A Kid, a Chicken, and a 30 something

You know you have an issue with something when you have to fight off the urge to tell a nine year old in Smith's Market Place the advantages of getting married later in life. Today, I recognized the fact that maybe I wasn't as prepared for my 30's as I thought. While I perused the most recent Rachel Ray cooking magazine, I overheard a child ask a woman. "What's your name?"

This is a basic question that seems harmless enough, but has the tendency to lead to more complex simple questions. The child followed with, "How old are you?" The woman's response, "I'm 30 years old, that's old isn't it." (No. It is not for those of you out there that are thinking the woman was right.)

And then came the fatal question, direct from the child's mouth. "How many kids do you have?"

"None."

It should have been fine, and I realize there are many people in this world that are thirty and don't have kids. But it must be stated that I live in Utah, were sad to say, it seems to be an anomaly to be 30, female, and not be married with children.

It was the child's way of saying, "None! You don't have one son or daughter?" as if she might go into shock at any moment. As I made the effort to control the urge to shout, "Come off it kid, we're not that old, we have plenty of time." I recognized a nagging issue I had put in the back of my mind, that even a nine year old could recognize.

Certain aspects of the last few weeks came sweeping over me:
1) I have been hit on by more older men (and when I say older I mean around 30 years older than myself) in the last few weeks. The typical response from them when asked, "And can I get you anything for dessert tonight?"--it should be stated that I am a server--is, "I'd love to have you for dessert." Really guys, at any age this is not the best pick-up line.

2) My attempt to cook a whole chicken turned into a chic flick fiasco. In short, I was running back and forth from my apartment to my neighbors with a chicken in a roasting pan, my downstairs in total darkness due to the fact that I blew an electrical fuse, my mother laughing hysterically at me while I ran, because, of course, I thought I should hold my cell phone between my ear and my shoulder as I carried a whole half cooked chicken across the lawn. I didn't have a date insight, and I realized that whenever the chicken was finished cooking I still didn't know how to carve the damn thing. (Book to be written for the future I'm sure :))

3) I had a strange feeling that being part of the High School Musical film would be fun, the only problem was that I didn't know if I could still pull off playing a giddy teenager.

And there I was, stunned as always at how much youth can teach an adult. You will be proud to hear that I did hold my tongue. I continued flipping the pages of the magazine, looking for my next culinary adventure, acting as if the child's words had not affected me. And I realized that 30 just brings a lot more questions and thus far not to many solid answers.