Turning 18 might legally make you an adult, but mentally… not so much. Adult isn’t a number, or an age, it’s a mindset. A scary, responsibility-filled, kind of lame mindset. Yeah, I said it. Adulting is lame. Sure, it comes with the freedoms of being able to eat cake literally whenever you want to, and being in charge of your own bed time, but those are double-edged swords.
You can eat cake whenever you want, but if you do, your metabolism is shit, so it goes straight to your ass. You can stay up all night, but you still have to wake up in the morning and go to work, or take the kids to school, or run errands.
I really thought being an adult was going to be this exciting, amazing, free-balling experience. That it stomped the shit out of childhood wonder. All of the things I looked forward to doing as an adult when I was a kid turned out not to be so great after all. Instead, I find myself excited about different things. Things that are nowhere near as exciting as getting to eat cake for breakfast, but that is adulthood.
Here are some of the stupid, lame-ass things that excite me now that I have fully succumbed to being an adult.
Adulting is weird.
One of my favorite movies in the past year has been Disney-Pixar’s COCO, and if you haven’t seen it yet, I won’t yell at you, instead, I’ll offer you an opportunity to win a copy!
Heck, even if you have seen it, you’re still welcome to enter (giveaway is open to US & Canada)!
COCO is the story of a young boy named Miguel who has never really felt accepted for the musician he is at heart by his own family. He embarks on a journey into the land of his ancestors to uncover the mysteries in his family’s past, and finds out so much more about himself and his history than he ever could have imagined.
The Golden Globe winning movie is beautiful, and it might quickly become your new favorite animated movie of all time! It’s one of those movies that my boys want to watch over and over again!
The copy I am giving away includes TWO HOURS of bonus, including deleted scenes, the music of COCO. commentary, and more!
HOW DO YOU ENTER TO WIN? Easy peasy. Use the widget below! You can earn extra entries by retweeting & sharing!
Contest is open for residents of the US & Canada from February 22nd – March 1st at 8pm EST. Winner MUST respond to notification e-mail within 48 hours or a new winner will be drawn.
Let’s not dance around the truth here- I ripped the ass out of my pants on Sunday. I’d love to sit and complain about how this horrible thing that caused the cold winter air to kiss my cheeks must be because I’ve had children and they forced weight gain, and that means my pants are simply to not be able to contain my ass anymore (and yes, that’s sarcasm). I’d also love to give thanks to the months of booty workouts I’ve been doing, and sya that my rear end just Hulk smashed their way through the seams of my jeans because it is so glorious I must move up a size, but neither of those things are the truth, at least not totally.
Were my pants tight? Yes. I wear tight pants. I KNOW, BLASPHEMY! PANTS ARE EVIL! I don’t disagree, but I still wear them. And when one puts on tight pants, what’s the first thing they do? You lunge. You squat. You stretch. You try to get them that perfect balance of fitting and comfortable. Pants are bad enough when they’re squeezing your uterus like a fucking bear trap. This isn’t the 1800s. I don’t want to wear a corset. Especially not one made of denim. I want stretchy comfort. These were not stretchy comfort- they were squishy death.
Like I always do, I popped my ass into a deep squat and instantly heard a sound no one wants to hear: EAAARRRRRRRTTTTTT.
No, I didn’t accidentally squeak a fart out- the seam down my crack ripped all the way up. Lucky for me, I was at home, but I was still mortified. No one wants to rip their pants. It’s never as funny as it is on television.
I don’t have a ton of pants that really fit me- and I mean really- so when I lose one, it’s almost like losing a limb. Like losing that one hair tie you have that you’ve spent months stretching to the perfect size to go around your hair three times without pulling your scalp or falling out. They become the holy grail. You treasure them, take care of them, make sure nothing bad happens to them. But at least hair ties are a couple of bucks for a pack of about 50. Jeans can be more than 50 for one damn pair, depending on where you get them (and you can’t always get them cheap, because the cheap fit might not fit right.)
With one of my few fitting pants out of commission, this only meant one thing: I had to buy new ones.
That night I went pants shopping online- yes, online, where I can’t try them on. At least there’s a chance they’ll fit and I won’t have to go through the horror of trying hundreds of pairs of jeans on in the store, and I sort of know my size, so it was really making more of an educated guess.
I sifted through what felt like endless pages of cuts and sizes and washes (did you know there is literally an entire category called “MOM JEANS”- NO! STOP IT RIGHT NOW! BURN THEM! NO ONE WANTS MOM JEANS. QUIT IT. THEY ARE UNFLATTERING AND MAKE YOUR ASS LOOK SEVEN MILES LONG.) and picked two I liked. One for a replacement and two because I require free shipping and one wasn’t enough to get it.
…..and then I let them sit in my cart for hours, because I just couldn’t seem to go through with spending that much money on pants for myself.
Now, y’all know I scream from the top of every roof that we deserve to treat ourselves–to get ourselves something we don’t need every now and then because we deserve it– and I fully endorse this, subscribe to it, follow through with the words that I say- but what about shit we DO need?
As much as we hate pants, we need fabric to cover our asses in public. Yet I’m still wearing pants that are almost as old as my oldest child. I have underwear older than my oldest child- WHICH I KNOW IS KIND OF GROSS- but y’know, when it’s that time of the month, you don’t wanna potentially ruin anything relatively new you might have. I have shirts from pre-children. I don’t replace bras until I’m being impaled by underwire, or until I’ve worn out the band so much that it’s sliding up and down my ribs like they’re a Slip-N-Slide.
I didn’t want to, but I bought the pants. We gotta take care of ourselves, y’all- and not just once a year, or for special occasions, but regularly. We can’t be walking around looking like we’re starring in some post apocalyptic movie while our kids look like catalog models. We deserve better. Our butts deserve better.
There’s sibling rivalry, and then there’s my kids. I’m sure every parent says that, including my own mother. I wouldn’t have argued with her before I had my own. My brother broke my nose growing up. We really had it out for each other. But I swear, and I’m being honest and without any exaggeration, my kids are mortal enemies.
78% of their time is spent arguing about stupid bullshit, 12% is spent tattling on each other, 8% is spent quietly fighting so I don’t hear them and they avoid getting in trouble, 1% is spent sort of getting along while still being horribly condescending to each other, and the last 1% is sometimes spent genuinely enjoying each other’s company. Maybe. Probably not, though.
Every mother’s dream is to have their kids be the best of friends. Thick as thieves, with an unbreakable, unshakable bond.
I’m not gonna sit here and whine about how I’ve failed at my job, I’m a horrible, terrible mother, blah blah blah. I didn’t. I’m not. They’re kids. This shit happens. But that doesn’t mean I can’t hate it, and want to change it. And I have tried. Over and over again. Now THAT, I have failed it. I know, I know– you can’t force these things.
Why not try to influence them, though? Quietly. Secretly. Discreetly. Make them think it’s happening without outside interference? Show them that, despite all the arguing, they actually have a lot in common and truly could be the best friends that ever existed?
I feel like over time I’ve built up a pretty big buffer for their bullshit. I tell them to resolve their own arguments because eventually they need to be able to do that kind of thing without a mediator. I tell them not to tattle, I won’t hear it, yadda yadda- but there’s only so much one person can take, and lately, literally all they’ve done is fight. Even the most innocuous things turn into an argument. One orders something at a restaurant and if the other orders the same thing, all hell breaks loose. It doesn’t matter if I’m yelling YOU CAN BOTH HAVE THE SAME THING WHY DO YOU EVEN CARE? They want to fight. They want me to turn into a stark-raving mad-woman, and I’d had it.
Come yesterday, they’d both had their tablets and basically everything fun else they own taken away from them for a month. Yeah, a month. While they understood the severity of such a lengthy punishment, and they knew how they’d managed to get themselves into such a mess, it wasn’t doing enough of the trick for me when it came to their attitudes toward one another. With nothing else to do, it almost seemed like the only thing left to do was to annoy each other. And me. And I’ll be damned if I was in the kind of mood to tolerate that level of bullshit. Nope.
It just so happened that yesterday was Valentine’s Day, and that gave me an idea.
When the kids got home from school clamoring on and on about all the candy they received from classmates they DON’T fight with, I told them they would have one way to earn back their crap- thereby relieving me from having to listen to them complain, and maybe teaching them something in the process: They had to hand-make Valentine’s Day cards for each other, and in them, list 5 things they actually like about each other.
There was a bit of complaint–swearing that it was going to be an impossible task– but they soon agreed and got to work. SHOCKINGLY, IT DIDN’T TAKE THEM THAT LONG TO FIND THINGS THEY LIKE ABOUT EACH OTHER. I know, my jaw is on the floor, too.
Well, would you look at that–AND I DON’T MEAN HOW MISTY THESE MADE ME–but how, even though they swear they don’t–they DO like each other, and each other’s company.
I’m not under any false pretenses, here. No rose colored glasses for me. I know this isn’t the be-all-end-all-solution. It’s not going to make happily ever afters, or make them instantly best friends 24/7. I know it doesn’t mean they’re never going to fight again, but it’s a really great reminder for them when they aren’t getting along that it is possible. That if they’d just drop the petty garbage-level fights, they can have a great time with each other. And if they refuse? I’ll have them make new cards.
If you celebrate Valentine’s Day as a big holiday, showering your significant other with gifts, cards, chocolates, flowers- hey, good for you! I’m glad you find joy in it. It’s pretty cool that you’d do that for someone else.
If you don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day as a big holiday- if you think it’s stupid. If you would just rather treat it as any other day- hey, good for you! You do you. Whatever makes you happy, I always say.
I don’t really care what you do today as long as you and whomever you may be with have a good time. Whether that good time is a night on the town, or a night on the couch.
Valentine’s Day has never been that big of a deal for me because I don’t do jewelry, I am not particularly fond of flowers, and I have no self control when it comes to chocolates so I’d rather not have them in my house. BUT, I will generally take any holiday, constructed or not, as an excuse to eat good food, because I love food. Any day I don’t have to cook is a good day to me.
Maybe it’s my age, or the fact that my kids have ripped away my patience, but going out on one of the busiest restaurant days of the year and dealing with traffic, people holding hands across tables, and long waits even with reservations is just not all that appealing to me anymore.
IF THAT’S WHAT YOU WANNA DO MORE POWER TO YOU.
If that’s not what you wanna do, and your still looking for something even the most mildly festive, I have some ideas to toss your way:
Nothing. Do absolutely nothing. I mean it- nothing. Get home, sit on the couch, order a pizza, say screw the housework you were swearing you were gonna get around to. Take this time to love yourself and your laziness.
Pick up a special dessert of your liking. Tell the kids you’re gonna have some sexy time and send them to bed early and then just veg out on the couch and eat it all without having to share it with them. If that ain’t love I don’t know what is.
Spend the night beating the shit out of each other. VIRTUALLY. YOU KNOW, VIDEO GAMES? Get some comfy pajamas on, settle down, and whoop each other’s asses.
Go to bed. You don’t get enough sleep as it is, and you know it. What could be more romantic than a full 8 hours of rest and not wanting to stab everyone in the morning?
Save your time and money on Valentine’s Day itself and go out the day after- chocolate at 40+% off.
That’s the thing- you don’t HAVE to do anything. Or you can do a tiny something. Or you can make the day an excuse to do something you’ve always wanted to do, or eat food you wouldn’t normally eat. Cook something special, or don’t cook at all. It’s another day. It’s all about what you make of it.
Just make sure you significant other is on board with this idea or it might be a cold sleep on the couch.
I take what I can get pic.twitter.com/OjsRGaRoxz
14 STUPID Things Adults get Excited About goo.gl/fb/L8V5Nm
I'm at the point in my life where "happy hour" means taking my pants off and eating dinner on the couch.
My husband and me trying to stay awake after the kids go to bed tonight because "DAMNIT WE'RE ADULTS AND WE DESERVE ADULT TIME!" pic.twitter.com/sDAC5nWxSD
GIVEAWAY! WIN a copy of Disney-Pixar’s COCO! goo.gl/fb/vn9grQ
Me: I'm so glad my kids are older and they don't bother me every time I go to the bathroom anymore! 5 minutes later: pic.twitter.com/X67Xr8iURv
I watch random things I find on Netflix without reading any reviews first, so I guess you could say I like to live dangerously.