Tuesday, June 15, 2010


When I was a kid, one of my favorite activities in the whole world was playing house. Part of the appeal was pretending to be whoever you wanted to be. You could create your name, age, occupation, how many kids you had, who you were married to. Most often my name was Stephanie, I was married to Joey McIntyre, and had two kids (my two favorite Cabbage Patch Kids - Edrick and Angela). I can’t tell you how often this scenario was replayed, but I’m sure it was more than you care to know. I was a grown up, doing grown up things. Driving, grocery shopping, using a credit card, writing checks, wearing high heels. I loved every minute of it.

Now that I am a grown up, it doesn’t seem quite so fun. My legal name was never changed, I still go by Amy. I’m not married to the youngest member of New Kids on the Block. Driving was fun for a while (especially when I was 16!), but now that I’ve been doing it for so long, it’s merely a way of transportation (except on that perfect day with the windows rolled down, scream singing to the radio). Grocery shopping is not nearly as fun, especially when you’re spending REAL money. And shopping just so you can prepare a meal and eat alone is even more depressing (Where is Joey?). I found out in college that using a credit card definitely has its consequences and that free tee shirt is definitely not worth risking your credit score. Writing checks out of an account you don’t have much money in has never fallen into my fun category. However, wearing high heels is still pretty fun. Especially when you’re only 5’4”.

All this to say, growing up hasn’t quite been the whirlwind of fun and adventure I thought it would be. Yes, there are moments when I’m perfectly content. Yes, I’ve accomplished a lot in my 29 years of life. I just feel like there’s more out there. More to be discovered. More adventure to be had. And I’m ready. Because next year, I’ll be 30. And I can’t remember EVER pretending to be 30.

Who knows. Maybe this will be the year that I meet my Joey McIntyre.

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