I always had this crazy idea that as I got older life would be better.

Yeah. Right.

If anything, as I get older, it gets harder with each passing day.

I constantly find myself wondering: "When did I grow up?" and, more importantly, "Why did I want to grow up so fast?"

Why did I think that broken hearts would be better than having a skinned up knee that only needed a band-aid to fix rather than time and tubs of Ben and Jerry's ice cream.

I'm no longer the naive child that I used to be (even though somedays I wish I was). I'd give anything for just one more moment spent in the bliss of childhood.

If I was a child again, I would beg my dad to check for the monsters underneath my bed before he tucked me in. It was my childhood innocence that let me think that those "monsters" were the worst that could be found in this world.

If I was a child again, I would be able to carelessly play outside for hours, enjoying every second until that dreaded moment when mom said that it was time to come inside. But instead, I now find myself working for hours a day and rarely playing.

If I was a child again, I would dread being told it was nap time because of the irrational fear that I would miss out on something. But now, I would give anything for a nap and a few moments of peace and quiet.

If I was a child again, I would cry tears over being told to go to bed when all I wanted was to stay up just a little bit later rather than over bills and broken-hearts.

If I was a child again, I would still have the childhood wonder that let me think that all people were good, that the world was full of endless opportunities, that life was fair, and that the most important man in the world wasn't a president but Santa Clause.

As I get older, I realize that I took for granted all the simplicity that goes along with being a child. Maybe it's because I'm afraid to grow up, to be completely on my own and to live my own life. If I could be the child that I was once was, just for one more day, I would take that chance in a heartbeat.

I'd go back to those days because I've realized that being an adult isn't all that I thought that it was cracked up to be.

Being an adult means realizing that life isn't fair and there isn't a lot that will go the way that you plan. It means you can't beg and plead to get what you want. It means you have to work for what you want and even then, sadly, you may not get it.

As an adult I've realized that the love and encouragement you receive from your family is the only thing is in world that you can be sure will always be there. As a child, you don't understand that the support you receive from them won't be given to you by everyone else you meet. You'll meet more people willing to break you down rather than build you up.

Being an adult also means facing the cold-hearted, "me-first" world. It means being forced to take on more responsibility (aka stress) than you ever knew existed and it means being pressured to meet all of the life milestones at the acceptable age like so many others around you are, even if you would rather not.

I don't know why I wished away my childhood or idealized being older because all I wish is for now is one more day of childhood.

So, until the day I'm finally my five-year old self again, I'll be the child I once was at heart. I'll carry around my kids lunch box, watch Disney movies regularly, and color outsides the lines in countless coloring books without anyone there to tell me that I can't. (On second thought, maybe being an adult isn't so bad after all).