I never quite figured out when I grew up. I am still not sure that I did. There are milestones placed throughout your lifetime that measure how “up” you are grown, and I have really not passed through them all yet. For example: I have yet to finish school, buy a house with a white picket fence, and magically obtain the crafty gene that every mother gets with the birth of their first child. I have not written a book, opened my own restaurant, or even caught a fish worth bragging about. So I have decided that I have not grown up.
Growing up is hypothetically easy. When I was little, I used to make lists in my head of what I would do when I was “grown up.” I used to put on as much make-up as I could, pad my bra, take off my glasses, and wear my tallest heels in front of the bathroom mirror to get a glimpse of what I would look like. I was sure that growing up would fix all my problems, but strangely they are still here.
I mean sure, growing up is great, and I wouldn’t change it for the world, but it comes with so much laundry. And dishes. And laundry! I never quite developed a dislike for folding clothes and towels until it seemed like every washable item in the house made it’s way into my washer time after time (you’re welcome for getting that song stuck in your head now). But despite the stress of searching for the lone baby sock that ran away and planning meals, all things that seem to come with “growing up,” it still feels like I am that 18 year old girl who left home to become a nanny exactly five years ago. Despite the bills, responsibilities, and life experiences, I still find myself Googling if and when I should sleep train my baby, the best way to clean ovens, and how to fold those silly sheets.
Who knows, maybe the world is full of grown ups who never really grew up. Maybe I am not alone in my loss of information that seems to come naturally to other adults. Maybe they are all really just as clueless as I– simply doing what they think is best. For me, though, growing up can wait. I still have many more chalk drawings to complete, more games of war to attend, and definitely more swings to swing on. And you can bet that I am not doing them alone. To all you other pretend grown-ups out there, you are welcome to join me and the rest of the neighborhood kids. Just make sure you bring your flashlight.