and maturing is one of them.
You might be asking yourself, "So what exactly brought this delusional woman out of her coma, and made her recognize herself as a functioning adult?"
Well, I'll tell you.
Yes, that's right . . . the Holidays.
You see, I come from a pretty big family, my husband's family is even bigger, and as a kid, I never had any responsibilities regarding the cooking of the holiday meal. My brother, my cousins, and I would play, play, play!
We weren't allowed in the kitchen to bother my mom, grandma, or aunts. Same rules for my hubby.
A couple of years ago, I made the mistake of volunteering to cook what was then one of my secret signature dishes (thank you, Rachael Ray) for my family for Thanksgiving. And it was a HUGE hit.
So then they asked if I wouldn't mind making it for Christmas.
And how about Easter?
The next Thanksgiving?
You see the pattern.
And this year I am bringing dishes for hubby's family Thanksgiving, and helping my mom with our family's meal. But last night while talking to my husband about the food we're bringing/cooking, it hit me that this is what the grown-ups do.
They bring the food, or cook the food. I was just the go-getter . . . go get the milk out of the fridge, go get the butter, go put ice in the glasses, etc. Occasionally I stirred a boiling pot of something while someone took a break.
But over the last few years I have become responsible for actual side dishes. This is an amazing development for me. And it makes me realize I have become a grown-up. I will be the one in the kitchen working, trying to keep the kids out of the way, maybe letting them grab the milk or butter to lend a hand.