This post was inspired by:

There were many things I have done, many situations I have been in, that were very grown up. Even as a child I acted older then my age. Politics were my favorite subject and chess my game of choice; back when I could show how old I am using my fingers.

But last week I felt like a grown up. It was like I reached the summit and could not return down that path. I may never be the same again.

My neighbours girls came over to play with my three year old son. A two and a four year old were delivered by their older sister to hang at our house. The kids were enjoying themselves and husband was cooking dinner. He announced it will be served in ten minutes. We were having fish so there was no way to feed extra mouths. Although my son would have been the prefect gentlemen if we were to let him share his dinner. Not because he is so courteous. He just thinks food is a major waste of play time.

I jokingly said to my husband tonight we might have peace at dinner table, since the kids are busy playing. He looked at me puzzled, then told me I am to take the girls home in time for us to sit down for dinner. As a family. Which we are, I reasoned. And that would make me the parent. But I just don’t have it in me. The heart to break up the fun, the guts to tell the kids they are unwelcome, the streak to be mean.

I was delaying it until the plates were on the table. When it was time to give the speech I was more nervous then the time I was interviewed by national TV station. I told my son it was dinner time and the girls need to go home. My son protested and the girls looked at me with disappointment. Only for a second, but they made me feel so terrible. Then they stood up, put their shoes on and I took them home.

When I sat down to eat I realized I was an adult. Sure I am a mom to my son. I teach him, nurture him, love him. He will in large part grow up to be an adult that his childhood shapes him into. The years he spends with me. But being his mom made me Mrs. Stasha to all his friends. That one is tough to swallow. Like being called M’am at the supermarket…