Why is it that I hate growing up so much? Too many un-fun things to worry yourself with: the balance of your checkbook, the upkeep of your house, and the constant tug-of-war between your selfish self and your altruistic self. Oh. And doing dishes. I don’t know why I despise standing over the sink, hands in hot suds, scrubbing away at each and every dish we’ve used over the past 12 hours, but I do. Ask my mom, roommates or my husband. I was never the most detail-oriented when it came to doing dishes! This, I tell him, is why I need a dishwasher. Doesn’t seem to work, at least not yet. I just wanna sleep in, just wanna get on a plane with some friends and go to some exotic locale, just wanna blow our money on clothes! I think the transition from kid to adult was accelerated when we had our baby, but boy have I been dragging into it kicking and (inside) screaming! Wouldn’t trade it, though, so don’t get any ideas. Or tell Rhys.
There are good things about being an adult, though. When it comes to our daughter, I (we) am the boss! To her, I am the final say. Which is great but heavy at the same time. I get about 10 years of her absolute adoration – until she figures out that I don’t really know everything, and – horror of horrors – finds that I probably made a mistake (or two) in how we raised her. Another good “adult” thing: I can eat whatever I want, whenever I want! Seriously, how cool is that? If I want to order pop with my dinner, I can! (but it’s usually iced tea, so don’t worry, Mom) And if, right before bed I want to eat a quart of Reese’s ice cream, I can (and suffer the sugar high and heartburn, but it’s my prerogative)!
OK – since I’m whining, you tell me what you hate most about being a grown-up, and what you like best.