When I was little girl I remember thinking that once I grew up and became an adult I would have the answers for everything. Then as I kept getting older I would still go to my parents and ask questions and kept wondering when I would have the answers for everything. Surely by the time I had a baby, right? The truth is I’m 28 years old (OK, closer to 29), I am married with a mortgage and a baby and a full time job with a retirement plan and all, and I still don’t know a fucking thing. I don’t feel any different now than I do when I was 21 years old to be honest. Sure, I have to pay for all of my own shit and sustain the life of a child who depends on me, but do I feel like an adult? Hell to the no. If I were in a crisis the first thing I would do is try to find an adult. But what if I’m in a crisis with no adults around and I am the adult? Who is going to look at me as the adult in the situation? I need an adult who is more adult than I am. I tend to go to my dad for all life advice and my mom for all baby advice. I ask ridiculous questions most of the time. When the time comes for Charlotte to ask me questions, am I going to have these answers? Or am I going to have to google shit? Because we all know what’s going to happen when that day comes. She’ll ask me what to do about the scrape on her knee and I’ll google “scrape on knee” and it will come back saying she has liver cancer or something. Google is the enemy and I know nothing. It says a lot about me when the idea of my perfect day is Charlotte taking a four hour nap so I can lay on the couch and watch TV/read Harry Potter with a pile of cheese fries and a margarita next to me.
Or maybe that’s actually the illusion we see as children. Adults don’t actually know a damn thing, but they’re allowed to lay on the couch with a pile of cheese fries and a margarita because they are a grown ass adult and nobody can tell them otherwise. If that’s the case then I will always be the adult on call in a crisis. Just make sure I get a margarita in my hand afterwards.