Do I Have to Be a Grownup?

I am almost 30. Yikes, the thought of that still kind of gets me sad. But that’s okay; I’m working through it, trying to convince myself “the best is yet to come!”

But technically in all aspects of life I am considered an adult. I am married. I have kids. I own a home. I pay my own bills. I am an adult. And sometimes I really feel like I’ve got it all figured out. I feel like I can do this thing called life. I sometimes get a little big headed about it too, like yah world, you should be jealous, I have got this in the bag!

That is until reality knocks you back down. Quick.

Today I woke up with a sore throat. Immediately I call Jamey and cry (I always cry, so this isn’t abnormal for him to answer the phone to a crying wife.) I tell him I think I might be dying. When in reality, it is just a sinus headache and probably some drainage causing my throat to hurt a little – just not how I wanted to start my day.

But somehow I managed to peel myself out of my own misery and continue on with the insane life I lead. At some point this afternoon, as Brystol and I sat down at her dance class, my dear friend pointed out the smear of baby food I had on my jeans. I knew it was there; was just hoping no one would notice. But she definitely did.

When we got home from dance, we pulled up to a street full of our neighborhood friends out playing, so we immediately joined the fun. Well the kids had fun. I am constantly reminding them to not run into the street, to remember to share, and to not throw things over the fence. But they have fun, and as a bonus they burn some much needed energy before dinner. Eventually we as moms decide to all tell the kids together we have to go in for dinner. It makes it easier when it’s a group decision!

 

 

As for dinner, I am no chef, but I can follow a recipe. So as I am trying to quickly throw dinner together the doorbell rings. I rush to the door to find our sweet neighbors with a plate full of brownies! I love chocolate – it’s the way to my heart. So as I am trying to be as gracious as I can be, Bryn is screaming in her high chair because she ran out of puffs, and Bryson is screaming “help” from the backyard. I try to continue on like I can’t hear the chaos behind me. Then the dogs get out. Not just my dog, but our friend’s dog that we are watching, also. I will not be responsible for losing someone else’s dog. No way.

My neighbor saw the panic on my face and asked if I needed to go. I scooped up the baby, grabbed Bryson off of the top of the playhouse where he was stuck (you would think he would learn by now that he can’t get down from there,) and told the kids I needed help to get the dogs. We all start running down the street – me in my house shoes with a baby on my hip, Bryson shirtless, and Brystol barefoot. We were quite a show. It was a neighborhood effort but we eventually got the dogs back safe and sound. The neighbor quickly excused himself and we went on with making dinner.

I feel like once we sit down for dinner my marathon of a day is almost over. Dinnertime is my favorite. The kids can set the table, get their own milk, and say the prayers by themselves. We talk about our favorite part of our day, and our least favorite part. We share lots of laughter around our little kitchen table. I hope the stories we share at the dinner table are the memories the kids have of their childhood; not all the chaos of the day that leads up to dinner.


I am still working on this adult thing. Maybe one day I will get it, but for now, I spend most of my day feeling like a child trying to raise children. Maybe one day I will get to wear clean clothes and make gourmet dinners, but that time is definitely not right now.