It’s a word often used as a verb these days – adulting – a relative new entry in the vast lexicon of modern day language. It means to conduct oneself in a responsible, mature and correct manner. Adulting is all about being in charge, taking care of business, getting shit done, dotting i’s, crossing t’s and keeping all your ducks in a row. Without breaking a sweat.
EXCUSE ME, THIS IS NOT WHAT WAS IN THE GLOSSY BROCHURE! I DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR THIS! NOOOOO!
There’s a saying: ‘Careful what you wish for.’ Because often the Universe may decide to give it to you; it’ll toss you a curve ball to see you sweat, just for the hell of it. Adulting is what the young always yearn to do, because they think it’s all about having the freedom to choose without any restriction. Isn’t it obvious, they ask? I know what I’m doing, stop trying to tell me.
But a rueful irony awaits, once they finally get there – the sudden discovery they didn’t actually think about or want, ALL of the responsibility, ALL of the time.
I am, of course, saying all this with tongue firmly planted in my cheek! It’s a part of life, growing up and learning to build and create a life, as well as look after yourself. Most days I do it reasonably well but some days I’m really shit at it. And that’s okay, because I know there’s always another chance to do it better tomorrow. I do find however managing the daily practice of of ‘adulting’ can be eased and in fact, enhanced with a little humour. And perhaps a red wine or two.
My girlfriends and I have had fun with this idea when we’ve been out in the past, joking with the security staff as they check for underage patrons. ‘Go on, I know you want to ask… let me get my ID out for you.” To their credit, they usually keep their comments to themselves and merely respond like the smart arse penguin from the Madagascar movies:
…no doubt of course, wishing their own mothers were as hip and chill in their pre-adulting skills as my girls and I are. Regardless that the days of being asked for age ID are so long ago for us the ship has not only sailed but is scuttled and now used as a diving wreck. Ahem.
But I digress.
My boys are at varying stages of the adulting spectrum. My youngest is still at school, middle son already with a year in the workforce under his belt and my eldest right in the thick of it, recently moved into a new house with his beautiful girl and both of them adjusting to life with the trifecta of a mortgage, bills and responsibility. How things have changed! Exciting times.
This post and today’s selection for Music for Monday was inspired by a song I heard on the radio on my way home from work… before I went to pick up a load of firewood, race into the supermarket to pick up a few things for dinner, pay three bills via Netbank and answer emails. All tasks carried out by me. (see: adulting).
Happy Monday, peeps.
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