All Signs Point to Grown-Up

Yesterday, I was with my two wonderful children at church, having weathered another Sacrament Meeting with only myself, my dear mother, an assortment of stuffed toys, repulsive toddler "candy," and purple knock-out gas to get Princess (3) and Sven, Jr. (15 months) through the service without causing more distraction than a medium sized elephant crashing through the cultural hall (what we LDS call a gym).

My mother teaches the adult Sunday School class, so after Sacrament Meeting, I hand Sven Jr. off to a dear friend, Calliope, and Princess and I go to Primary (ages 3-12) where she attends class and I play the piano.

This is our routine, and I've become accustomed to it.  So accustomed, in fact, that it flabbered my considerably exhausted gast when I was approached, during the hand-off, by a member of the Bishopric, Brother Coolguy.

"I need to talk to you," he said to me.  My eyes widened.  "Oh, yeah," he said, "your eyes should get wide.  I hope you've enjoyed your break, we're going to put you to work."  Calliope looked on, amused.  "But I have to talk to you first," Brother Coolguy said to her.  Ha ha!  I was amused at Bro. Coolguy's admirable diversion, but my stomach was still in knots, wondering what was coming.

You see, in the LDS church we all kind of split up the jobs, rotating them so that everybody gets a chance to do everything eventually.  We're asked to do the jobs by a member of the Bishopric.  No one is paid in our church, and no one is forced to accept an assignment.  However, when a member of the Bishopric approaches you with that special look and says, "Say, I'd like to talk to you in private for a minute," you get those butterflies that say to you, "things are about to change."

So, yesterday I was asked to accept a new calling.  It's not official, so I can't go into specifics, but I will say this: this is the first time since the age of 18 that I've gotten a calling that does not involve playing the piano.  I am super excited.

But, this new calling makes me realize something: this is a real calling, like the grown-ups have.  I remember my mother having this calling.  I remember all of the wonderful ladies I grew up admiring having this calling.  This calling means I am now a grown up.

In timing that I'm not at all sure is coincidental, Princess is getting her grown-up bed today, and last night Sven, Jr. slept in his toddler bed for the first time.

Is this how it happens?  Yesterday I was piercing my own nose and sighing with plaintive angst over the Cure.  Today I'm a mom of two researching teething remedies on the internet and comparing the effectiveness of iron supplements.

It's all as it is supposed to be, I know...but the time is going by so fast.