I DON'T WANT TO BE A GROWNUP TODAY, AND IT'S NOT LOOKING TOO GOOD FOR TOMORROW EITHER

[queenoscots]

As children, we love to imagine that day when we'll be all grown up with no one to tell us what to do.  That day shines in the distance like a star.  So exciting!  So pretty!

If we knew what a mixed bag it really is to be all grown up, would we be so anxious to get there?

In my younger years, I could see my future plainly:  I'd be an artist living in a city somewhere.  European travel would be routine; dining out, dressing up, and nights at the theater would fill my leisure hours.  The Plan also included marrying the boy I'd dated for some time, and though he intended to work for the family insurance business right here in our home town, I somehow saw no conflict between that and the bohemian, city-dwelling, cross-continental details of my youthful goals.

As you've surely guessed,  I didn't make those dreams come true.  It's not really a problem though, as I've long since come to love the much simpler world which I eventually came to inhabit.  And if the sky is really clear, one can still glimpse bits of that cosmopolitan lifestyle of my long ago imaginings.  I'm not an artist, but I do tend to approach many things with my own brand of creativity or craftiness.  I did manage a single trip to Europe a few years back, and went to Mexico just last spring--that one was a bonus!  I still love to eat out and go to the theater, though these days it's a local restaurant and the community playhouse.

I don't mean to whine, but am I the only one who was blindsided by the truth of adulthood?  How naive I was to assume being grown up meant total freedom; in fact, I don't think I've ever met a grownup who enjoys that privilege.  Looking back, I don't know where I ever got that idea at all--the adults around me always seemed to be concerned with some responsibility or rushing off to meet some obligation.  Still, in the hopeful eyes of youth, they appeared so free.  And oh, how they loved the authority granted upon one's ushering into the years of majority!

How many of us, as youngsters, viewed a car as the ultimate symbol of adult freedom and independence?  Even now when I see a carload of teenagers they appear to be having the time of their lives!  And why not?  Where are teens often going when they've got the car?  Aside from school, it's likely to be a party, or shopping, or a sports event, or some other social get together.  Who are they probably with?  Why, other friends, of course.  They are--finally--in charge of the air conditioner, the seatbelts, and the traveling music.  And they might be riding in a car provided by, paid for, fueled, and insured by their parents.  What's not to love about a deal like that?

One of adulthood's first bitch slaps is the dawning realization that a car isn't just a big, cool, toy, but rather one huge time- and money-suck.  Grownup drivers don't seem to share that look of carefree joy with their teenaged counterparts--oh, no.  A grownup in a car is probably motoring off to work, or to a doctor's appointment, or the grocery store.  It certainly would be easier to listen for that funny clanking noise coming from the engine if the back seat weren't filled by impatient kids with smelly feet, kids demanding to have the temperature adjusted, the radio station tuned, or the ETA announced repeatedly and in decreasing time increments.  And who's paying for all this fun?  Yeah. . .

I also imagined my adult self as a possessor of wisdom, free for the taking and heeded by many.  I would be a veritable Grandmother Willow with the children of Earth gathered at my roots to receive my homilies.  In truth, no one really wants to hear it.  There's a lot more keeping your mouth shut (or trying to, at least, since I'm not very good at it) expected of an adult than I'd ever dreamed.  When I complain Hubby just looks at me and asks, "Did you want your mom's opinion all the time when you were young?"  He asks this as though he doesn't already know the answer, which is OF COURSE NOT! But my mom wasn't cool like me, she was just. . .just. . .oh my god, she's one of the smartest and best people I've ever known.  Knowing that didn't stop me from advising her to talk to the hand, however. 

Maybe my credibility would be stronger if I didn't frequently call my family members by the wrong name.  I remember when my brothers and I were teens, and our mom used to get our names mixed up.  Hilarious, that was!  My son and daughter think it's just as funny now that I struggle to pick their names out of the jumble that has become my pre-occupied brain.  Most days I'm so lost in thought it's a wonder I can remember my own name, let alone those of the others who live here.  Suddenly, my own mom's forgetfulness is a bit easier to forgive. 

So are my mom's once frequent requests for backrubs.  As my own body begins to betray me, I remember how mom used to come home from work and offer cash to anyone who would just rub her aching back.  Mom sure knew how to clear a room.  But oh, Mom, if I knew then what I know now, I'd have given you those backrubs for free!

My grandma, who lived to be 95, used to say getting old isn't for the weak of heart.  And my mom (already well past middle age by then) would retort, "Well, it beats the alternative!"  And as usual, Mom was right--we can either grow old or die young--and no one really wants that, either.

There's so much I thought I'd have figured out by now, but I guess we all just have to learn as we go.  As they say, life has to be lived forward, but can only be understood in reverse. 

[angelwings2000]

Jul. 26, 2007 at 8:42 PM What a wonderful blog. What do I want to be when I grow up? A kid!!

[Angeleyes39]

Jul. 28, 2007 at 7:24 AM Thanks for verbalizing what has been in my head for some time.  You know what I want to be when I grow up.. A TOYS R US KID!!