Age

I was discussing kids with someone at work.  Actually, I worked the conversation in that direction on purpose. They were shocked to find out that I have three kids.  AND that the oldest is eleven.

“Wow, you don’t look old enough to have three kids, let alone an eleven-year-old.”

Sigh.

It was pretty amazing how quickly he started treating me with more respect, like I actually knew what I was doing.  (Or in this particular case, had no clue what I was doing, but was doing my best to learn enough to get through the day.)

Don’t get me wrong, I love that people seem to think I’m younger than I actually am.  Really, it’s great.

I remember a time I was at Freddy’s turning in a winning scratch-it and got carded. 

Seriously?!? For a lottery ticket?!?!

I just looked at my cart, which at the moment was full of children.  My niece was with me too, so I had FOUR children ranging in age from infant to five.  I pulled out my ID and the clerk kinda sheepishly said “oh.”

Back to now.

I already face challenges in my chosen field because I’m not a man.  When you add the inevitable challenges that being perceived as “young” adds it is frustrating.

I’m not twenty-two.  I’m thirty-three.  I have three kids, two dogs, two cats, a flock of chickens, and a mortgage.

I’m a grown-up.

I have invested many years into learning my strengths and weaknesses.  I know what I’m good at, what I’m capable of, and what is beyond my abilities.

Everyone who’s worked with me treats me with the respect I've earned.  (At least to my face)

This summer was the first time I didn't have my choices and decisions questioned repeatedly by those who believe they are older and “wiser.”

I have to laugh at those that haven’t worked with me, because otherwise I’d be so frustrated all the time.  

At 5’4” and under 120 lbs, I’m not very physically impressive or dominating.  But don’t discount me.  Don’t assume that because I chose not to yell, curse, or be abrasive that I don’t know what I’m doing.

I do.

And I’m doing what’s best for me and mine.