fake, fake, fake, fake

when i was separating the eggs for easter paksa, i felt like i was NOT old enough to be doing this.


i felt like i was faking it.  pretending that i know how to separate eggs.  look confident and fool the world, right?  i was the only one in the house, but i felt watched.  not in a freaky way, but in a way that i was aware of my position in the world.  i am a grown up.  and i am cracking an egg and pouring it back and forth.

often i turn off the lights in the house for night and get a little head spin that i am the adult in this house.  that i am in charge of  paying the mortgage.  that i am the “woman of the house” as i was asked recently. my hair is graying very quickly suddenly, enough to have people raise their eyebrows and say, “hey!  nice hair!”  wow. when will i feel old?  does everyone make the shift at some point to being comfortable as the one in charge?

paska cut.JPG

i act like it.  every day.  like elaine telling jerry, “fake, fake, fake, fake”  i cook and clean and pay bills and find the cat and cut hair and answer messages and sign papers and sleep in pee (not my own yet) and  clean up pee and clean up poop and clean up vomit and talk about how old the kids are getting.

wisdom out there?

9 thoughts on “fake, fake, fake, fake

  1. No wisdom. What you’re feeling sounds very familiar to me. Maybe our parents feel the same way … and our grandparents too. Probably because fundamentally we remain the same person throughout our lives. The only difference now is that I sort of submit to responsibility …


  2. ummm…no, only that you are not alone…i sometimes wonder if it feels different once your own parents are no longer around – like a slap in the face that you are now it…i hope not…


  3. Thanks so much for commenting on my post. It made me feel better–seriously. I’m so happy I found your blog.

    Re: this entry–I totally relate. I don’t feel like I should be my age (32) and am surprised when I realize people who seem like “real adults” to me are my age or younger. My body is telling me I am, in fact in my thirties now, though. More gray hairs, creaky joints, CROW’S FEET…ugh.

    I find it’s easiest to separate eggs by cracking them, then pouring the whole thing into your hand (inside a bowl) and letting the whites ooze through your fingers, leaving the yolk. I read that that’s how Julia Child did it and I tried it and much prefer it.


  4. Ummm…yes. Raising my hand on this one. I did our taxes this year and my head was spinning thinking “how am I old enough to be paying taxes”? But the thing that has hit me the hardest is seeing the shift from looking forward to my Mom visiting so that she can take care of me, to the visits here not happening so much but me visiting her to help she and my dad…that’s a tough one. Hang in there friend and know you are not alone in this.


  5. yeah. playing house. i feel like i’m playing house a lot. and when i run or skip – i wonder if i look funny. i don’t remember my mom skipping when i was 5. maybe she did. i wonder when i should start dressing like a “mom” – but that REALLY wouldn’t feel like i am being me. so, i keep playing house. and using lots of sprinkles. on cake. on cookies. on oatmeal. on malt-o-meal. i’ve never had any on bread though . . .
    keep playing. :) so will i.


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