When did you realize you were an adult?

One of my favorite magazines is running a contest--write an essay about the first time you realized you were an adult (or something to that effect) and you could win...I don't remember, something good. I'd love to enter the contest; when I'm writing for real and not for this blog, I think I write reasonably well. (After gratefully testing out of freshman composition in college, I proceeded to take three upper-level classes in the writing department. That's a whole 'nother story.) Though I do have a tendency to overuse parentheses.

But I can't because I'm having fears that I'm not responsible enough to be an adult. BIG fears. I think they're founded. For example, yesterday I went to pay my credit card bill, more than a week late, and learned at the same time that I had overdrawn my checking account not once, but twice. (On the same day, with two checks written to the same cause. I'm going to be going to the bank to throw myself on their mercy and beg for one of the fees to be credited to me. $36 seems a reasonable punishment for being irresponsible. $72 seems like usury.)

That wasn't my only irresponsibility yesterday. Okay, to be honest, neither of those were yesterday. I just realized them yesterday. When I was in law school, I received an award from my clinic for "most likely to be caught playing a computer game in the hours before the bar exam." The only reason that I wasn't, actually, caught playing a computer game was that I was spending the night in a motel by the testing location. I haven't grown out of my default position of playing games. Every day I say to myself "I am NOT going to play games while I'm at work!" Reasonable enough, right? But it seems that the more adamant I am, the more I disobey my own rules. Yesterday--two games of Big Kahuna Reef (which really is pretty pointless when you have managed to get through all 10 levels and there is no longer a challenge) and more games of Alchemy. And that was just while at work. Meanwhile, I have a not-quite-lease that I'm supposed to be writing by tomorrow. And not getting very far. (Note: I'm actually just revising a previous not-quite-lease to change the program terms. Note 2: I don't have a clue what I'm doing. Note 3: I checked the rules of professional conduct for my jurisdiction to make sure that I'm not providing incompetent representation. I think I'm okay, unfortunately. I'd hoped to use that as a reason why I shouldn't be doing this project.)

So today as I was walking to work I changed the terms of my deal with myself. I could use any Google product as distractions from my misery. Gmail, my blog reader, and gchat. If I stuck with that today, I would be really proud of myself.

Well, guess what? Blogger counts, too. But no, this wasn't really just a long post to lead to the conclusion that "I get to waste time blogging today because Blogger is related to Google, hooray!"

It's really about my BIG fear that I'm not responsible enough to be an adult. And, by extension, a parent. Do all childless people feel this fear when a child is actually on its way, by whatever means?

I know, while I'm moaning about waking up in the morning, tripping over eight pairs of shoes to go to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wanting nothing more than to go back to bed, that I won't be able to do that when there is a kiddo in my home. I know that I won't be able to come home from work, put on my PJs, and sit on the couch watching 4 episodes of MASH on DVD instead of applying for new jobs, washing dishes, and cleaning up the blueberry soup that I spilled all over the kitchen last Friday. I know that I'll actually have to think in advance about what to prepare for Shabbat meals each week. I know, I know, I know. But I haven't been able to make any changes in my routines in preparation. Is this normal? Will things fall into place when a kiddo comes along?

And so, when did I realize I am an adult? I haven't yet. I'll let you know when I do.