When I become an adult I'll be able to drink all the Kool-Aid I want and YOU won't be able to stop me!!!I remember mumbling this to myself at least a thousand times growing up as a kid.
My mother made it abundantly clear the only thing I could help myself to in the kitchen without her permission was water.
It may sound a little dictatorial to some. I'm sure it was just her way of making sure I didn't eat myself into an early grave by consuming 20 twinkies, 10 powdered doughnuts and gallons of syrupy sweet beverages in a 24 hour period.
It's funny how the things that are so important to you during your formative years almost cease to exist as you grow older.
Establishing lasting relationships, rearing kids, finding success in your professional career, cleaning up puppy poop, kitty litter boxes, paying bills and attempting to build a little nest egg to fall back on during your golden years all seem to diminish those paramount proclamations we make when we're too young to know any better.
I hadn't thought about my Kool-Aid proclamation in years until this morning.
I was scrolling through my Facebook status updates reading the comments and looking at the photos of schoolmates and their families when a flood of childhood memories came rushing in out of nowhere.
The people who chewed food in the cafeteria with their mouths open in an effort to render you so nauseous you'd have no choice but to give them your lunch, the people who tucked their hand underneath their armpit and made that horrific farting noise, the people who threw spitballs at you and chased you until you were on the verge of collapse pretending there was a bugger on the end of their finger, the people who swore an oath to never marry or have children - all of them (me included) are adults with our own families.
Where does the time go?
I always wondered how on earth my mother could remember her childhood. Surely those stories she told me about similar peer pressure she had faced were so ancient only an archaeologist certified in interpreting hieroglyphics would be able to decipher.
Now I know those stories weren't so ancient at all. I know this because I find myself telling my two boys "When I was a kid......blah blah blah" - and I know they're thinking the same thing I was.
Just last week I received the honorary 'You're-acting-just-like-Nana Award' from my 18 year old.
I have finally arrived.
I am officially my mother and as honored as I am to wear the title proudly, the irony of it all is..........
I DON'T EVEN BUY KOOL-AID
