Let's just say I have had a serious reality check.

1. Whenever anyone would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, the answer was always "a librarian". I loved reading so much that I was sure the ultimate job for me would be to surround myself with books all day. I pictured myself standing behind the checkout desk with the big stamp in my hand. I couldn't have possibly foreseen bar codes or laser scanners or computerized checkout in the early 70s.

One thing I was pretty sure I would never do is become someone's mother. When we played "house" during school recess, the Dad always pretended to kiss the Mom goodbye and leave for work swinging his pretend briefcase. Then a few minutes later, the Dad would reappear and say "honey, I'm home!" and eat his pretend dinner.

Depending on who was playing "house" that day, sometimes the Mom would pretend to be holding a baby. I was never the Mom or the baby in those pretend games. I was the sister, or the dog.

Pretend Dads did two things as far as I was concerned:go to work and come back home, or fix things around the house. There was no making of babies. My parents adopted the three of us. I never heard them have sex (gods forbid!) let alone EVER talk about it. I never saw my Mom hold a baby. So I never saw myself holding one either.

2. I always assumed I would be a career gal, if not as a librarian than as someone else. My Mom worked as a teacher for my whole life. Sure, she got home about the same time as we did every day, but she never went on field trips or volunteered in our classrooms. I had no idea what a Stay-At-Home-Mom even was. What the heck did they do all day? CLEAN?

3. I was never obsessed with cars like some of my high school friends, but there was a car that I always claimed was my "dream car". I was perfectly happy with my light blue Chevy Chevette, but what I really always wanted to own was a fire-engine-red Mustang Convertible with a white leather interior. The only thing I knew about convertibles at the time is that you had to wear a scarf around your hair and oversize sunglasses, and you had to put the top up in the rain. I wasn't thinking about things like whether or not it got good enough gas mileage to be affordable, or whether the trunk could hold a convertible stroller and a week's worth of groceries. Everyone I knew either drove a small economy car or one of those giant Chevy Caprice classics. No one drove a MomVan.

I don't really think in terms of what I want to be when I grow old. There is no time for wishing or hoping. It takes every ounce of my brain's memory and power to remember who has a doctor appointment or whether we're out of toilet paper. I would, however, still like to work as a librarian some day.