This whole grown-up thing...
This is one of those times where I feel like I haven't quite mastered this whole grown-up thing. I envy Marie's frequently-expressed relief that she's moved back home with us and no longer worries about money, making ends meet... essentially, she's put off being an on-her-own adult for another little while.
I wish I could move back in with my parents. Except, how weird would that be - lack of, you know, actual existing parents aside. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't know what to do with parents if I did have them. But if they were anything like how Calvin and I are toward our kids, my parents could be counted on to pick up the pieces, kiss the boo-boos, ride to the rescue, and provide the vehicle for bailing me out of pretty much any situation.
Heh. How backwards is that. If I had a mom I'd want her to be just like me.
Maybe that's a little sad, too, as well as backwards. Perhaps I should not dwell on that thought.
It's not that I don't like being an adult. I wouldn't go back to being a teenager if my life depended on it. Okay, well perhaps ONLY if my life depended on it. My teenage years, wonderful though many aspects of them were, weren't exactly what I would call fraught with fond memories. I was overly serious, studious, responsible, and worried. Very representative of the attitudes that are continuing on to this day. The difference is, when you're a responsible teenager people express their admiration at the wonder and rarity that is you. When you're a responsible adult, well, you're just doing your damn job.
I need to stop comparing my attitudes as a teenager and young adult to the attitudes of the teenager and young adult I'm occupied with parenting. I've turned into one of those, "Back in MY day, things were different," sorts.
Which isn't to say (again) that I'm looking for accolades. Really, I'm just rambling along with this entry. I do a lot. I don't do enough. I'm busy. I'm bored. I want to be flippin' patted on my head and told I'm doing a good job. I want to be told everything's going to be okay. I want to be surrounded by loved ones. I want to be left alone. I want to have control. I want to be taken care of. I want to be a center of calm. I want to throw a massive tantrum.
Apparently, I want to be conflicted. Mostly, I want to turn off my brain.
I wish I could move back in with my parents. Except, how weird would that be - lack of, you know, actual existing parents aside. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't know what to do with parents if I did have them. But if they were anything like how Calvin and I are toward our kids, my parents could be counted on to pick up the pieces, kiss the boo-boos, ride to the rescue, and provide the vehicle for bailing me out of pretty much any situation.
Heh. How backwards is that. If I had a mom I'd want her to be just like me.
Maybe that's a little sad, too, as well as backwards. Perhaps I should not dwell on that thought.
It's not that I don't like being an adult. I wouldn't go back to being a teenager if my life depended on it. Okay, well perhaps ONLY if my life depended on it. My teenage years, wonderful though many aspects of them were, weren't exactly what I would call fraught with fond memories. I was overly serious, studious, responsible, and worried. Very representative of the attitudes that are continuing on to this day. The difference is, when you're a responsible teenager people express their admiration at the wonder and rarity that is you. When you're a responsible adult, well, you're just doing your damn job.
I need to stop comparing my attitudes as a teenager and young adult to the attitudes of the teenager and young adult I'm occupied with parenting. I've turned into one of those, "Back in MY day, things were different," sorts.
Which isn't to say (again) that I'm looking for accolades. Really, I'm just rambling along with this entry. I do a lot. I don't do enough. I'm busy. I'm bored. I want to be flippin' patted on my head and told I'm doing a good job. I want to be told everything's going to be okay. I want to be surrounded by loved ones. I want to be left alone. I want to have control. I want to be taken care of. I want to be a center of calm. I want to throw a massive tantrum.
Apparently, I want to be conflicted. Mostly, I want to turn off my brain.
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