Now it's: do I need milk? did I pay the eye doctor bill? when is the warranty up on the fridge? The toilet is running, I should get new parts and fix it this weekend. Ooo...there is a sale on linens! And I'd love to say these are just examples thought up, but they are actual thoughts I have had in the last 2 weeks. Normal, everyday, real grown up thoughts.
I always assumed that growing up would happen with a life event to herald in this monumental life change.
Turning 18. That makes you a legal grown up. You can vote, join the army, enter into contracts. A full fledged 'grown up'. But it didn't feel so different than 17. Or 19 for that matter.
Going to college. Anyone who says that going to college is 'experiencing the real world' is lying. Perhaps it was the small, private, fairly isolated college I went to, but it was the furthest thing from being an adult. Living with your friends, only having 4 hours of class most days, maybe working 2 hours, and spending the rest of the night eating pizza, watching Friends, and 'studying' was the ultimate childhood sleep over for 4 years.
That first real job. Making an actual paycheck that will cover more than pizza and movies. Being partly responsible for the bottom line and day to day running on an actual company. Even getting an apartment and paying bills felt less than accomplished. I was still grasping for that grown up feeling.
Buying my first house. Signing the papers (and the heart attack that come with the final price after the interest). Being handed the keys. Even the very grown up house warming gifts of appliances and furniture. It was all very exciting, but it didn't feel any more adult (maybe because it was actually less money) than signing the student loans. I expected it to feel more. I expected the trumpets, the heart pounding, the 'now you are a real grown up' feeling. But it wasn't the light switch I was expecting.
Growing up was a quiet event. All the experiences of adult hood entwining together to form this strong, scarred, hodgepodged adult with a life full of responsibilities and obligation. Full of adventure, laughter, and friendship holding all the pieces together. Full of experiences, knowledge, and empathy sought out for advice and leadership. A beautiful, complicated, busy life.
Realization came the day I brought home my new puppy. The decision was not made in haste, it was measured and weighed. Would my 'first born' accept a new member into our pack? Was the energy level of the puppy compatible with the almost 6 year old? Could I reassure 'first born' that he was not being replaced? Would I be able to take the appropriate time during the day to walk and feed the puppy? Research was done for the best way to aid in the transition. Slow introductions were made. New items were bought weeks ahead of the puppy so the oldest could get used to their placement. We had sleepovers before bringing puppy home permanently. Family was introduced to puppy outside of the home so the oldest would't be jealous at the attention. There was a lot of excitement, but the transition was deliberate, careful, and well planned.
I sat on the couch the first night our pack was together, and it occurred to me that this was the most intentional decision I had ever made. Not which college. Not the house. Not even the 'first born' was made with such careful consideration. It wasn't about how cute the puppy was. It wasn't about how much I wanted the puppy. It was about considering how it would effect the 'first born'. It was how it would all fit together. I looked at the dogs asleep next to me, in the basement of my house, after a long day at work, and I realized: I wasn't sure when or how I got here, but I was here. I was officially a grown up. And I found peace in that thought. I have endured and weathered the constant battering of growing up, and now the foundation was solid. The waves will roll. They always roll. But I have survived. I am standing here with a confidence that only comes with experience. I'm proud of the scares. I'm happy to my bones. I have arrived. And I think I like it.
Turning 18. That makes you a legal grown up. You can vote, join the army, enter into contracts. A full fledged 'grown up'. But it didn't feel so different than 17. Or 19 for that matter.
Going to college. Anyone who says that going to college is 'experiencing the real world' is lying. Perhaps it was the small, private, fairly isolated college I went to, but it was the furthest thing from being an adult. Living with your friends, only having 4 hours of class most days, maybe working 2 hours, and spending the rest of the night eating pizza, watching Friends, and 'studying' was the ultimate childhood sleep over for 4 years.
That first real job. Making an actual paycheck that will cover more than pizza and movies. Being partly responsible for the bottom line and day to day running on an actual company. Even getting an apartment and paying bills felt less than accomplished. I was still grasping for that grown up feeling.
Buying my first house. Signing the papers (and the heart attack that come with the final price after the interest). Being handed the keys. Even the very grown up house warming gifts of appliances and furniture. It was all very exciting, but it didn't feel any more adult (maybe because it was actually less money) than signing the student loans. I expected it to feel more. I expected the trumpets, the heart pounding, the 'now you are a real grown up' feeling. But it wasn't the light switch I was expecting.
Growing up was a quiet event. All the experiences of adult hood entwining together to form this strong, scarred, hodgepodged adult with a life full of responsibilities and obligation. Full of adventure, laughter, and friendship holding all the pieces together. Full of experiences, knowledge, and empathy sought out for advice and leadership. A beautiful, complicated, busy life.
Realization came the day I brought home my new puppy. The decision was not made in haste, it was measured and weighed. Would my 'first born' accept a new member into our pack? Was the energy level of the puppy compatible with the almost 6 year old? Could I reassure 'first born' that he was not being replaced? Would I be able to take the appropriate time during the day to walk and feed the puppy? Research was done for the best way to aid in the transition. Slow introductions were made. New items were bought weeks ahead of the puppy so the oldest could get used to their placement. We had sleepovers before bringing puppy home permanently. Family was introduced to puppy outside of the home so the oldest would't be jealous at the attention. There was a lot of excitement, but the transition was deliberate, careful, and well planned.
I sat on the couch the first night our pack was together, and it occurred to me that this was the most intentional decision I had ever made. Not which college. Not the house. Not even the 'first born' was made with such careful consideration. It wasn't about how cute the puppy was. It wasn't about how much I wanted the puppy. It was about considering how it would effect the 'first born'. It was how it would all fit together. I looked at the dogs asleep next to me, in the basement of my house, after a long day at work, and I realized: I wasn't sure when or how I got here, but I was here. I was officially a grown up. And I found peace in that thought. I have endured and weathered the constant battering of growing up, and now the foundation was solid. The waves will roll. They always roll. But I have survived. I am standing here with a confidence that only comes with experience. I'm proud of the scares. I'm happy to my bones. I have arrived. And I think I like it.
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