On being a so-called grown-up

First of all, Poppy is settling in nicely. She's built a solid addiction to chew toys, loves to bark at anything new, and especially loves chasing and chewing pine needles and cones. We've decided that her breed combination is (get ready, designer mutt lovers....): The Shihuirrel. She's half Shih-tzu, half squirrel. Aside from a sad lack of tree climbing ability, we think it fits. I'm getting over my misplaced crate-training guilt and realizing that having a dog that sleeps through the night at 3 months, isn't able to chew up shoes and toys, and finds real solace in her private space isn't such a bad thing. True, I have guilty pangs when I put her in her crate and leave (whine, whine, bark) to go to the store or to a meeting at my old office (for my non-paid job - more on that psychosis later...) but I was the kind of parent who couldn't let my babies "cry it out" either - a characteristic that left me seriously over-tired and emotionally strung out for about 8 years. Surely this little 4-lb. fluffball can help me work through that personal flaw?!

Now, on being a so-called grown up. This is not a job for the weak. Changing schools has gone reasonably well but it hasn't been completely without incident. We've made several changes recently to make our lives more family-centered including said school changes, reduced (hopefully soon-to-be eliminated) work hours for me, and making more of an effort to spend time as a family. These are all well-intentioned and so far, beneficial to all of us. I have to say, though, I am exhausted. Sure, the fact that I have all but given up caffeine and am (finally) getting back to lower-calorie eating may have something to do with it (oh, mid-afternoon sugar, how I miss your hip-widening jolt). It may be the cool weather and overcast days making me want to curl up with a good book and a warm blankie. Of course it could be tragedy, PMS (word to the wiser-than-me: best not mixed with the acquisition of a new puppy), low-grade virus of some sort, forgetting my thyroid pill, or just plain old self doubt and other assorted gifts of mid-life.

When my parents used to tell me that they really didn't feel old I simply couldn't believe it. How could they be brushing up against 40 (I mean 40 for Pete's sake... that's Rolling Stones old!) and not feel it?? What I realize now is that some days I do feel physically or mentally worn out but deep down inside, I have a distinct feeling of "don't these people know I'm not prepared to deal with all of these adult issues???" I sometimes (usually) feel like I belong more in the game of tag on the playground than in the uncomfortable chair at the PTO meeting. I may not always know what to say, how to finesse a situation, or where to get the boundless energy I might need to face a particular day. What I do know:

I am capable. Once I know what needs to be done, I find a way to make it happen, and maybe that's what being "grown-up" is.