Pay no attention to the girl behind the curtain…

Sometimes life is flying by at such a rapid pace that you don’t have time to stop and think.  Whoosh.  And it’s gone.  Other times, I suddenly realize, “Oh my God. I’m an adult. How the hell did THAT happen?” My brain starts to let that reality settle in a little bit. I’ll be 40 in a few short years. I start thinking back to when my mom turned 40. Oh crap, that’s ME now. Then the denial starts. Oh no, this can’t be. It wasn’t that long ago that I was a teenager wearing acid washed jeans, listening to Def Leppard, and trying desperately to tease my bangs and shellac my hair in unnatural ways. I’ve gotten rid of the jeans and the Aqua Net. (Thank God.)  Honestly, not the music. And not the feeling that I’m still that teenager. Or at least an early 20-something.  With everything still ahead of me.

I’ve been married 10+ years. I have an amazing kid. I have a mortgage and a 401k and dental insurance. And business cards. People come to me at work and actually expect me to know something. I feel like I’m just pretending to be a grown up. Masquerading as someone that has responsibilities and a career. Someone that needs to seriously consider dying the gray hair. Don’t they know that I’m not really an adult? My bosses trust me to research complex medical issues. To actual comprehend it and give useful information to them. To be able to work independently; to analyze, organize and whip a file into shape. I train new paralegals in our department.  I have to admit, it was a little nauseating when a paralegal was hired that was younger than me. I’ve worked in a law firm since I was 17. I was always the youngest. Now the new associates look like 14 year olds. 

But I still feel like that unsure teenager. I see old friends on Facebook, and I can easily remember our friendship and what those days were like. Then I realize I don’t really know them anymore. We’ve both had years of experiences and moments between then and now that have changed us. Or maybe just them. Because I’m still me. I don’t feel like I’ve really changed that much. I still feel awkward in most social situations, but I know better now when to hold my tongue. And I know to trust myself more, to give myself more credit. I’ve still love to turn the music up loud and sing in the car and play air drums on the steering wheel. Except now I don’t care if someone sees me. And sometimes I’m singing along to a kids song with my son in the backseat. It’s not Def Leppard, but damn if I can’t get that Imagination Movers song out of my head. I still get a little jump in my stomach when I kiss my husband. Except instead of long, dreamy make out sessions, it’s a quick instant.  Usually right before he goes in one direction and I go in another.  Packing lunches, paying bills, taking out the trash.   

So when do I finally feel like a grown up?  You’d think by now I would have caught on.  You’d think I wouldn’t be shocked by the wrinkles showing up.  I’m thrilled when I get carded to buy wine.  (It so rarely happens.  Getting carded, I mean.  Not the wine.)   I don’t want to be a stodgy, boring, stiff GROWN UP.  But I wonder if it will ever feel like this is really MY life.

One day

I have hope that one day I will be sane.  I will regain my pre-pregnancy memory and sanity.  I will remember where I was going after I get 2 feet from my office door.  I will actually remember what file I am looking for when I find myself in the file room, and also the correct file number and what it was that I wanted specifically out of the file.  I will not do laps around the grocery story until I remember the one thing that I forgot to put on my list.  At least, I’m pretty sure I forgot something.  Did I forget something? 

One day, I may actually make it to work on time.  Without the stress and adrenaline of being on time because of a trial, or a major project, or because the boss gave me “that look” last Wednesday when I skulked around the corner at 8:50.  (Damn it, he wasn’t supposed to be at the office until 10.  What’s wrong with him?)   “That look” usually only works for about a week, until I wake up one morning and forget that it happened.  See my previous statement about pre-pregnancy memory. 

One day, I may be able to have a conversation with my husband without my son yelling, “Mommy!  Mommy!  Excusememommy, Excusememommy, Excusememommeeeeeee!”  When I do stop to see what it is that he needs so badly that he’s willing to sacrifice everyone in the room’s eardrums, he will not say, “Um……look at that!” and point to the refrigerator because he can’t come up with anything else.   Actually, that’s okay, because one day I will probably be the one willing to sacrifice my eardrums to get HIS attention.  “ExcusemeT, excusemeT, Excuuuuuusemeeee!  Um, how was your day?” 

As part of regaining my sanity, one day I will not confuse my files, thus confusing my boss and looking like an idiot when I tell him that the nurses depositions are set for 3 weeks from now in case X, when, in fact, they are set but in case Z.  Thus requiring an emailing explaining that my brain is scrambled and I am not entirely incompetent.    

One day, I may be able to …..um….. oh, damn it.  I forgot, never mind.   

PS – Do not burst my bubble by explaining that I’m getting older and will probably never again see even a fraction of the memory that I used to have.  It’s my fantasy.  And it’s Monday; isn’t that bad enough?

Onto another week

What’s worse than losing something important at work?  Spending 2 days looking for something you thought you lost, but does not exist.  I don’t know whether to be happy that I didn’t lose the authorizations, or seriously worried that I’ve lost my mind instead.   It turns out that my authorizations were a ghost.  An illusion created by a disturbing mixture of being stressed, overwhelmed and anxious, while simultaneously feeling like I have no frickin’ idea what is going on.    Maybe my subconscious was telling me to slow down and look at what I have going on in my office?  Thanks, subconscious, but next time could you send me a note or email so I don’t look (and feel) like a spaced out lunatic?  Much obliged. 

So I finally bit the bullet and told boss A what I had lost (prefaced by “For the first time in 8 years…” to soften the blow for me), only to get a completely bewildered look.  Thankfully, boss A has been so busy lately he couldn’t remember one way or the other either.  Then I called Plaintiff’s counsel to see if they either A)had the records we needed or B)would send us an authorization and see what they said.  They couldn’t recall whether they sent us an authorization either, so I was feeling better and better! 

The upside is that my office is now really organized since I’ve reviewed and touched every piece of paper AT LEAST twice.  And I have a much better handle on what is sitting here waiting to be completed. 

If only I could get my house at least as semi-organized as my office.  I spent the weekend cleaning everybody’s else’s mess, except for my own.  Saturday was a ‘work day’ at T’s new daycare.  It’s a co-op in a way; a non-profit preschool run by a parent board.  (Which I have been suckered into joining.  But that’s another post.)  They require (but mostly just beg for) parent involvement and assistance.  Thankfully, a lot of parents showed up and we were able to get a tremendous amount of work done.  Go us!  On Sunday, I met a co-worker at the office and we cleaned and organized our “overflow file room”, a/k/a “the scary room” as I call it.  It’s the room where files are in limbo between being “over” and actually getting closed and moved off-site.  It’s also where we keep the bazillion used binders to be recycled, where trial equipment is stored and whatever else other people feel like dumping in there instead of dealing with.  We only spent 2 hours and completely overhauled that room & consequently felt like super-productive, employees of the year.  Thankfully, boss A was also here to witness our efforts so we got big brownie points.  Which is probably the only thing we’ll get for it, anyway. 

Come Sunday night, I felt like I didn’t even have a weekend.  Coupled by taking Mr. T to the grocery store after he played in his room instead of taking a nap, (read: he was a complete terror in the grocery store.  Seriously.) I was completely ready to hit the reset button on the weekend.  Since that wasn’t an option (I’m fresh out of plutonium for my time-machine/Delorean), I watched the Dexter season premiere and sighed happily while eating fresh baked chocolate chip cookies.  Ah, bloodshed and chocolate.  At least I had the presence of mind in the grocery store to grab a package of refrigerated cookie dough.  (Actually, wine was my preferred choice, but chocolate chip cookies don’t give me a hangover.  And I didn’t trust myself with the wine bottle last night.)

So here’s to another week…let’s hope I don’t misplace anything and can maintain my sanity until Friday.

Just sayin’

Of course, in order to ask others what they think of a new title, people would have to actually READ my blog. There I go again with my delusions…

Now to get up the balls to actually make this thing more visible on the web. Oh hell.