This Doesn't Mean I Have to Wear Sensible Shoes Though, Right?
Trixie freaked out on Sunday. Her mother had taken it upon herself to invite their relatives over to OUR place, and then simply called Trixie to inform her of the impending company. Not only was Trixie not pleased, Trixie was not prepared. Her bedroom looked like a bomb went off in it. So a Major Freakout commenced.
An hour before the company was supposed to arrive, I wandered over to Trixie's room to see how she was doing. Didn't even have to ask. She was clearly doing terribly. I spend about five minutes every day cleaning my room, because that's easier for me than a huge cleaning once a week. Plus I feel calmer in a clean bedroom. Trixie does not share my logic.
I asked if she wanted to switch rooms for the afternoon, and pass my bedroom off as hers. Poor girl almost burst into tears as she thanked me and explained that she was just so overwhelmed by everything. There were clean clothes mixed with dirty clothes all over the floor. The floor had random coins and papers on it.
Smoothing out Trixie's blanket, I told her to put all the clean clothes on her bed. As she did that, I put them in piles in her closet shelves. After running to the kitchen for garbage bags, we shoved all the dirty clothes into the bags, and the bags into Trixie's closets and under the bed. We opened the blinds, sprayed a tiny bit of Lysol, and opened the balcony door.
Nine minutes after I walked out of her bedroom, Trixie's relatives were calling to say they were parking and would be right up. After they'd left, Trixie talked about how angry she was at her mother for dumping the relatives on her. Of course, Trixie's mom thinks her daughter's bedroom is clean all the time, but that's not the full reason for the anger. Trixie and I started talking about how when our friends are coming over, it's not such a big deal if the bedroom is messy, or dishes are in the sink. "Our friends are just ... friends. But my aunt and uncle ... they're like REAL grownups!"
Yeah. We're fake grownups. Who do scarily real grownup things. When I was a kid I truly thought I would wind up in prison as an adult. Not for killing people or anything, but because I wouldn't know how to do mysterious and difficult paperwork I was convinced adults have to do and I'd be breaking the law.
Nevermind that I learned how to do my taxes when I was 17. I was convinced. And I'm always surprised when other people treat me like a competent adult. They ask or offer me things, and although I always say yes, am thinking, "Don't you want a real grownup for that?" Apparently they think I am one.
People have:
- Given me their extra set of keys to their home
- Asked me to take care of their pet overnight
- Made me their ICE person
- Asked me to be the emergency contact at their child's preschool
- Trusted me to handle issues where millions of dollars are at stake
Even the idea that I am friends with people who have mortgages and marriages is mind-blowing. Who am I, and when did I stop being the person who danced around her bedroom for an hour each morning when she was supposed to be getting dressed for the day? Oh yeah - Mom, sorry I stressed you out with running late each morning - that's what I was really doing when I said I was "getting dressed."
An hour before the company was supposed to arrive, I wandered over to Trixie's room to see how she was doing. Didn't even have to ask. She was clearly doing terribly. I spend about five minutes every day cleaning my room, because that's easier for me than a huge cleaning once a week. Plus I feel calmer in a clean bedroom. Trixie does not share my logic.
I asked if she wanted to switch rooms for the afternoon, and pass my bedroom off as hers. Poor girl almost burst into tears as she thanked me and explained that she was just so overwhelmed by everything. There were clean clothes mixed with dirty clothes all over the floor. The floor had random coins and papers on it.
Smoothing out Trixie's blanket, I told her to put all the clean clothes on her bed. As she did that, I put them in piles in her closet shelves. After running to the kitchen for garbage bags, we shoved all the dirty clothes into the bags, and the bags into Trixie's closets and under the bed. We opened the blinds, sprayed a tiny bit of Lysol, and opened the balcony door.
Nine minutes after I walked out of her bedroom, Trixie's relatives were calling to say they were parking and would be right up. After they'd left, Trixie talked about how angry she was at her mother for dumping the relatives on her. Of course, Trixie's mom thinks her daughter's bedroom is clean all the time, but that's not the full reason for the anger. Trixie and I started talking about how when our friends are coming over, it's not such a big deal if the bedroom is messy, or dishes are in the sink. "Our friends are just ... friends. But my aunt and uncle ... they're like REAL grownups!"
Yeah. We're fake grownups. Who do scarily real grownup things. When I was a kid I truly thought I would wind up in prison as an adult. Not for killing people or anything, but because I wouldn't know how to do mysterious and difficult paperwork I was convinced adults have to do and I'd be breaking the law.
Nevermind that I learned how to do my taxes when I was 17. I was convinced. And I'm always surprised when other people treat me like a competent adult. They ask or offer me things, and although I always say yes, am thinking, "Don't you want a real grownup for that?" Apparently they think I am one.
People have:
- Given me their extra set of keys to their home
- Asked me to take care of their pet overnight
- Made me their ICE person
- Asked me to be the emergency contact at their child's preschool
- Trusted me to handle issues where millions of dollars are at stake
Even the idea that I am friends with people who have mortgages and marriages is mind-blowing. Who am I, and when did I stop being the person who danced around her bedroom for an hour each morning when she was supposed to be getting dressed for the day? Oh yeah - Mom, sorry I stressed you out with running late each morning - that's what I was really doing when I said I was "getting dressed."
Labels: Potential Depth, Trixie
posted by Green at 6/28/2007 08:28:00 AM
3 Comments:
I am not kidding when I say that one of the first things out of my mouth when we left after signing the huge stack of papers that made us homeowners/mortgage bearers was something like, "Oh my God. They let us buy a house. They think we are responsible enough to pay a mortgage every month. What kind of people are we dealing with? They're crazy!"
HA HA HA.
Funny that obviously quite a few people don't really see themselves as nreal grown-ups. I don't either, although I am married already. Oh yeah, and I gave birth two weeks ago, so I am a mommy now! But a real adult? No way! :)
Psssh. F that noise. Being an adult is for the birds! I still dance too long in the bathroom and am late for work all the time!
Ha!
Well, in all seriousness, I too am the ICE person for a lot of my mommy friends but I find time to keep my inner kid alive. As should you.
Oh and PS - where is your angry post about last night's SYTYCD? It was a SHONDA! A shonda I tell you!
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