My Bat Mitzvah - Becoming a woman

Kristi and I were at dinner tonight. We were sharing our normal banter of covering every detail that has transpired since we last caught up about three days earlier. She shared with me an interesting "call to readers" in "Real Simple" magazine. The open-ended question was, "At what point did you know that you were an adult"...or something to that effect.

Of course it prompted so much thought and conversation to follow. There are pivotal moments for all of us.

What seems so funny is that as a Jewish girl, I celebrated my Bat Mitvah within days of my 13th birthday. Somehow, our religion belives this magical age to be a rite of passage into adult hood. What in reality it became was a lot of Hebrew classes, reading (or in my case MEMORIZING) a portion of the Torah and reading a Haftarah, which I admittedly still don't know what it is. I got a big party at the Sportsman's Lodge, many gold charms for my charm holder, and a lovely leatherette photo album which I haven't seen since. While I love my rich culture, I'm not sure turning 13 prepared me for anything that 12 or 11 hadn't already done. I was no more able to face the world than a kitten, timid and small.

At 16, I could drive. This surely meant I had snuck over the line to adulthood. Wheels ='d freedom. I went to sleep on December 17th, still a mere child. I woke up on December 18th, and mysteriously was now ready to have 3000 pounds of high-powered steel beneath my clutches. On the morning of December 18th (it was a Friday), I got up early. Got dressed in my favorite jeans, my I Love Lucy t-shrit and my brand new red Nine West shoes with the stacked wood heals and the bronze trim (it was 1981, remember). My so-called father took me to the DMV to be the first one in line in my brand new opal white Volvo Turbo 240 GLT. I drove a block, perfected a three-point turn, and alas, was given enough rope to hang myself. At 16, sweet or not, I somehow thought I was an adult. That was until Monday, December 21. I was hit broadside by the guy that worked for GTE (aka The Phone Company). I totalled the new car, broke my collar bone, collected a massive concussion with an adult dose of amnesia, and could do nothing for myself or anyone else for that matter all of Christmas vacation and for some time after that. Adulthood was off to a rip roaring start.

I went to college at 17. Now THIS is adulthood. No calling to say when I'd be home. Go to class or not...that was up to me. I could schedule the classes I wanted to take, at the times I wanted to take them. Pretty adult of me to schedule all early morning classes so that I could spend the rest of the day at the beach. College and all it's fun was financed by my generous parents. OK...this adult thing isn't so bad after all.

At 18, I was allegedly truly emancipated. Only, I was still completely bank rolled by the folks. Doesn't quite work well when you are in this limbo sort of phase. I mean, it's nice and all, but deep down, I knew that adulthood meant being independent and I was anything but.

At 21 I could drink alcohol. It was very mature of me to pour the poison down my throat as fast as I could and spend the next 12 hours barfing it up. Afraid that I might die. Or worse, that I might not. Making deals with God while hugging the delicious white porcelain of the toilet, pressing my face so tightly to the bowl just to stay cool. Yeah...this adult thing is great!

And so went the 20s...At 28 Europe at 29 I met my husband, I got married I had kids.

None of these things had the impact it did until the realization at 42, that this is my life. This is MY life. There are kind friends and my dear family. But it finally struck me, something my mother had told me my entire life. When you go to bed at night, you sleep alone.

I never really knew what this meant. What I have come to learn, is that no matter what is going on in the world outside, or who is laying beside you, your life, your happiness, your sadness, your thoughts, your worries, your grit, your dreams...they are exclusively yours. This is when I truly knew I was an adult. When I knew that my heart could break in a million pieces and my parents could pick up those pieces, one at a time, but putting it back together could only be done by me. That's when I knew.

When I stopped coveting the lives of others and started to be inherently, consciouly grateful for every gift I'd been given. When looking at my children play at the beach, chasing the waves seemed like enough to fill my entire world, I knew I was an adult. When knowing that an uneventful day is an event in and of itself. And that that makes a wonderful day, that's when I knew. When I tuck my children safely in their beds every night and I am thankful for their saftey and I am totally conscious of how fragile that moment is. When I was thrilled that my Life Insurance exam came back with a Super Plus rating. These are the moments that I know I'm truly an adult. I don't take a single laugh for granted and I stopped wishing away time. Every bit of good news is GREAT news. I stopped thinking in and started thinking out. When I weathered a very difficult time, day by day, and came out still standing. When I was able to objectively evaluate my own worth in this world, and I liked my score. That's when I knew. It wasn't one event. It was a series of events. But it wasn't at 13, or 16 or 18 or even 21. I don't really believe I became an adult until I knew and truly trusted that I could stand on my own two feet. That didn't happen for me until the most recent of times.