I was in my early 20s when I use to laugh at women getting kitchen essentials as Christmas gifts. I was dead serious when I told my husband, “don’t ever buy me plates for Christmas!” Today I retract those words. I am still hoping someone will gift me a spatula. I may have broke mine like 8 months ago and haven’t replaced it. But looking back now, I don’t even remember the exact moment I became an “adult.”
I mean what really classifies as being an “adult.”
Could it be my first, big financial decision?
Or that time I brought another human into world?
Possibly it was when I tried to kill a black widow by myself.
However, those moments didn’t exactly scream, “You are officially an adult now!”
My husband and I were in our mid 20s when we decided it was time to buy a house. My first thought when we bought our house was, “OMG, OMG, OMG we are in debt for the rest of our lives.” I was literally shaking while trying to talk my husband out of deal. I mean it’s a big step up from renting. It means more responsibility. But the good thing is my feeling of uneasiness has subsided. Now, if I can just keep up with my weeds in the front yard before I get another HOA warning.
Then there is being a mom.
Half the time I’ve got it together. The other half I find myself negotiating dessert and bath time. Sometimes I forget that I’m this amazing “adult” who can say “no.” I can tell my kids to turn Coco off. I mean nothing changes after twenty times. But do I dare? Absolutely not. I’ve always heard that raising kids gets easier with time. I find that to be the complete opposite. If anything, raising babies and toddlers is no match to a soon to be pre-teen. Sometimes I can’t help but wonder how my dad handled my brother and I. He was definitely the definition of #adultgoals. But weren’t all our parents?
Lastly, my archnemsis the black widow.
First off, they really are amazing creatures. But they just can’t be at my house. The first time I ever encountered a black widow by myself, I died. After dark no one was allowed to use the front door. And during the day we had to run to the door. My husband got tired of my shenanigans and told me it was time to kill it. His exact words were “it’s time to be an adult!” So our tools required raid, a broom, and a huge rock. First, I sprayed the black widow with the whole can. Then my husband crushed it’s hump with the end of a broom and left a big rock on it.
That’s it. We did it! Once you kill your first black widow, you’re basically ready for retirement. You’ve graduated to adulthood. Or so I thought. The next night two more black widows moved in. I was done. That’s what led me to buy my house and move onto phase two of adulthood, debt. I’m only kidding. I called pest control and stayed inside until they were done.
Moral of this Adult Story
I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like an adult. But this adult journey so far has been an amazing one. I may never get it together, or maybe I will. One thing I know is that buying a house is not going to be my forever debt, but my investment. My children are happy, healthy, and will always keep me on my toes. Lastly, I have yet to see a black widow this year, and that makes me happy. Being an adult isn’t always about feeling like an adult. Sometimes being an adult means accepting the unexpected and embracing life with open arms. We have to remember to enjoy our journey and remember that it’s not race.