That’s it. I’ve officially come to the conclusion that I am getting old. When did this happen? It crept up on me so fast that I think I have whiplash. Now I know “old” is a relative term and, to some, thirtysomething is far from entering the nursing home. But it seems like only yesterday when I was riding my bike around the neighborhood, getting yelled at by the cantankerous old-timers who lived down the block. I blinked and that time, like a lot of the past, has become a distant memory. What brought on this bout of age-related depression, you ask? It’s been a series of recent incidents which I now realize are only things that happen if you are getting old. Let’s review.

1. While pulling my son out of his car seat yesterday, my back cracked in three places.

2. My nineteen-year-old babysitter tells me about her weekends of partying, dating, and lying on the beach. I purposefully fail to mention to her that my weekends consist of going to Target, arguing with my husband about who does more chores, and lying in bed with a headache.

3. I have to turn the volume down during television commercials because I can’t hear anything over all the noise.

4. I watched The Real World Cancun, season 22, on MTV the other day, and I could not understand a single thing that was happening.

5. I have started complaining about “kids” who drive like maniacs and should have their licenses revoked.

6. I found some old pictures of myself and said, “This picture is from twenty years ago”.

7. Whereas I used to stay awake well past midnight, I am now firmly tucked in bed at 10 p.m.

8. Whenever I eat at a restaurant, I complain about the prices.

9. I contemplated calling 9-1-1 while a group of teenagers were hanging out behind my house.

10. And finally, the most damning evidence of all: I’ve started listening to NPR while driving. Case closed.

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