People used to say to me, “Wow, you have kids?! You’re so young!”

I wasn’t such a young mom, though. I was 24 when we had our first baby. Some women have babies when they’re still teenagers, people. I was not that young. Maybe I just look young for my age, and that’s great. I’m always thankful for anyone asking to see my ID when I buy liquor. Please, kind cashiers, please don’t stop.

No one has said wow, you have kids?! to me lately, but that’s only partly because I am inevitably older each day than I used to be. Its also because these days I’m unemployed and homeschooling, and therefore nearly always accompanied by one or both of my children. And at 32 and wearing mom jeans and no make-up, I think everyone reasonably assumes I’m their mother, not a babysitter.

But I’m not the only one here getting older each day. All of us are. (Yeah, don’t read me if you don’t want the truth.) And the people in my life who are most noticeably getting older each day are my kids. Have you seen them lately? They’re either growing up to be giants, or I’m the tooth fairy. Okay. I am the tooth fairy. But seriously, they’re getting really tall. Young Son’s head comes up to my armpit, and his older Brother is at my shoulder height when we stand back-to-back.

So, my point is this. Back when they were babies and toddlers, and I’d carry them around on my hip or in a backpack, I really did feel like the young mom that people were telling me I was. Now that they’re quickly approaching me in height, it doesn’t feel quite the same when I say to someone, “Hello, nice to meet you. These are my kids, [Brother] and [Young Son].” Saying someone almost as tall as me is my kid makes me feel… well, it makes me feel… not so young.

It’s cool though. Some day my kids will be adults and no one will card me at the liquor store anymore. I guess I’m still pretty young after all.

me with my arms around my tall kids