Last weekend I took fifteen 7th and 8th graders down to St. Louis for a youth group event. The first night I wanted to throw each of them through a window. After a long day of traveling and programming they were over-tired and overly rambunctious. But by Sunday afternoon I found myself really enjoying their company. I started seeing through their immature antics, instead choosing to see the hilarity and levity they brought to certain situations. Deep down, some (but not all) of them are really good kids.

But, wow, are they young. They were all born when I was middle school. I spent a bus ride on Saturday chatting with an 8th grade boy about the type of music he listens to. In addition to indie rock (some so indie I’ve never even heard of them), he said likes ’90s music. I laughed.  Did he mean ’90s music like Nirvana, which gained popularity before he was even born, or ’90s music like N’Sync, which had it’s heyday when he was still a toddler?

Yeah, I felt old. Not only am I familiar with music from 1990-1999, but I also lived through all of the fantastic, synthesized ’80s pop.  I remember listening to “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” by Tears for Fears on the radio with my babysitter.  In 1985.  When the single was first released. And not on “the best of the ’80s, ’90s and today” radio station.

Facebook is also making me feel old. Lately I’ve been coming in contact with more and more long lost friends, guys and girls I grew up with, and realizing that I have no idea who they are anymore. They are real people now. I spent 10-15 years of my childhood going to school, camp and religious school with them; some I haven’t even seen in that amount of years. Some have jobs doing things I had no idea they were interested in doing. They have talents I never saw coming. Some of them are married and already have kids. Most of them, I’m sure (I hope), have outgrown their bitchy tendencies, although being adult does not automatically make you a nice person, I know.

Normally I don’t feel old. I usually don’t even feel old enough to be getting married in 4 months. Me, a married woman? Pssha!

When did we all grow up?

My car would not start this morning, and J had to drive me to work.

Now I have to wait for him to pick me up.

I’m annoyed.