Growing Up. It's Hard to Do.

College degree. Check. Full-time job. Check?

Somehow it happened. I grew up, and it seems like it happened over night. Six months ago I was busy with date parties and shopping. Today, I am busy with planning meetings and keeping my desk clear. Where did the time go? Better question yet.Where did my youth go?

I graduated from college in May. In June I became a nanny. I spent two months supervising play dates and making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. July rolled around, and I decided it was time to hit the job search hard. I spent several nights a week combing through online job listings, perfecting my resume, and writing cover letters. I landed a couple of interviews, and thank God, I finally landed a job.

Two weeks ago, I began my first full-time job working as an administrative assistant for a non-profit in North Charleston, South Carolina. I am honored to have been selected for this position, but it still seems like I am dreaming. I swear I am just a kid, but somehow I have opened my eyes, and I have found myself living with my boyfriend, bringing home a paycheck and paying bills. What? Who am I? Where has my youth gone?  

Last weekend, three of my best gal pals from my college years came in town to visit. We have scattered all over the East coast since graduation, and this was the first opportunity we had to get back to our old selves. We headed downtown to our old stomping grounds. We had some dinner, and more importantly we had some two dollar drinks before meeting up with my better half and some of his friends for a night on the town. We dropped by a gas station we frequented in our younger years to pick up some brews for the boys, and well for us too. It was there that I entered into one of the most entertaining conversations I can recall.

As my girl, Chelsy, and I approached the counter with our post-grad appropriate purchase of Mich Ultra bottles, we began ranting about how we had become old hags over night. I’m assuming the fine young lady behind the counter could not help but listen in on our rants. When she carded me she said in the most serious of tones, “Girl, you’re only two months older than me, and I got three kids at home. I know how you feel.”

Excuse me, ma’am? You may think you know how I feel, but I can assure you I have no idea how you feel. I have grown up a little bit, and it does suck, but I cannot begin to imagine what it is like to be in this woman’s shoes. Sure, maybe now I buy Mich Ultra instead of Four Loko, but at least I am buying beer and not baby formula.

I have come to the conclusion that I am not quite there yet. I am still growing up. I have entered the work force and the nine to five slump, but I do not have three children, and I certainly do not plan on having any for quite a while. In the mean time I will enjoy my weekend reunions with my best gals, and I will relish in my college years when life was simple.