I am short.

Betcha didn't know that, did you? I don't mind being short. I really don't. It feels very normal to me to have to look up at everyone when I want to carry on a conversation. The only thing I don't like about it is that because I have a very young-looking face, being short just adds to the fact that I easily look like I'm still in high school and worrying about whether I should wear the blue sweater or the red sweater today--and oh, maybe that boy in my math class likes me.

I feel like if you see me from the back, you automatically assume I'm still 16 and idolizing my fresh new driver's license (or maybe you think I'm twelve, in which case, I have nothing more to say about that).

One comment I get a lot--that is, everywhere I go--goes something like this:

Person A: Wow! You are really young!

Me: (Laughs) Yes, I know (hoping the person won't ask the next question that only some are polite enough to refrain from).

Person A: (Looks at the two kids I have with me and debates whether I'm the mom or the nanny). So, how old are you?

Me: (thinks briefly of claiming I just have a good plastic surgeon) Oh, I'm 22.

Person A now has multiple scenarios running through his or her mind: That I had the kids by accident and possibly had a shotgun marriage because of it (this is if they check for a wedding ring); that I am in way over my head and my kids will grow up to be juvenile delinquents (this could possibly be true); or that I am either some sort of crazy anomaly or just stupid.

After all this (quick) thinking, they come out with something like: ...Oh! Well, aren't these vegetables/clothes/dog food a great price?

Sometimes they seem to feel the need to give me some advice. I try to not assume this is because of my age, but it probably is. Sometimes they feel the need to talk about how wonderful motherhood is, which is something they would say regardless of my age, I would think. But sometimes they say it in a very particular way--that is, eying me as though to say: don't think about reverting back to your partying days just because this gets hard.

For as big of a deal I am making this sound, I really do take it all with a grain of salt. I am confident in my choices; I know they were right for me. I also feel very fortunate because I know many people out there who would make better parents than I, but who are finding having kids to be a little more difficult than expected, for whatever reason. I hope my age isn't a slap in the face to them, but I understand if it is.

I get a little picky about whether strangers are judging me based on my age or on my actions. Does this matter? No. But I think it bothers me because if you see me making a mistake with my children, I would rather you think "Oh, she shouldn't do X because of Y," not "Oh, she's young and immature and doesn't know any better." That's my oldest-child-syndrome pride for you.

But the one thing that makes me laugh is evidence of how youth-obsessed our culture it. For instance, you would never find me (or anyone else with a basic sense of decency) saying to a mom, "Wow, you look really old! How old are you?" I think we can all guess how that conversation would go. But it is okay to ask someone that bluntly about being young. I understand all the reasons why, I do, and I'm happy to accept them. I just wish people would realize that maybe I feel as self-conscious about my young age as many people do about their old(er) age.

(And for the record, just because I'm 22, I don't think people in their 30's are old.)

Someday I'll have wrinkles and gray hair and wonder why I ever thought so much about how I am so young and already at this stage of life. But until then, I'll indulge myself, and practice the decorum it takes to smile warmly and reply, "yes, I'm 22."