I am a big girl.
I get it.
I have big girl pants, and I need to pull them on.
Sometimes, I forget that, though. There is still a ten year old kid, buried deep inside, that tends to shine through at times, eagerly awaiting the next exciting thing.
I am ... good grief ... sneaking up toward 41 years of age, and I still get giddy at holiday time. I still look forward to fun plans with friends or family. I still get so excited I can't sleep at the mere thought of a fun get-away with my favorite people.
So, I tend to get really bummed when plans fall through. Again with the ten year old girl!
I don't know how to explain it. In my head, I understand the flexibility that one needs when dealing with the ever-dynamic, always-changing thing we call life. I get the phrase "Life is what happens when we're busy planning." Really, I do, but the ten year old girl inside me still mourns when the excitement is extinguished.
I suppose I could beat myself up about it. That I am somehow selfish ... I am immature ... I can't handle change ... I am somehow not normal ... but here's the thing. I LIKE that I can still manage to find the childlike wonder in things around me. If that makes me weird or immature or not quite in the head, so be it. I never intend to be selfish ... that's never my intention. I just get so excited that it's a bit of blow when the little things fall through in the end ...
Perhaps the ten year old girl inside just needs a good dose of reality ... a good stare at the mortgage payment book ... or the student loan papers ... or the myriad of other things that tend to suck the ten year old out of all of us. But then, what sort of fun would that be?
This weekend, with a change of plans, I will be out raking leaves ... maybe the ten year old girl will come to visit, and before it's all said and done, she'll jump in a BIG ole pile of those leaves ... just to experience the wonder of childhood one more time.