Childing 101


I love that we have begun using “adult” as a verb.  Take note of this definition from Urban Dictionary:

Adulting (v): to do grown up things and hold responsibilities such as, a 9-5 job, a mortgage/rent, a car payment, or anything else that makes one think of grown ups.

Used in a sentence: Jane is adulting quite well today as she is on time for work promptly at 8am and appears well groomed.

Here’s the thing:  I think I’m actually moving backwards. Regressing.  Retreating.  Re…childing.  Is that a thing?  Maybe I’m not adulting anymore.  Maybe I’m childing.  I feel more like a child today than I ever have.  As the old saying goes…the proof is in the pudding.

Here’s my pudding.

College Michelle – worked full time, didn’t drink, didn’t sleep around, was in a serious, committed relationship, managed a 4.0 most of the time, had an apartment, a car payment and a dog, showed up for my 8 am classes smelling and looking good

“Adult” Michelle – works random part time jobs, drinks a little most times, drinks a lot sometimes, flirts all the time (my husband is aware), doesn’t really pay any bills, spends her time writing angry poetry, spends her time working on a novel, goes to the bus stop in pajamas with crazy bed head and is obsessed with running

What the hell happened?  Did I adult too young?  I think the answer is yes.  I didn’t have the typical college experience. Not to say that everyone has to go out and get rowdy to have a good time in college, but, the truth of the matter is, I love to get rowdy.  So why didn’t I?  I don’t know how to answer that.

Why have I reverted now?  Well, I’m sure that question is best answered by my therapist, but maybe I feel like I missed out on something.  I didn’t indulge in the selfish behavior one is supposed to indulge in during their 20s so they can get it out of their system.

Perhaps my “childing” is a result of feeling like I never got to be selfish.  The problem is….I have kids, and a husband.  I really can’t afford to be really selfish.  So, I take my selfishness where I can get it.  I write, I run, I drink, I flirt.  And I try to balance it all with taking care of my family.

These are all total random thoughts brought on by a conversation I had with a friend this morning about sleeping in. They said,”I had my fair share of sleeping in days.”  My first thought was I didn’t.  I never did.  I was responsible.  So, today perhaps I will lay in bed, watch movies, nap, eat nachos.

That would be childing 101….hiding in bed to avoid whatever it is I’m trying to avoid.  Alas, there are things to be done. So maybe I will write and lay in bed before I run.

I need a new verb.  I’m not adulting yet I can’t fully child. Any suggestions?


Random thoughts about weirdness

I’m weird.  I admit this.  I accept this. I embrace it.  Hell, I enjoy my weirdness.

I label myself with the title weird because this is how I think some people view me.  What seems “weird” to them is just who I am. I say what I feel, I won’t lie about it, and I won’t tell you something because I think you want to hear it.  I don’t have much of a filter.  I love meeting new people and, if I think you are fun, I will tell you and ask you everything I’ve ever wanted to know about you within 30 seconds of meeting you.  I love my family and friends with a passion and will do whatever to protect them.  I love to have fun.  If I see an empty laundry cart at a hotel and I think I can get away with it and won’t damage it, I will jump in it and ride it up and down the hallways.  I want to go everywhere and see everything.

I’m intense. This can be overwhelming to some people and I should apologize for it if it makes them uncomfortable, but I can’t.  This is me.  Accept it.  Embrace it or don’t embrace it.  Doesn’t much matter to me.  I’m not changing and if you are waiting for that to happen, well don’t hold your breath.  I’m 40 and I’m really comfortable in my own skin.

Now, for the best part.  My kids are weird.  They let their weirdness shine wherever we are and I look at this as a testament to good parenting. They are comfortable enough with themselves to let the weird out in front of anyone.  Honestly, I think it’s because they don’t know any different.  Mommy doesn’t much filter the stuff she says or the things she does, so why should they?

So, if you see me in the grocery store dancing up and down the aisles, if we run into each other at Walmart and I am calling to my children using our secret signal, if I meet you and ask you where you grew up, if you have any pets and if you want to get together and watch scary movies, I’m not sorry.  It’s me.