Average Adulting: A Review

Oh hello, it’s been a bit since I’ve popped in. Things have gotten busy. Both Bailey and I seem to have overlapping busy seasons, so….

It happens.

I should have expected it. I’ve always seen adults as I was growing up who were busy. They seemed stressed. They had a lot to do and never enough time to do it.

I never thought about how that would apply to me when I reached their age. Perhaps I just thought they had poor time management skills. Or it just didn’t sink in that I would be in a similar situation one day.

But here we are.

Sometimes I review how things are going for me as an adult/parent. All in all, I do ok. I put in a solid effort. Like I said, ok. So I thought I’d share my most recent observations on Amy as an adult. Here they are with no logical structure whatsoever:

1.       I have become a playground expert because we do not want to spend money on things when my child has the attention span of a goldfish some days. We once visited four playgrounds in one day. FOUR. There are probably 20 in the area that we’ve been to over the last year. And believe it or not, strategy is involved. Ask me about the importance of slides draining properly when it’s 6:30am and your kid wants to take a walk to the playground and everything is still covered in morning dew.

Slide fail. He still has no fear. One of the many reasons i love him.

2.       Weekday wine doesn’t have to be for something special. It can just be to congratulate yourself for surviving the day.

3.       I’m turning into my mother. Furthermore, I’m turning into my mother and I’m not particularly upset about it. The jury is still out how my husband feels about this recent development, but he and my mom get along well, so that’s a positive sign.

4.       Potty training hasn’t even truly started but I can already tell it’s going to scar all parties involved for life. We’re considering the “weekend from hell” method. We’re scheduling time to clean our carpets the following weekend.

5.       I hate cooking. Like really hate it. I’m lucky it’s 2019, because I’m pretty sure 60 years ago this would have kept me from ever finding anyone to consider me a desirable mate. As a side note, this is one way I am not like my mother.

6.       Having a vitamin D deficiency can really mess a person up. I now take a daily vitamin D supplement on top of a multi and am researching vitamin D light boxes for next winter. Seriously, guys. I can look back now and recognize the slow descent into feeling bad with no seemingly logical explanation for months. Takes just as long to climb out of it. Take your vitamins.

7.       I get daily reports from daycare about my kid and so I also get daily feelings of envy as I review my child’s nap report.

8.       Aimless lego stacking has become an important part of my work on my mental well-being. Crochet is clearly my primary method of destressing, but legos are a close second that have the double benefit of being an activity I can share with my child.

So there you have it. Some wisdom (or perhaps just a “heads up”?) you didn’t ask for.

Thank goodness for crochet, wine and legos, amiright?

-Amy

Wrinkles

I have wrinkles. 

Not a lot, but enough to be noticeable. Small ones. Mostly around the eyes. They’re starting to intersect each other. Like the road map of a city that has started to expand and grow its own suburbs. 

Wrinkles and the garter stitch- slow and steady. Their progress sneaks up on you…

It’s possible they came from my job, which is an endless cycle of massive deadlines. Just as I’m about to get through a particularly brutal one, another one pops up for the next week. Rinse and repeat. 

It’s possible they came from my husband. By marrying him, I’ve set myself up for an entire lifetime of heckling about my driving and the constant annoyance of dishes piling in the sink. 

It’s possible they came from my son, who has meltdowns over things like his piece of toast tearing into two pieces and me not being able to magically fuse it back together even if IT STILL TASTES THE SAME AND THE END GOAL IS TO EAT IT ALL SO IT WON’T EVEN MATTER.

Sorry guys. Lost myself for a second. We get really passionate about toast around these parts. 

Our issues with toast may be directly related to my coffee consumption. #serenitynow

Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. And since I haven’t quite come around to the idea of botox, the wrinkles are seemingly here to stay. 

So instead I have to find a way to embrace them. Perhaps connect good things that come from the decades of stress. 

With each work deadline comes a sense of accomplishment after I’m done. The wrinkles also represent the promotions I’ve received from hard work and dedication to a company I love. 

I’m now basically too anxious to drive with anyone ever because of the endless jabs, but I also have had 7 years of support and love and a few thank yous for when I decide enough is enough and load the dishwasher myself. 😏

And sure, there are terrible two meltdowns on the regular, but I’ve also got a toddler who grabs my wrinkly face and plants kisses on it *almost* daily (he was really upset with me over the toast thing). 

So yeah. My wrinkles are what they are. I guess I’ll own up to them and accept them as a fact of  life. Same as my upcoming, inevitable dive into the mid-30’s scene happening this summer. 

Or…

Or I’ll continue to assault them with every single serum and treatment I can get my hands on at Sephora for the rest of my life. 

Yeah, I’ll probably do that. 

– Amy 

More Old Lady Musings

My partner in crime posted last week about how she went out for St. Patrick’s Day, but felt a little old. 

I had a good laugh with her because we happened to go out on that Sunday for drinks, but it just randomly happened to be the day my mother-in-law could watch Henry for a few hours. And we chose an extremely non-irish bar so we could keep away from the crowds. 
We don’t like sharing space with strangers. Or new people. 
I’m not really sure why we even bothered going out at all. Because afterwards, we complained about the bar tab and how we should have just had a few drinks at home. 
Which is how I know I’m old. 

Or should I know I’m old because of my hobbies?

I also know I’m old because I get my annual skin screening and had an in-depth conversation with the doctor about Retin-A. 
We’re well past the “make sure you wear sunscreen and moisturize” days and have entered the “Retin-A will need to be used soon to maintain where you’re at and maybe you want to consider lasering off those red spots you’ve developed over the last year?”.
And in related news, my knees have cracked since I was pregnant and I’m also starting physical therapy for lower back pain due to slight arthritis in my lumbar area. ARTHRITIS.    
It’s always been fun to joke about being an old lady trapped in a young person’s body, but at what point do I become an old lady trapped in an old lady’s body? (also known as “just old”). 
To be honest, I’m not really sure the point of this post other than just me having a desire to complain about the inevitable destruction of my youth. 
Ironic, given I’ve watched more cartoons in the last year than I have in the previous decade. 
But that’s ok. With the getting older comes other things. Like having an adult beverage whenever I want. Or skipping making my bed. Or not doing the laundry because I’d prefer to zone out on Netflix after a long day. 

Or crocheting, because, you know…

I guess it’s just a little bit of give and take. 
And I’ll take the option where I can have prosecco with brunch any time over having to stick with milk or juice.