I growed up

We were walking out of Costco yesterday, our cart(s) full of children and bulk foods (can you beat $5 for a huge flat of strawberries? I think not...).

As we walked out past the customer service desk, I noticed the line of potential members (you know, I used to think you had to be special to be a Costco member. Like you had to work for a certain company or something to be able to buy 40-pound bags of Lays potato chips. Kind of like how I used to think that all dads who were in our church worked for the church like Dad did. Or like how if you moved to another state, you just traded houses with the person who's house you wanted.). A young couple stood in line, looking excited.

I knew how they felt.

Once you can buy a Costco membership, you have officially become an adult (you don't learn to stand in line in kindergarten for nothing. It's all planned out so that you can do it at Costco once you've reached the Adult Threshold).

I remember when Jeremy and I stood in that very same line years ago as pretty-much newly weds, and I felt like we were doing something magical (there is still a sort of thrill when I can buy a crate of cheddar cheese at cost).

Now, eight years and four kids later, fully immersed in adulthood-ness, I looked sort of wistfully at the couple, and back at my chaos on wheels.

A lot has happened on this crazy ride, and you know, even though there may be more glamorous things to do than watching Lily industriously pick her nose and offer me what she had found, I wouldn't trade it for anything.