This morning was a morning like every other. We woke up at six, hit snooze twice, then I got ready while Peter shoveled snow (seriously EVERY MORNING, guys. All the winter hates.) I heard Eli starting to get cranky in his room, so I went in and rescued him and brought him into our bathroom while I got ready, and he played with a toy cat and chattered away.

We got ready, went downstairs, had breakfast, gave the dog breakfast. Got Eli dressed and washed up and brushed his teeth. Got all our appropriate winter clothes on - boots, coats, hats. Exchanged lots of hugs and kisses before we headed out in our respective vehicles to go to work. Peter dropped Eli off at his sitter's on the way. I made sure the dog had lots of water before leaving.

It struck me later today that our morning is so adult. Our LIFE is so adult. I feel perpetually 20 years old, yet here I am, owning a house, raising a child, making RRSP contributions, ensuring that the dog doesn't die of dehydration while we're away. We are as grown-up as grown-up gets. Responsible for not just ourselves, but also for a child and a pet. There is no one reminding us to take our vitamins or floss our teeth or renew our drivers' licenses. When I really think about it, this is actually mind-boggling.

Being an adult: I don't hate it, but I don't feel like I should be doing it. It still feels like this is stuff that other people do, but not me.