She also thinks I am a lot younger than her.
You see, I am 25 — I would add “and-a-half” here, but that would make me sound seven — and she is 21. That’s only a four-year difference, but to her, I might as well be 37 … or nine.
To Sis, my “oldness” comes from the fact that Darling Husband and I have been an old married couple since Grade 11. From my obsession with ladyish dresses, skirts and cardigans. From my weekly raw-vegetable-chopping-and-bagging — which she still talks about with a horrified expression.
But in a lot of ways, she thinks I am young for my age. My taste in music seems to have plateaued at “13-year-old girl.” I love Miley Cyrus/Hannah Montana, Demi Lovato, High School Musical, Camp Rock, etc. I still read Judy Blume and Beverly Cleary books when I need something comforting. I am never without Love Heart candies. I love dolls and Goldfish crackers and Mary-Jane shoes.
There is a lot of jabber on the internet about the “right” age to have a baby. People argue you should be older and more financially secure, and other people argue you should do it while you’re young, because things keep getting more expensive all the time.
I go back and forth with how old I feel. Some days I feel like 25 is young, and some people wait another 10 years before having a baby. And other days (most days, if I’m being honest), I’m like omigod-my-baby-making-years-are-passing-me-by!
Really, there is no magic age or level of maturity. If I get pregnant at 25, some people will tell me — or say behind my back — that I’m too young. And if I wait a few years, some people will pressure me and say I’m holding off too long.
You just have to do what feels right! Chances are, I will be that mom at the park who always carries Love Hearts in her purse, and is really, really knowledgeable about the lastest preteen sensation …