There’s this thing about growing up, about working and moving out and moving away, about relationships and making commitments and parenting. This thing we don’t talk about very much. This thing that doesn’t make for great copy in hallmark cards or lyrics in the hell-yeah-life-is-sweet-and-I’m-so-cool songs that they play on the radio.
Sometimes being a grown up sucks.

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Not in the grand romantic tradition of great tragedies. Nothing you could write an epic ballad about. Or turn into a memoir. But in small, petty ways that rub and chafe and make us seem like whiners for bringing it up at all. Whether we choose to moan and complain, or bottle it up under the label of positivity, we feel the sting.
It’s no wonder we make heroes of those who throw off societal convention to chase their whims (something every toddler does on a daily basis). That’s right Kerouac, I’m looking at you. They seem glamorous. Romantic. When they’re more likely immature and selfish.
Deep down, we long to escape the menial, the mundane, the constant drip of urgent. We drool over travel brochures and retirement ads. We imagine that if we make this much money or get that job or our kids reach such-and-such a milestone, it’ll be easy and fun all the time. We tally up the costs of selflessness – lost time, lost energy, lost dreams, lost sleep, and some days, lost sanity.
Then a little voice chirps “I love you!” and places a slobbery kiss on your cheek. Or that someone special brings home your favourite treat because they just happened to be thinking of you. Or you sit down with a good book in your favourite chair in your own home that fits you exactly right.
It’s so much more gained than lost.
Day-to-day, being a grown up can suck, but in a long run, it’s a win. So we choose meaningful over happy. We have faith that this path is the right one, the one we were made for.
Until I find another dirty, wet towel thrown on my bed. Then, all perspective is lost.
I’m only human.
So here’s me, in my journey toward maturity. My continuing mission to explore this strange old world, to seek out a good life and civilize my children, to boldly go where so many have gone before.
Yes. I’m a dork.
A great article on the benefits of being a grown up:
There’s More to Life Than Being Happy
July 26th, 2014 at 12:22 pm
Love this Christie. And I think this is why I like you so much! You are so honest and open. The mundane is hard, the constant sound of my kids fighting and whining is hard. Killing the insane amount of fruit flies in my kitchen is hard. Accepting that my house will always be dirty is hard. Thanks for letting me say this. And I’m not crazy for wanting more kids, right?!?
July 26th, 2014 at 5:31 pm
Yes – the fruit flies. I can’t even begin to describe how sick I am of the swarm. Arg. Totally doesn’t change the desire for more kids. I used to wonder too, if I needed to get it together better before adopting another. But chaos is inevitable, no matter how many kids – love, however, can multiply.
August 30th, 2014 at 12:27 pm
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