Even Worse if it's a Bloomin' Onion

I never thought of myself as a late bloomer. I've always been tall for my age (maxing out at 6' as an adult). I remember clothes shopping before freshman year of highschool and having several salesgirls ask me which college I was preparing to go off to. I've never been seriously carded for cigarettes (when I smoked, as a teen) or alcohol (unless the place has recently been shaken down, in which case even my 65 year old dad has to whip out his ID). I was advanced in reading, etc (your typical first born/only child early advantage - I'm no genius) blah blah blah ... suffice it to say, between my heighth and people telling me I seemed older than my age, I didn't think I'd ever fall into the late bloomer category.

And yet, here I am. Ok, so I'm 'on schedule' for some things - I married at 26 (almost 27), and I have a "career" kind of job. But. I have only just figured out what I wanted to do with my life, and I'm concerned that even that may change. I've figured these things out before, leaving behind me a trail of dead careers and identities. Oh, and did I mention, in the midst of this responsible married-ness and career, that I'm only just now completing college?

I can tell you, my grandfather would be rolling in his grave if he hadn't been cremated and scattered. Perhaps he's creating a furious dust tornado instead. Anyway, as an only child of a family of ancestors from various places (let's just say my family wasn't very discriminatory - if you weren't born in America, you were fair game, nevermind what little Poland and Scotland have in common. drinking?), it was up to me to be the first to attend and graduate college. Others had tried, all had failed. So the fact that I took off after no less than 3 different college attempts after highschool for Los Angeles to, um, pursue some other fancier dreams, would have killed grandpa if he wasn't gone already.

LA was good for me though. I finally figured out what finding yourself is. And I'm pretty sure I can assert with some authority that it does not include the following:
1) saying "I'm going to go find myself"
2) traveling to Europe on anyone else's dime
3) being concious of finding yourself in anyway; in fact, the more you're convinced you're just heading out on your own to have fun, probably the better*

Amazingly, part of finding myself was finding myself back in college, albeit with a full-time job and some good old adult responsibilities. And also finding I'm the idiot who bipassed the opportunity to have mom pay for most of my education while I supported myself part time at Starbucks. A lot of the time? Finding yourself is finding out you're an idiot.

Now I'm almost *cough*thirty*cough*, I'm in my second to last semester of college and feel like I'm almost definitely bound for grad school, having stumbled upon what I really want to do (which is, incidentally, exactly what I'd say I wanted to do if you asked me when I was 16. So basically, a lot of determining if you're a late bloomer or not is how long it took you to complete that circle). Of course, I'm also bound, hopefully, for motherhood (as long as reading about people's infertility problems isn't catching, but my they seem sadly prevelant, don't they?).

So am I a late bloomer? Maybe not in some instances. But when I'm in class, realizing I was actually where the rest of the students were 12 years ago, I certainly feel like one. And I'll admit, it's embarrassing. Although my husband, DJ (for DorkyJew), and I are ready to get started on having a kid so I can recreate all the neat things I'm learning in psych (kidding), the thought of being even a little bit pregnant for my last semester of school is unnerving. Like someone will come up to me with a flyer on repenting at the Wayward Home for KnockedUp Students. And yes, apparently all my anxiety imagination comes from 'Peyton Place'. It's really a standard I hold myself up to.

I figure I'll work it out here. I'm sure there would be plenty of people who could argue being an even later bloomer - "Ha! You think YOU'RE a late bloomer? I'm 74 and feel like I'm just now ready for a husband and some kids!" (do 74 year olds read blogs?) - I'll tell you why I feel like one: every time I look in the mirror, I feel like I'm still 16. (Read: I don't look 16 - I just feel like it). And all that uncertainty, coupled with that feeling that you've got nothin' but time, just floods me. And let's face it. That's a luxury only a 16 year old can have.

* Rule does not apply if your last name is Hilton, Richie, etc