This is posted on my main blog and if you would like to comment, I would love if you would do so over there.

Most of the times in my life I feel every bit of the 33 years I have earned on this earth. Grown up responsibilities make us feel grown up right? But every once in a while, times like when I am loading the dishwasher, taking kids to school, or even putting Zakary to bed with one of my famous stories about pooping in the potty, the hilarity of what I am hits me full force.

I am a Mom...of 4 kids. Real live, breathing, thinking, actual human beings. I am married! Married!!. I run a house, and have my own car. I owe money...lots of money.

Ya see, I escaped moved from home when I was 17. For some reason, I guess I expected life in my childhood home to stop. Whenever I would visit home I was always shocked to see how much my father aged or that my old friends were married. It still happens to me.

I have a younger sister whom I don't talk about. It is not that I don't love her but more about where she is in her life right now that keeps her in my private thoughts. When I left home she was 13 years old. A baby. Her life was about 7th grade, band, and a boy my mother encouraged her to date.

I would visit a few times a year, feeling it my obligation to check in with my parents so I could give my step-mom a chance to look down on me or (my personal favorite) cook large porks roast every time I visited, accidentally I was always assured, for my future husband who does not eat pork. Can you say passive aggressive?

Each visit I would see my sister and marvel over the fact that she was becoming a woman. The boyfriend became more serious, she began smoking, and I was shocked at the level of freedom she was given compared to what I was allowed. At the time I can honestly say I was jealous but now I know I should not have been.

And as the years wore on, she took this freedom and ran with it. My little sister, the little baby I used to call fanny butt, and bathe with, and play with, started drinking and having sex with this great boyfriend that my Mom thought was perfect for her.

My sister continued to go down hill and her choices got more dangerous...and more destructive. It eventually caught up with her. Drugs, beatings, miscarriages because of the beatings, and many other things I am not ready to talk about yet. But still I would see her as that little 13 year old girl, shocked that she would even know how to do some of the things that she has done.

Frozen in time. And sometimes, I see myself like that too. Married at 18. Kids at ages 19, 22, 25, and 30. Mortgage, car loans, responsibilities coming out of every direction and I still sometimes feel like a kid. My father's gray hair, my mother's bad knees, and my Sister's son, when did this all happen?

Every time I blink, I swear Kamran grows another few inches or Sara's breasts get a little larger, And I think to myself, time moves too fast. Seems like not long ago I was just a kid in high school.

I wonder what it will be like to grow old and have grandchildren. Will this sensation grow even stronger and more persistent? It is not scary but can be sad at times, like looking at my father and knowing he will not be around much longer, or amusing, like when I have to look up to get on to Kamran about something. Will I still have moments where I feel like the world is moving at a faster rate then my life is? Do others experience this?