I'm a "Grown Up"... drop the quotations.

I have been experiencing a rude awakening lately. Or maybe I should call it a reality check, a harsh reality check. I feel I am coming to term with my age. Currently I am only twenty-six years old and it's not that I'm feeling "old" but I have begun to not feel so "young".

When I was in second grade, I would admire the thirteen-year-old eighth graders and think to myself... "when I'm in 8th grade, I'll be a grown up." Once I entered 8th grade I realized how foolish  that was and I would adjust my thinking ... "when I graduate high school, thats when I'll be 'grown up'." At the end of high school I, again found myself laughing at myself, I adjusted my thinking again... "when I finish college."

Needless to say this "I'm a grown-up cut off date" has been rewritten numerous time since then. It has come to include "when I finished grad school, when I'm married, when I get out of Steubenville, when I get a real job..etc" And I have to say I have finally hit the marker.

Baby Jamie

"When I have a baby."

That's the one.

When Jamie was born I knew it. There was no more pushing the "grown up" milestone back. Not because I didn't want to, but because the feeling I had been waiting for had finally hit. There was no mistaking it. Of course this all probably sounds pretty foolish but whether or not you have ever thought about the end of your childhood I have to admit a certain amount of mourning and reflection takes place.

For me... this year, so far, has caused me to reflect on my childhood in so many ways.

Strangely enough I didn't put any thought into the subject when I first had Jamie. Probably because I was so exhausted from the move across country, the new job, nine months of pregnancy, 48 hours in labor, 5 days in NICU and the three months of midnight and early morning feedings. It was this summer when it all hit me... and the trigger... oddly enough, was the release of the last Harry Potter movie.

Ok, ok, I know what you are thinking. Really?!!? Harry Potter?!

"Grown Up" Harry and Ginny Potter

I started reading Harry Potter when I was fourteen. Not that I am by any means an avid reader, but Harry Potter  was the first book I really got excited about reading everyday, the first book I would choose to stay up and read rather than sleeping (and if you know me at all... you know I LOVE sleeping). If it wasn't for the horrendously funny portrayal of Harry and cast dressed to be in their 40's as the last scene, I'm sure I would have sobbed rather than laughed uncontrollably.


Then came September 11th. The 10th Anniversary of September 11th. I watched 9/11 happen from my high school sophomore classroom. At the time concerned for the people killed and their families, worried for my country, my friends considering enlistment after high school and the war that was to most likely to follow these attacks. I remember thinking "my friends will be fighting this war."

Welcome Home Party for my cousin
whom spent a year deployed in the Middle East.
He was only 12-years-old on 9/11/01.

This September, ten years later, I watched the news' memorial service and felt a very different level of...well...sadness. I thought of all those who have sacrificed their lives, sacrificed their husbands, sons, daughters, wives, mothers, fathers and friends. People who sacrificed years of their lives, their mental well being and time with their families to protect us. I thought of my husband, who is in the National Guard, my son and what the future holds for him.

I thought of the other side... the mothers in the Middle East watching this all unfold first hand while they raised their children. I remember being overwhelmed, turning off the TV and looking at Jamie in my lap sucking down his afternoon bottle before nap time and thinking "there is a woman over there feeding her son who does not have the luxury of turning off the violence with the click of a button."

Papa and I - December 2008

This month my 85 year old grandfather is in the hospital. He has been diagnosed with congenital heart failure. While his body has aged significantly, mentally he is still very sharp. When I visit him he is talkative, reactive and very familiar. Just like when I was a child he shares stories of growing up in New York City in the 1930's. The navy boats he toured in the harbor, the planes he would see fly over head. He talks about what life was like as an orphan during the depression.
 He describes the places he traveled to around Europe during World War II. He rarely ever tells us anything about the conflicts he participated in, even though we know there were many. He attempts to get us interested in all the Navy ships he has studied, the planes, jets and air craft carriers he's seen and when we can't relate he shares stories about working at the JFK airport as a Port Authority      
                                                                                      officer.

He has been sharing stories of his life with me ever since I can remember and while I know he leaves out a great deal of experiences I still have yet to hear a re-run. A life time of stories, a life time a events, experiences, encounters, moments, thoughts and discoveries. He only married once and has six children, eleven grandchildren and two great grandsons. Such a full life.

Three Generations. Baby James, Poppa & Great Papa

My husband stayed home from work so I could avoid taking Jamie to the hospital to see Papa. After talking with an 85-year-old man for 3 hours to come home and see my 7 month old son... it was overwhelming. I kept repeating it over and over again in my mind... "They are 85 years apart!"

Between spending time with the two of them...time... seems to take on a whole new meaning. Life seems to take on a whole new meaning, as well.