Erin re-enters the blogosphere.

Well, well, well. This is my first post as Mrs. Zoutendam. We haven't posted in awhile because of the wedding, but a week later we're finally settling back into a routine. The students were ecstatic to see us back at school. They had two main concerns: how soon would I have pictures of the wedding and did we get peanuts on the flight? Barley is also forgiving us for leaving him for so long; he pouts most of the day but about four o'clock every morning he decides he's not above a good cuddle.

Today Philip and I completed a post-wedding task--spending wedding money. On the fun scale, I would rank it somewhere above registering and somewhere below people applauding when you eat cake (best part of the wedding, in my opinion). We think we spent $1000 today, none of it our own. Over dinner Philip and I agreed that we now feel like we're living in the veritable lap of luxury, event though we live in a one-bedroom apartment and make teaching salaries. Part of that is because we made some very Adult Purchases today (no, not like that). We are now the proud owners of an under-the-cabinet paper towel holder and a behind-the-toilet shelf. In my experience, only very established, wealthy, successful, mature people own products so specific to their purpose that it takes two hyphens just to name them. After all, does not the behind-the-toilet shelf loudly proclaim to all guests, "This family has arrived."?

I certainly have felt lately that we've been catapulted into adulthood. Legally we've been adults for four years, but I'm not sure that living with seven of your friends, eating in a cafeteria with a constant supply of fresh cookies, and napping for two hours each day really counts. To distinguish between legal adults and real adults, I had previously been making the distinction between People Who Make Grocery Lists and People Who Don't, but that definition wasn't airtight. I'm thinking about switching to People Who Own Knife Blocks (us! us!) and People Who Don't.

Another thing that makes me feel truly grown up is being around the students all day. There's a huge difference between the way that children and adults look at a 22-year-old. Just the other day I was having my bangs trimmed and the woman asked me why I had moved to Phoenix. I told her that it was to take a teaching job and she stopped snipping, looked at me dubiously, and said, "How old are you?" I told her I was 22 and she asked if the students treated me any differently because I was so young. I explained that no, we have a young faculty so they're used to it, and also, to them I am an Adult. Children don't have gradations within that category. All Adults are old, and that's that. Occasionally the students run into something puzzling about this way of thinking, but not often. For instance, they know I'm 22 and somehow it seems that most of them have unemployed 22-year-old sisters--and they can't quite figure out how I'm a teacher and their sisters are still living at home--but they seem to think I'm normal and their sisters are weird. ("My sister is more the drinking type," one told me quite candidly.) For the most part, the students see us as adults, and their parents apparently see us as mature enough to entrust their children to every day, and that's pretty validating.

Well, I think that's all for now. Excuse me while I go admire our duvet cover.


P.S. If you have a blog, please leave the address in a comment--we'd love to keep up with our friends' lives.