Sanity or Patience: choose one.

Do you ever have one of those moments where you think, "HA! I am sane!" Then you step in dog poo with your bare feet and remember it was your idea to get the puppy...?

Friday, September 13

Grown-Up Things

Responsible. Reasonable. Mature.


I don't want to be any of those things today.

A grown-up wakes up at 4 a.m. with heartburn and it takes a half hour of middle-of-the-night introspection to realize she's anxious because she is halfway through her thirties and what the hell has she done with her life?

A mature wife doesn't make her husband drink the "other" coffee because she wants the good stuff all to herself.

Reasonable women clean the 5 dog turds off their kid's bed right away this morning - and while the good coffee gets cold - because waiting would be gross. A reasonable mother would not dump the dog at a farm, tell her kid it pooped itself to death, and quietly celebrate the end of having to worry about dog barf seeping into her couch.

A grown-up would agree to take her son Subway for lunch, because he wants to celebrate her birthday with her. She wouldn't even think about how she doesn't really even like Subway and she might want to stay home and read a book and pretend her house is still as clean as it was yesterday before anyone else came home!

Just for one day, I'd like to be the opposite of those things. One day to be selfish, childish, immature and completely unreasonable. Just one day to pretend I'm not closing in on middle-age. Channel my self-consumed 19-year-old self who would simply throw the mattress out with the sheets and not even know the difference between great coffee and gas station decaf.

I want to talk my husband into skipping work and lounging around the house with me, eating Spaghettio's from the pot and wearing nothing but a blanket.

I want to get in my tiny car and race through the back roads in the boonies where I grew up, and the words "safety" and "insurance" to not even occur to me.

I want to feel embarrassed by my mother, because that is absolutely less humiliating than being the mother in that scenario.

Most of all, after that one day, I wish for everything to return to normal, because suddenly I remember that I like myself better now than I did when I wasn't quite grown-up.

Happy birthday, self. May your candles blow and your day not suck.

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