Am I an Adult?

Like I said in yesterday’s post, I turned 25 this month, and it’s strange because I still feel like I’m in high school. It’s not like I’m clinging to youth or anything, in fact, I’m excited to turn 30 in the near future. I’ve found that every six months or so I become a little less of an asshole, so I’m hoping by 30 I’ll be a real hip woman in charge of her own destiny, getting her clothes tailored, not eating as much processed foods, the whole thing.

young-adult-poster

But for now, I can’t tell- am I an adult? Let’s look at the evidence:

ADULT: I have aged out of eligibility to be on The Real World because apparently 25 is too old to catch syphilis in a hot tub while you experiment with your sexuality. What if I’m a late bloomer, huh, MTV?

NON-ADULT: Still too young to be a Real Housewife. Not a girl, not yet a woman.

ADULT: I pay rent with my own money for a townhouse with a garbage disposal, yes, garbage disposal. 

NON-ADULT: I recently cashed in an animal crackers jug full of change at a Coin Star so I would have drinking money.

ADULT: I told a co-worker how old I turned on my birthday and he said, “25! You can get married now!” Isn’t that wild? I mean, at this point, if I had a kid in a high school bathroom stall no one would give me a reality show. They might call DCF because what am I doing having a baby in a high school bathroom stall? but 25 is a completely appropriate age to get married and have a child. In the Mid-West.

NON-ADULT: No matter how old I am when I have kids, always exclaiming “this is children raising children!” is a very charming thing I plan to do.

ADULT: Another thing about kids- I’m at least mature enough to know at what time a toddler should be in bed and not at the West Hollywood Halloween Carnival among half a million people. That would be all of the times. When I went this year it was after 11pm and I was very surprised at the toddler to screaming drunk people ratio.

NON-ADULT: At 8pm on a Sunday I locked my keys in my car and waited until 1am to ask AAA to get them because I was late for karaoke. Somebody, quick! Give me a baby to raise! I might accidentally lock them in the back seat, but I promise I’ll fish them out after last call!

ADULT: I got my oil changed all by myself this week!

NON-ADULT: I didn’t get my oil changed all by myself until I was 25 year old.

Welp, I am no closer to an answer, but at least I have enough self awareness to limit the amount of times I say the phrase “quarter-life crisis.” That counts for something, right?

7 Reasons Why I’m Ill Equipped to Have a Baby

I’m at an age where many of my friends, acquaintances, and people I don’t really know (but I feel like I know because I spend so much tracking their baby bump progress on Facebook) are settling down. It always starts with your high school friends and acquaintances. You can tell which girls will get married or pregnant first based on how over plucked their eyebrows are. Don’t ask me why it’s true, but “if their brow bones aren’t hairy, they’re the first ones to marry” is a great rule of thumb.

Next comes your college friends. At around 25, the wedding invitations start trickling in. Then from their it’s just the slow death march of all your friends moving back to the suburbs to start mommy blogs while you’re in the middle of the city screaming “but I’m an independent woman!!!” to no one.

But that’s the way it must be for some of us. I’m just mature enough to know that I’m way too immature to be in charge of another human for a very long time. I could be trusted to watch a child. I’m a great baby sitter. I do this thing when I tuck the kids in: “snug as a bug in a rug.” They die over it. But when you’re baby sitting, you’re with these kids, what? 5, 6 hours? The likelihood of you accidentally killing them in that amount of time is low. If I’m entrusted with a baby 24 hours a day 7 days a week…. let’s just say I can’t believe more people don’t forget that they left their kid sleeping in a hot car.

And THAT, my friends is only one reason why giving me a baby a mistake, but there are many more, like:

  1. Everyone would get tired of my 24 year old self whining, “this is kids raising kids!”

    I like to think that the red head I’m most like is Lucille Ball, but I know it’s really Garfield.

  2. I am lazy. Last night I slept in my bra because it would have been too much to wrestle that thing out of my sweatshirt. 
  3. My desired sleep schedule is closest to a baby bear suffering from mono in winter. If I don’t get my 12 hours a night, I am just incorrigible.

    Garbage Pail Kids Movie

  4. I don’t like anything gross, and babies are just a sticky ball of uncontrollable bodily functions. Up until very recently, if my dogs pooped in the house, I would just pretend not to see it until someone else in my house did. And that only stopped because my dogs stopped pooping in the house.

    Case in point.

  5. 9 months of no drinking is not an option yet. If you are not ready to give up pumpkin beer for a whole season, I think that’s the clearest indicator that you are not ready for children. 
  6. At this point, if I had a child and gave up on my career for them, they would have no chance of being allowed to pursue any other interest besides drug addled child star with a fame-obsessed mom-ager with hair extensions way too long for her age.

    Queen.

  7. I don’t like having to smell things as a detection method. Like when someone sticks something in your face and says “hey, smell this, does this smell weird?” Parents always seem to be smelling things to figure out if it’s something that came out of a baby, and I’m not up for that kind of case work. This is not Law and Order: SV-P.U.

*Dun-Dun*

(Nailed it).

That’s my time! Thanks, you guys! Don’t forget to tip your waitress!