Will the real adult please stand up?

I am thirty-seven. I have a husband, two children, too many pets, a house, a car and a job. I also feel like I am pretending to be an adult, and that at some point, the entire world will realize that I’m flying by the seat of my pants and would really rather be serving frozen libations from a thatched hut somewhere tropical and homeschooling my happy albeit sunburned children whilst Rob fishes for dinner in an impossibly blue ocean.

I don’t really want a mortgage, and rather than feel proud that I Am Part Of The American Dream, I feel trapped by the grasping claws of a not terribly ethical financial institution. As far as what goes into the home… Combining digital readouts and water is the most counterintuitive thing ever – so I do not feel the urge for the latest and greatest dishwasher, washing machine or refrigerator. I’ve read review after review explaining how front loading washer/dryer combos have to be carefully cared for so as to not develop mold and suspicious odors in the seals. Really? I want to put dirty clothing in there to get rid of yucky things and would rather not be fostering the growth of more yucky things. So despite the red gorgeousness of the LGs, I’ll have to take a pass there as well. Dyson similarly fails to enthrall. Yes, the Australian accent draws me in, as does the thought of a purple vacuum. Purple is fun, ergo vacuuming would also become fun. Plus – that ball! It’s like a big toy that sucks up dirt. The baglessness of it all stops me cold; I do not want to re-see that which I just removed from my carpeting.

Home improvements. I have a new fence and am about to get a new roof. (crickets) No tingle of excitement down my spine.

PTA. I just don’t know what to say. I’ve joined, but have yet to attend a single meeting – I fear what I have to say regarding fundraising would make my children the “spawn of that woman” for the remainder of their school years. Would it really be so difficult to just write a check? I do not need cookie dough, gift wrap, cheap kitchen goods made in China, cheese logs or cases of Coca Cola. Side note – seriously? We all happily hop aboard the Jamie Oliver bandwagon, demand that this be removed from our schools, and then have our children sell it in bulk to bring home? The fact that this fundraiser information came home with the Jump Rope for Heart paperwork was just delicious. Back to the issue at hand. It is my understanding that schools receive approximately 40% of the revenue from fundraising sales. I would happily write a check, see the entire amount benefit the school, and keep my home free of junk food and clutter.

Smart phones. I know I’m supposed to want one, and Rob’s is fun to play with. Mostly because he has not replaced the broken screen on my adorable pink netbook and I need to do the social when he’s upstairs with the real computer. My position was solidified last night as I watched a mother clear three chairs and two children at Chuy’s to squeal “Did I just get a text?” and snatch Angry Birds away from her two year old. I could understand it if she was waiting for verification of a Supreme Court appointment, but somehow I doubt that was the case.

Office politics. I do not care who said what to whom or why. Someone should commission a study on the seemingly positive correlation between neutral walls, cubicles and human capacity for drama.

Please do understand that the surfeit of snipe and “I” statements is well fueled by a lack of sleep and the fact that I’m starving and yet do not feel like expending the energy necessary to make a sandwich. But I will have that thatched hut someday.

Oh yes, I will.

February!

First of all, I need to report that someone did color on the cat again last week – her front legs were striped with an engaging hue of yellow only found within a Crayola box. Judging from Ashton’s unholy giggles when I asked, I believe I took her denials with an appropriate amount of salt.

Next, I’m happy to report that it’s that time of year during which those of us in south central Texas experience the season I believe the rest of the English-speaking world calls winter. I love the cold snaps, but Rob has assured me that being Michigan-borne, I am in fact abnormal and it is fit for neither man nor beast out there. He may have a point. I revel in a twenty degree morning and yet will complain from May – October that a thermostat setting of 65 degrees is simply intolerably cold. That said, we can both agree upon the following list of recommendations for our fellow citizens.

1. Buy a nice coat. The wool ones will be on sale soon at 75% off and next winter you won’t look homeless and miserable in your two hoodies and the mittens from the display stand that Wal-Mart threw up near the registers Sunday night.
2. Smile. Really. It’s 3 days out of 365, and there’s no need to look bleary eyed and miserable. Embrace the change.
3. Take off the hoodies and baseball cap, put down the coffee, unwrap the scarf from the steering wheel and drive. You’re scaring me.
4. Where are you? The 14 minute commute was nice, but it might snow tonight. Later. After work. Little bits of frozen fluff. Not ice, not three feet of water, not tornados, not high winds, not herds of galloping camels. You look either lazy or silly (Rob used a different adjective). Or both.
5. Your children look ridiculous. The Spiderman hat/mask combo, scarf, waterproof mittens and puffy jacket to walk from the parking lot into the school is probably not necessary.

All that aside, Sage confided this morning that she and Ashton are very excited about the possibility of snow “furleys” later today, and to be honest, so are their parents.