Today is Clif and my 8 year anniversary. Eight years ago today we stood in front of our family and friends and promised for better or for worse to love and cherish one another.
Even when marriage is easy it's hard. I would say that Clif and I have an easy relationship. We don't argue a whole lot. We're both fairly easy going. And when it's just me and Clif, our marriage is a piece of cake.
Seven years ago, we went out to dinner and I was super pregnant with Ainsley. My due date just one month away. Even though I was swollen and cranky and tired and huge...that was so very easy. And all those dinners and nights out and conversations and parties and concerts and trips were so easy before kids came into the picture.
Last year, we spent our anniversary in the hospital with our 1 day old. We watched movies, held Cohen, and napped most of the day. That also was pretty easy.
But I would say that most days are not so easy. I love my husband and he loves me, but day to day life is hard. Conversations are practically non-existent. Date nights are few and far between. We don't have the time or money for them. We have not taken a trip, just the two of us, since our honeymoon. Again, that pesky time/money/babysitter issue.
I am not saying that this is the "worse" in for better or worse, but I also wouldn't call it the better. We always put off date night for kids events and activities. Spend our date money on new shoes or school pictures or soccer registration when it's needed.
And I'm not complaining. We love our kids. Life is hectic and crazy, but we love it. The problem is that it's not easy to remember to love and cherish when you're busy bathing and soothing and cooking and cleaning and commuting and working. I can see where it would be very easy to forget those vows and instead, resort to nagging and resenting. We know that we're supposed to make time for one another and keep the foundation of our family - our marriage - strong, but time is something we don't have a lot of. Maybe we'll be able to go out to dinner at some point to celebrate our anniversary, but maybe not. And if we do, it may not be until mid July or August.
This morning, I woke up after a very difficult night. Clif was getting ready for work. Cohen was sleeping in the bed between us. The two older kids were still in their beds. I was home because, well, I'm out of work once again today. I woke up pissed off, in fact, I'm still pissed off. See this year for our anniversary, we spent the night before cleaning and scrubbing and de-licing our kids. Then I "slept" with visions of little bugs crawling all over me for about 3 hours.
Oh yeah, you read that right. DE-LICING until well past midnight.
Neither of us even remembered our anniversary. It wasn't until Clif mentioned something about Cohen's birthday yesterday that it dawned on me...June 10th...that seems significant...
I said, "Oh yeah...it's our anniversary."
Clif paused, looked at me, and said "Oh wow. It sure is."
And that was it really. Both of us too exhausted and annoyed to even say anything else. Not necessarily annoyed with each other, but it is always easiest to take our frustrations out on our spouse, right?
So today? Maybe today is the worse. Because right now as I sit here and comb through hair finding tiny little bugs, as I scratch my head over and over again, as I scrub sheets and pillows and stuffed animals, I don't feel very romantic or in love. I feel like I want to run to an island far, far, away and only have myself to worry about. But marriage isn't always about love or romance.
There's no surprise ending to this story. Clif didn't pick me up in a limo and wine and dine me all day. He didn't send me to a spa. He didn't send flowers. And I didn't take him out for a nice dinner or buy him a new watch. Hell, I didn't even buy a card. Today will end and we will have been married 8 years. And this year, it's gift enough that we're both planning on being here in another 8, 16, or maybe 50 years. But then? Well then I'm finding my freaking island.
Clif, I love you and if I have to pick bugs out of my kids hair at midnight on a Monday, well then I'm glad you're the one sitting next to me researching the process - even if I do burst into tears randomly and argue with everything you suggest.
Happy Anniversary!
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Monday, June 9, 2014
The Baby
Dear Cohen,
This has, quite possibly, been the fastest year of my life. I can't believe that a year ago I was staring up at operating room lights waiting to hear you cry. I can't believe it's been a year since the doctor held you over the drape and I saw your sweet face. I can't believe a year has passed since I held all 9 pounds of you in my arms for the first time.
I can't believe that twelve months have come and gone and you've been in our lives. What did we ever do without you?
You are so much more of a baby at this age than Ainsley or Freddie were. I'm not sure what it is but I'm amazed when you do things because you're a baby.
At 1, Ainsley and Freddie were running. They were toddlers. You have started walking, and you've come a long way in 3 weeks. But you are still unsteady and still prefer to crawl half the time. At 1, Ainsley and Freddie were both working on their first words. You babble and point and yell and grunt, but I don't really hear any real words in there. You say "bopba" for almost everything. Could be bye-bye, could be baby, could be puppy. Not sure.
You are clingy. You love to be held. You love snuggles and hugs and kisses. But at the same time, you are my most independent child. You can sit and play with toys for an hour on your own. You follow your siblings around and play with the same toys they do.
You love attention. You clap for yourself and look around waiting for everyone else to join in.
You love to eat. Actually...you love to feed yourself. I can barely get you to spoon feed any more. You want the bowl/plate/utensil yourself. No more mashed sweet potatoes or applesauce, you want little bits of food that you can pick up and chew yourself.
You know what you want...always. And when you don't get it, you get mad. You have a temper and that little head just shakes so vigorously when you are presented with something you don't want.
Since day one, you've been a momma's boy. I really am your favorite. But lately, you want all of daddy's attention too. You get upset when either of us leave the room. The minute daddy gets home you do your little body shimmy where you tighten up in excitement and then you throw your arms in the air for him to pick you up.
You LOVE Ainsley and Freddie. Freddie cracks you up with everything he does. Doesn't matter what it is, it's funny to you. You have started giving Ainsley big hugs when she picks you up.
You love games and you love to be surprised. Sometimes you pull the hand town off the stove handle and crawl around with it on your head, only to sit up, pull it down and say "Ahhhhhh!" to whomever is watching. Then you smile and do it again.
You have such a personality and you want to be in the middle of everything. You don't really like sitting in your highchair for meals. You want to be at the table. If Ainsley and Freddie are talking in the backseat, you try and talk too. When the older kids go to the basement to play, you rush towards the door...only to be stopped by mommy or daddy. You don't want to miss out, you want to be involved. I believe, you think you're as big as them.
After I had Ainsley and Freddie, so many people assumed we were done having kids. People are like that, we had one boy and one girl...perfect, no reason to add another. Ainsley and Freddie are my cake and ice cream, but you Cohen, are my cherry on top. That little extra sweetness that makes the dessert complete. You are everything that reminds me how blessed I am. It's amazing how such a little guy can be the last piece that completes our family so well.
I love you CoCo, no matter how big you get, you'll always be my baby.
Happy Birthday.
Love,
Mommy
This has, quite possibly, been the fastest year of my life. I can't believe that a year ago I was staring up at operating room lights waiting to hear you cry. I can't believe it's been a year since the doctor held you over the drape and I saw your sweet face. I can't believe a year has passed since I held all 9 pounds of you in my arms for the first time.
I can't believe that twelve months have come and gone and you've been in our lives. What did we ever do without you?
You are so much more of a baby at this age than Ainsley or Freddie were. I'm not sure what it is but I'm amazed when you do things because you're a baby.
At 1, Ainsley and Freddie were running. They were toddlers. You have started walking, and you've come a long way in 3 weeks. But you are still unsteady and still prefer to crawl half the time. At 1, Ainsley and Freddie were both working on their first words. You babble and point and yell and grunt, but I don't really hear any real words in there. You say "bopba" for almost everything. Could be bye-bye, could be baby, could be puppy. Not sure.
You are clingy. You love to be held. You love snuggles and hugs and kisses. But at the same time, you are my most independent child. You can sit and play with toys for an hour on your own. You follow your siblings around and play with the same toys they do.
You love attention. You clap for yourself and look around waiting for everyone else to join in.
You love to eat. Actually...you love to feed yourself. I can barely get you to spoon feed any more. You want the bowl/plate/utensil yourself. No more mashed sweet potatoes or applesauce, you want little bits of food that you can pick up and chew yourself.
You know what you want...always. And when you don't get it, you get mad. You have a temper and that little head just shakes so vigorously when you are presented with something you don't want.
Since day one, you've been a momma's boy. I really am your favorite. But lately, you want all of daddy's attention too. You get upset when either of us leave the room. The minute daddy gets home you do your little body shimmy where you tighten up in excitement and then you throw your arms in the air for him to pick you up.
You LOVE Ainsley and Freddie. Freddie cracks you up with everything he does. Doesn't matter what it is, it's funny to you. You have started giving Ainsley big hugs when she picks you up.
You love games and you love to be surprised. Sometimes you pull the hand town off the stove handle and crawl around with it on your head, only to sit up, pull it down and say "Ahhhhhh!" to whomever is watching. Then you smile and do it again.
You have such a personality and you want to be in the middle of everything. You don't really like sitting in your highchair for meals. You want to be at the table. If Ainsley and Freddie are talking in the backseat, you try and talk too. When the older kids go to the basement to play, you rush towards the door...only to be stopped by mommy or daddy. You don't want to miss out, you want to be involved. I believe, you think you're as big as them.
After I had Ainsley and Freddie, so many people assumed we were done having kids. People are like that, we had one boy and one girl...perfect, no reason to add another. Ainsley and Freddie are my cake and ice cream, but you Cohen, are my cherry on top. That little extra sweetness that makes the dessert complete. You are everything that reminds me how blessed I am. It's amazing how such a little guy can be the last piece that completes our family so well.
I love you CoCo, no matter how big you get, you'll always be my baby.
Happy Birthday.
Love,
Mommy
Monday, June 2, 2014
52 Week Challenge
Last year, right around this time, I was preparing to have my third baby. Though we were excited and overjoyed...we were a bit worried. About, what else, money. I put together budget after budget and no matter what, we were not going to be able to afford that additional daycare.
There was talk of me not going back to work. Maybe finding something part time or watching kids or something. No matter what though, we were going to struggle.
It's one reason I kept all three kids home with me last summer, that and I wanted to experience full on what it was like to be a stay at home mom. But the money thing was definitely the reason we didn't do camps or send Freddie once a week. I figured if I could save all that money, at least that would give us a cushion to pay daycare with or live on if I quit my job.
Luckily, the universe was watching out for us. I was offered a promotion while on maternity leave and it came with a nice raise...exactly enough to cover Cohen's daycare.
But, last year on June 3rd, I was starting my last week of work and I came across something on the Internet about a 52 week challenge. A painless way to save a little money. Not a ton of money, but at the end of it, you'd have over $1300 to deposit into your savings account. So I figured I'd try it.
Basically it works like this, on week 1, you save $1 in a jar. Week 2, it's $2. Week 30, $30. Anyway, you get the picture. Every week, you set aside money.
Well, last week was week 52...
BOOM! I now have $1378 to deposit into our savings account. And believe me, my savings account needs it. It's been on a diet lately.
However, this money is earmarked for our Disney trip that we are hoping to take in November. So today, I start again, with $1 in a jar. I was going to do 2, but think maybe I'll start one at Christmas time as well, and next year...we'll have our Santa money.
Saving money is hard. I'm not going to lie...I definitely borrowed from the jar on occasion. But I ALWAYS paid it back. And there were weeks that I didn't have an extra $30 or $40 in the budget. So sometimes I was playing catch up...but it all worked out in the end and now we have half the money we need for Disney.
So go, find your jar and grab you dollar and start. You will feel so awesome on June 1, 2015!
There was talk of me not going back to work. Maybe finding something part time or watching kids or something. No matter what though, we were going to struggle.
It's one reason I kept all three kids home with me last summer, that and I wanted to experience full on what it was like to be a stay at home mom. But the money thing was definitely the reason we didn't do camps or send Freddie once a week. I figured if I could save all that money, at least that would give us a cushion to pay daycare with or live on if I quit my job.
Luckily, the universe was watching out for us. I was offered a promotion while on maternity leave and it came with a nice raise...exactly enough to cover Cohen's daycare.
But, last year on June 3rd, I was starting my last week of work and I came across something on the Internet about a 52 week challenge. A painless way to save a little money. Not a ton of money, but at the end of it, you'd have over $1300 to deposit into your savings account. So I figured I'd try it.
Basically it works like this, on week 1, you save $1 in a jar. Week 2, it's $2. Week 30, $30. Anyway, you get the picture. Every week, you set aside money.
Well, last week was week 52...
BOOM! I now have $1378 to deposit into our savings account. And believe me, my savings account needs it. It's been on a diet lately.
However, this money is earmarked for our Disney trip that we are hoping to take in November. So today, I start again, with $1 in a jar. I was going to do 2, but think maybe I'll start one at Christmas time as well, and next year...we'll have our Santa money.
Saving money is hard. I'm not going to lie...I definitely borrowed from the jar on occasion. But I ALWAYS paid it back. And there were weeks that I didn't have an extra $30 or $40 in the budget. So sometimes I was playing catch up...but it all worked out in the end and now we have half the money we need for Disney.
So go, find your jar and grab you dollar and start. You will feel so awesome on June 1, 2015!
Friday, May 30, 2014
Lemonade Stand
Ainsley's been begging me to have a lemonade stand. I don't really ever remember doing this as a kid. Just setting up shop in the front yard, but maybe I did.
She had big ideas about the sign and what we would sell and for how much. I convinced her that we would only sell lemonade and it would only be $.50. She was trying to push some pretty high profit margins. I had to explain that most likely no one would be buying lemonade for $5.00.
In my true annoying mom fashion, I tried to make it a learning experience. I was trying to get her to tell me how much change she owed people and how much multiple cups were. Eventually, I had to give up or we'd probably still be dealing with out first customer.
She also tried to give a few people 2 quarters instead of collecting the fifty cents. I told her she wouldn't make much money that way.
Having a lemonade stand makes you realize that people are pretty awesome. It's easy to make a little kid feel really good about themselves, and our neighbors did just that. Most slipped the kids a little something extra and came back for seconds.
After an hour or so the lemonade was mostly gone and the kids were $12.75 richer. They considered this a big success.
So they got to drink the rest and split the profits.
Ainsley had a hard time understanding that she started with $12 from her piggy bank so she shouldn't give Freddie half of the total amount. Just half of the $12.75. Freddie didn't seem to mind.
It was fun, and not so hard. The hardest part was finding a nice afternoon that we were free to do it. Ainsley has informed me that this was her FIRST lemonade stand. So I guess we'll be doing it again soon. Heck, maybe she'll become the lemonade queen one day and turn her $12 into millions.
We can dream, right?
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
My Little Box
I heard the squeals and laughter and looked up to see Ainsley running towards me.
"Mommy, it fell out! It fell out!" she exclaimed.
She bounced in front of me with a big grin on her face. A grin that now included one less tooth. Clif helped her rinse her mouth of the blood and she placed the tiny, little chip in my hand. Then she headed back on the field to finish soccer practice.
I watched as she smiled and pushed her tongue through the empty space, over and over again. This day has been a long one coming. She is the last of her friends, classmates, neighbors, teammates to lose a tooth. She'll be 7 in a little over a month, and she's been searching for any sign of a loose tooth since the first week of Kindergarten. Most kids her age already have big adult chompers pushing through their little mouths.
I held the tooth in my hand. It was so small. It didn't look that small in her mouth. I searched my inside purse pocket for any holes, so sure I would lose this lost tooth.
We placed it under her pillow that night and the next morning she awoke $5 richer. I told her that the first tooth is special, so the tooth fairy brings the first tooth back to the mommies and daddies so they can hold on to it forever.
Kind of weird, right? To keep a tooth. Just like keeping those first little curls that were cut off her head. Sometimes I open the little box her blond curls are in and I feel them between my fingers. Remembering her as a bald, toothless baby. That silky hair doesn't feel the same any more. It feels more like my hair. Like grown up hair. Now she uses conditioner and brushes it herself. Her first tooth sits in a plastic baggie on my nightstand because it hasn't made it's way to the box yet. I stare at it every morning while I put on lotion. And I always think it's strange that I keep these things. These are essentially dead human cells, parts of a body, that I plan on stowing away forever.
But then I remember. I remember sitting in the back seat of Clif's car with her. We are leaving Nanny and Poppa's after a weekend visit. I rub my finger along her gums and feel that roughness. For the first time her gums are not pudgy and smooth and pink. This one little spot is hard and rough and white. That first little tooth has pushed itself through. And now that tooth sits for me to stare at every day.
And I remember...waiting for hair. Waiting so long for hair. I remember the first time I saw a curl at the back of her head as I rocked her one night. I remember getting ready for a Memorial Day party at my friend Tara's house and deciding that maybe we could pull off pigtails. Little, itty, bitty pig tails that really did curl like a pig's tail. And now those first little hairs that sprouted from that big shiny head, sit in a box surrounded by velvet, so I can run my fingers over them.
So yes, it's weird. So extremely weird...but necessary. Because one day, her mouth will have expelled all those little teeth, and she will have a beautiful smile filled with big grown up teeth. And one day, her hair may not be so blond. Maybe it will grown long and straight, maybe she'll keep it short and stylish. Little toes with jagged nails will become pedicured. Little knees with scrapes and bruises will be shaved and lotioned. Little hands with pudge and marker streaks will become long and lean. All these little things of her babyhood and childhood will be gone, erased from her face and her mouth and her head. But they'll stay in my heart and in my little box.
"Mommy, it fell out! It fell out!" she exclaimed.
She bounced in front of me with a big grin on her face. A grin that now included one less tooth. Clif helped her rinse her mouth of the blood and she placed the tiny, little chip in my hand. Then she headed back on the field to finish soccer practice.
I watched as she smiled and pushed her tongue through the empty space, over and over again. This day has been a long one coming. She is the last of her friends, classmates, neighbors, teammates to lose a tooth. She'll be 7 in a little over a month, and she's been searching for any sign of a loose tooth since the first week of Kindergarten. Most kids her age already have big adult chompers pushing through their little mouths.
I held the tooth in my hand. It was so small. It didn't look that small in her mouth. I searched my inside purse pocket for any holes, so sure I would lose this lost tooth.
We placed it under her pillow that night and the next morning she awoke $5 richer. I told her that the first tooth is special, so the tooth fairy brings the first tooth back to the mommies and daddies so they can hold on to it forever.
Kind of weird, right? To keep a tooth. Just like keeping those first little curls that were cut off her head. Sometimes I open the little box her blond curls are in and I feel them between my fingers. Remembering her as a bald, toothless baby. That silky hair doesn't feel the same any more. It feels more like my hair. Like grown up hair. Now she uses conditioner and brushes it herself. Her first tooth sits in a plastic baggie on my nightstand because it hasn't made it's way to the box yet. I stare at it every morning while I put on lotion. And I always think it's strange that I keep these things. These are essentially dead human cells, parts of a body, that I plan on stowing away forever.
But then I remember. I remember sitting in the back seat of Clif's car with her. We are leaving Nanny and Poppa's after a weekend visit. I rub my finger along her gums and feel that roughness. For the first time her gums are not pudgy and smooth and pink. This one little spot is hard and rough and white. That first little tooth has pushed itself through. And now that tooth sits for me to stare at every day.
And I remember...waiting for hair. Waiting so long for hair. I remember the first time I saw a curl at the back of her head as I rocked her one night. I remember getting ready for a Memorial Day party at my friend Tara's house and deciding that maybe we could pull off pigtails. Little, itty, bitty pig tails that really did curl like a pig's tail. And now those first little hairs that sprouted from that big shiny head, sit in a box surrounded by velvet, so I can run my fingers over them.
So yes, it's weird. So extremely weird...but necessary. Because one day, her mouth will have expelled all those little teeth, and she will have a beautiful smile filled with big grown up teeth. And one day, her hair may not be so blond. Maybe it will grown long and straight, maybe she'll keep it short and stylish. Little toes with jagged nails will become pedicured. Little knees with scrapes and bruises will be shaved and lotioned. Little hands with pudge and marker streaks will become long and lean. All these little things of her babyhood and childhood will be gone, erased from her face and her mouth and her head. But they'll stay in my heart and in my little box.
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
Ainsley 2.0
So, Cohen...he doesn't sleep. At least not well. He is Ainsley all over again. Actually, if I must be completely honest...he is WAY worse than Ainsley. Ainsley, at least, would sleep in my bed. Cohen will sleep if he is nursing and only if he is nursing.
We've had a bad few weeks. Actually, it's been pretty bad since the day I went back to work. Before that day, he was sleeping through the night. Then I went back to work and he stopped. He stopped so HARD.
But guess what? I'm not going to complain. I could probably publish a book with all the blog posts I wrote about Ainsley not sleeping.
I'm not going to complain because he's my baby and even though last night while I was in his room for 2 hours, only to have him fall asleep for 45 minutes and then be in bed with me again, I googled sleep techniques on my phone and was so tempted by CIO. So. Very. Tempted.
I can't. I can't do it. You can tell me it won't affect them, you can tell me he'll be fine, you can tell me he won't remember - and I believe you. But all I can think is that in that exact moment when he's screaming and crying and thrashing he's thinking "Where did my mom go?" and "Is she ever coming back?" I know, over dramatic, but I can't help it.
Once again, I'm super conflicted about this issue. See apparently when it comes down to the nitty gritty of parenting - potty training, sleep training - I suck. I suck so bad. So what's the right thing? I have no idea. But what I do know is that I read a blog this morning. This line...
We've had a bad few weeks. Actually, it's been pretty bad since the day I went back to work. Before that day, he was sleeping through the night. Then I went back to work and he stopped. He stopped so HARD.
But guess what? I'm not going to complain. I could probably publish a book with all the blog posts I wrote about Ainsley not sleeping.
I'm not going to complain because he's my baby and even though last night while I was in his room for 2 hours, only to have him fall asleep for 45 minutes and then be in bed with me again, I googled sleep techniques on my phone and was so tempted by CIO. So. Very. Tempted.
I can't. I can't do it. You can tell me it won't affect them, you can tell me he'll be fine, you can tell me he won't remember - and I believe you. But all I can think is that in that exact moment when he's screaming and crying and thrashing he's thinking "Where did my mom go?" and "Is she ever coming back?" I know, over dramatic, but I can't help it.
Once again, I'm super conflicted about this issue. See apparently when it comes down to the nitty gritty of parenting - potty training, sleep training - I suck. I suck so bad. So what's the right thing? I have no idea. But what I do know is that I read a blog this morning. This line...
And it made me smile. I didn't even finish reading. That was the message I needed to take away.
I know I will still have nights that I want to scream and I will want to walk out the door and let him scream. I will still wonder what in the hell I'm doing to make my children not sleep. I will be in awe of anyone who can get a baby to sleep through the night. But I'm going to remember this. Because this perfectly sums up how he must feel. To be someone's mom is to be someone's everything, if only for a short, tiny, sparse amount of time. Right now, I am his everything, and I can live with that.
He
knew that if he kept himself very, very close to my body all night and
every night until forever, he would stay safe, and nourished, he would
sleep deeply and he would grow. - See more at:
http://www.scarymommy.com/sleeping-on-his-own/#sthash.xHaLauP6.dpuf
He
knew that if he kept himself very, very close to my body all night and
every night until forever, he would stay safe, and nourished, he would
sleep deeply and he would grow. - See more at:
http://www.scarymommy.com/sleeping-on-his-own/#sthash.xHaLauP6.dpuf
Friday, May 2, 2014
The Truth About Grown Ups
Remember when you were a kid and you couldn't wait to grow up? Because grown ups lived the cake life. Grown ups can stay up as late as they want. Grown ups can eat and drink whatever they want. Grown ups can say whatever they want. Being a grown up just had to be the most awesome thing ever.
I remember how badly I wanted the years to pass so that I could drive and work and have my own money. It was going to be amazing...
I remember how badly I wanted the years to pass so that I could drive and work and have my own money. It was going to be amazing...
As I type this the sound of the Family Feud wrong answer buzzer is going off in my head.
EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Amazing my a$$!
Granted, being an adult does have some benefits, mostly alcohol related. All you little kids out there just waiting and hoping to grow up as fast as possible, first STOP IT, then read this...I'll tell you what being a grown up really means.
First and foremost...you are responsible for EVERYTHING. You know how now you do something that maybe you know is not right but you're still young so maybe you still get away with just being a kid? Yeah, that totally ends when you're a grown up. You now are responsible for everything you do. And there is no playing dumb to get out of it. You can't use the "I didn't know that" excuse because grown ups are supposed to know everything and know how to act and behave in every situation.
Along the same line as responsibility...you are now in charge of everything. No waiting for mom to do your laundry or clean your room. If the house is messy, you've gotta clean it or live in it. If the toilet overflows, guess who's cleaning it up? You are. If you want dinner tonight, you'd better make it because no one else is. Too bad if the smell of vomit makes you vomit...if some person or animal is vomiting on the carpet, you're the one who has to catch it, redirect it, and eventually clean it up. If the smoke detector goes off in the middle of the night...drag yourself out of bed and find the step stool. You've gotta shut it off and figure out why. And sometimes why, has nothing to do with smoke...
Yes, those are ants. A whole colony of them just living and burrowing and setting off your smoke detector, right there in your basement ceiling. Can't ask dad to take care of it...no, you have to do it because you are the dad now that you're a grown up. Go ahead and push your arm up there to pull the wires. Then spend the rest of the night feeling like ants are eating you alive.
Then the next day you have to find someone to take care of this. Which brings me to the worst, most horrible thing about being a grown up...Bills and Money.
So right now, you're living your cute little life and thinking that people just love to give you things and you have everything, until...OMG, there is a new American Girl Doll! You must have it, and someone in your life buys it for you and life is good. Little do you know that that stupid doll costs $120. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY DOLLARS!!! But even when you hear that, you're all "$120, is that a lot?" because you have no concept of money. You have no understanding of something's worth. No, $120 is not that much money, but for a DOLL?!?!? Yes it is a lot of stinking money!
When you are a grown up $120 for a doll is way too much money. You begin to think that you could definitely buy groceries and probably put some gas in your car for $120. You are in charge of paying all the people to make sure that you have a nice life. You pay for the TV, the lights, the warmth, the cool, the roof, the wheels. Everything comes with a price tag. You totally don't notice that as a kid.
Yes, grown ups pay a lot of BILLS and never have any MONEY.
Oh and let me ruin one other little tidbit for you. You know how you eat all the candy you want? You sneak your Easter basket to your room and eat until you're sick? You beg for piece after piece of gum and chocolate and gummies? Well enjoy it now, cause by the time you're like 30, that sweet, adorable, super fast, little metabolism starts to poop out.
So there you have it, kiddos. All your dreams of being a grown up debunked. As my grandmother always said...Enjoy being a kid, you only get to do it for a short time. Once you're a grown up, you're a grown up FOREVER...
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