20 Reasons that I’m Not Really a Grownup
A lot of people think that I’m very mature and grown-up. There is circumstantial evidence, after all.
I own a home & I’m not behind on the mortgage payments (although that fact is completely due to my husband’s diligence. If it weren’t for him I’d be in debtor’s prison. Like in The Tower. Or The Stocks.) Said home is fairly clean and not overrun with cockroaches, (also not because of my elbow grease, although I did hire the cleaning lady…) even though the stacks of paper that I must-keep-just-in-case are probably a fire hazard.
I can make food that doesn’t poison people. In fact, I can make some fancy food that tastes much better than it looks. My food will never appear on Pinterest. But, that’s because it will be all eaten up.
I have, in conjunction with a husband of nearly 20 years, raised three children to their teens. Not only have I never lost or otherwise harmed or misplaced one of my own kids (or anyone else’s), I also have never forgotten to pick up carpool, or left a kid at school even though I wanted to. Ever.
I hold down a job. I have never missed a deadline at my job. It has been said that I’m even good at what I do, which is more than winning on the Internet and stringing words together.
I nag my kids, (often to do things that I have no intention of doing, but that they should learn how to do so that they can be productive members of society one day)
It’s all an act. I’m not really a grown-up. It’s true. I’m actually a practicing Immaturian. There’s evidence:
- I do not own hand towels.
- I stamp my feet when I get mad.
- I delight in making a mess but mysteriously find something else to do when it’s time to clean up.
- I don’t want to get up on school days.
- When I want a new whatever, I just break the one I have.
- I throw my clothes on the floor and just step over them. Related, I don’t clean up my closet, and like to play the ‘If I don’t look at it, I don’t see it game’.
- I like to go to the mall with my husband, point at things and say, ‘Can I have that?’
- I can’t seem to keep a meat thermometer. Or gloves.
- If it’s 3 pm, I might still be in my pyjamas.
- I use my sleeves as oven mitts and my oven mitts as trivets (although knowing the word ‘trivet’ may point me towards adultness, yeah?)
- I dance like nobody is watching. Even when someone is watching. Especially when someone is watching.
- I laugh at and say inappropriate things and then look at the victim to see their response. I try to look ashamed or embarrassed but I can’t.
- I love sleeping but don’t like going to sleep.
- The more someone asks me to do something, the less likely I am to do it.
- I revert to child-like sullenness when arguing with my mother or siblings.
- I am giddy and extremely enthusiastic. I sometimes squee and have to be told to calm down.
- I don’t make the bed on the premise that I’m just going to mess it up again.
- I like to watch teenager TV shows and it’s not to spend time with my teenagers.
- I don’t like to answer a lot of questions.
- BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO BE ONE.
- Because it goes to 21
Are you a grownup? Do you even want to be? Because being a practicing Immaturian is REALLY good for the skin.
PS this post was impossible to tag, so if you want anyone else to read it, please share and share alike. Please and thanks. Use the hashtag #PracticeImmaturity. Because it’s funny.