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Please Take My ID!

It happened. I got older. I can’t tell you the exact moment that this occurred, but I think it might have been sometime after having kids. Children will do that to you. Make you older when you least suspect it. They will also make you excessively tired with body parts that bounce when they aren’t supposed to bounce, and give you a constant need to pee. 

Look, everyone gets older. I get that. I just don’t always want to be reminded of that pesky little fact of life.  

On Friday, once Benjamin was on the bus, I had about a hour-half of kid-free time to run some errands before picking up Nicholas at preschool. Where to go without kids on a Friday? The Wine and Spirits Store, of course. Going to the wine store with kids is not a pleasant experience, and not just because of the glass bottles everywhere (Keep your hands in your pockets!!!). I feel strange dragging my boys along with me to buy wine, even if consumed, ahem, responsibly and in moderation. Bringing the kids into the wine store is like wearing a sign around my neck that says, “This is why I consume alcohol”.

Just kidding boys. I love you tons and tons. And you don’t really drive me to drink. Honest.

In any case, last Friday I dipped into the store to buy a bottle or two. I quickly made my way to the cash where the man in front of me was being carded. I’m not a great judge of age, but he looked to be older than 21. I got a little excited; Ooooh, they’re carding today. Yes! Wait until I tell Pierre that I was asked for my ID. Woo-hoo!! Clearly, I was going to leave out the part about others being asked for their ID too.

When it was my turn at the cash, I opened my wallet, fully prepared to produce my date-of-birth, when the cashier (who looked barely legal) said, “That’ll be $25.46, ma’am”.

Oh, you want to see my ID? I suppose I can pull it out if you absolutely need to….WHAT!!!

Excuse me? That’ll be $25.46, ma’am? MA’AM?! Whatever happened to, “Could I see your ID please, miss.” Miss. Ma’am. It sounds so strange. When on earth did I become a ma'am?  Probably around the same time that I had kids(and yes, I know that he called me ma’am because I’m older than he is, but did he have to be so darn polite?).

Are you sure you don’t want to see my ID? I don’t have any children with me today. And I’m wearing make-up. Straightened my hair. Exercised this morning. Have on a scarf that brightens up my face. No? Really? Not even so that I can tell my husband that someone thinks I might look younger than 21? A pity-carding? No. Alright. Here’s my credit card instead. I won’t beg. I have some pride.

Maybe.

In all seriousness (and this post has very little seriousness thus far), it’s been a great long while since I’ve been carded. I don’t expect to be anytime soon either. And truthfully, I’m okay with that. I’m also okay with getting older (most of the time). I like my thirties. I love my husband and my boys, my family and my life. I’ve met amazing people whom I have the privilege of calling friends. My skin is finally clear (finally!!). I’m figuring stuff out, learning more about who I am, and getting closer to the person that I want to be. If being called ma’am is a consequence of getting to this place in my life, then I’ll take that ma’am and wear it with pride…

…and keep my ID in my wallet, where it belongs.

xo Naomi

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