I Know I’m Adulting Because…

In the last couple of years, it hit me pretty hard that I was finally doing all of the adult activities like paying bills, parenting, working full time, paying a mortgage. You know, that typical stuff that seems so great when you’re an angst-filled teen who can’t wait to be all grown up. It just all kind of happened naturally, so it didn’t take me by surprise.

But what I didn’t anticipate were the little random things that made me stop and think, “huh, I really sound like my {insert relative}” or “when did I get old?” Little things like:

I mostly drive the speed limit now.

I buy vegetables. On purpose. Things like Brussels sprouts, kale, and beets get consumed voluntarily instead of forcibly. To be fair, bacon and butter helped this happen.

I find myself constantly yelling things like “CLOSE THE DOOR, you’re letting all the cold air out” “It’s a refrigerator, not a TV” and “Put on long sleeves, because if I’m cold, you’re cold!”

I used to loathe NPR. Talk radio was a surefire way to get me to go to sleep. Now I can’t wait for the next episode of This American Life to auto-download in my Podcasts.

I see teenagers in skimpy outfits and I wonder when kids these days started wearing things so short. Then I look back at pictures of myself and realize I did the same thing.

I’m officially worth more dead than I am alive thanks to the life insurance policy I purchased a few years back. Don’t get any ideas, kids. It still ain’t much.

My internal clock wakes me up at 7:30 on the days I am supposed to be able to sleep late.

My back hurts. I have a chiropractor on speed dial and a heating pad in both my office chair and my bed.

I know I'mAdultingBecause...1More than four drinks guarantees me a 24 hour hangover. A McDonald’s happy meal, two Advil, and a nap no longer cure me of my woes. If I get crazy, it’s 36 hours of misery and an entire pizza. Except now, my metabolism can’t handle a whole pizza.

I like to run. The only time I ran before I turned 28 was for a grade in gym class or if someone was chasing me.

There are items of technology I do not care to learn about. Amazon Echo? Um, what? You young whippersnappers take your new-fangled hoodoo and get off my lawn. 

I suddenly care about the offensive nature of the lyrics to my beloved hip-hop songs. HE SAID WHAT?!? ::clutches pearls:::

I can answer a question about my body’s “regularity” with certainty.

I’ve got a single stray hair on my neck that requires attention. It’s not there for months and then BAM! Overnight it’s three inches long, and in my head I screech ohmygodwherearethetweezersicantletanyoneseethis!

Boring gifts suddenly become really exciting. Towels and new underwear for Christmas? Yes, please! A new lawnmower for the husband’s birthday? Sure, honey! New washer and dryer for my anniversary? I WISH!

The clothing catalogs for places I once swore I wouldn’t purchase from suddenly seem, dare I say, fashionable … as well as comfy. Land’s End & Talbot’s are on to something, mark my words.

So, uh, if you guys need me, I’ll be nursing my hangover in my pajamas, with the cup of coffee that keeps me regular, yelling at the crazy kids on their skateboards to put on a sweater, because if I’m cold, they’re cold. Hrumph.

Lindsay
Lindsay is a native New Orleanian, displaced only by her years at Mississippi State, where she earned a B.S. in Wildlife and Fisheries and a minor in English. She came home shortly after Katrina, to work as a zookeeper and be a part of the rebuilding of her beloved city. She dragged her husband Drake, a Tennessee native, along with her. Their son Bennett joined the family in 2010, and in 2014 they welcomed identical twin girls, Genevieve and Kellen Clair. She now works full time as an Environmental Scientist and part-time as NOM’s resident Jill of All Trades. Powered by espresso, cake, and craft beer, her happy place is on a beach or in the woods. Need to identify a plant, tree, or animal? Lindsay’s a wealth of random knowledge. She loves to cook and sprinkle a little glitter on everything.

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