Sometimes, being an adult is just no fun
I’ve been on earth for nearly five decades and there are still moments when I marvel at adulthood – that I’m in the middle of it, that it requires uninterrupted decision-making, that it is a constant process of mistakes and retries.
For example, I finally got advice from cookbook authors and celebrity chefs: I collect all the ingredients before I start cooking. Experience is often the best teacher, and I’ve bogged down in a recipe, mixing batter, or making a casserole all too often only to find out I’ve run out of an important ingredient. Unless my neighbor’s best friend happens to have an extra egg, canned chilli, or a teaspoon of tarragon, I’m forced to either make a best guess substitute or rush to Kroger. When I feel particularly grown up, I even cut all the vegetables before I start making soups and sauces. Lo and behold, the rest of the process is smooth.
As an adult, I also want people to pause and admire the freshly painted paneling and shiny new gutters on my house that were installed over the summer – a project I wasted extra money on over the past year. But please ignore the windows that need to be replaced. Hello, have you calculated the cost of new windows? It’s the next big project on my list.
I would also love to showcase my new washer and dryer set that was purchased to replace the 19 year old set that brought our family through the infant and toddler years, the arts and crafts stage, the endless blur of multiple costumes and changes the cross country plus marching band era.
With no fanfare on a Saturday afternoon, the washing machine stopped stirring. A repair would have cost about the same as a new no-frills washing machine. The dryer was still working, even though I felt its days were numbered and I wanted a kit to match, so I researched my options – which resulted in yet another grow-up win.
I haven’t given in to the Pinterest sites and the appeal of fancy devices. I bought a simple top loading washing machine that defies the bells and whistles of the past few years and avoids problems like mold, mildew and leaks in the door seal.
Another sign of maturity after waiting a week for delivery, I didn’t burst into tears when the technician told me he couldn’t actually install the new washer as disconnecting the old one would likely cause a flood . The valves were corroded after so many years and I would need a plumber first to cut into the drywall and replace the valves.
I also didn’t have a fit when the plumber’s schedule and mine couldn’t match for another week.
So far I have been treating the new set with particular care. I dust it off weekly. The top of the dryer is not yet a collection point for coins, lonely socks and idiosyncratic buttons. I remove lint after every single load.
I still have a long list of growing up skills to work on. Right at the top: Gather all of my financial documents in good time so that I don’t have to apply for an extension of federal income tax. At the beginning of every new year, I vow to get everything to my accountant on time by April 15th, and every year I fail. Will 2022 be the year? I don’t make promises, although I’m sure my accountant, who was working for me through this year’s October 15th deadline, would prefer.
When I take a moment to celebrate my adult victories, I vacillate between feeling like a champion or a poser. I’ll give myself a bunch of grace and remind myself to pull off this adult solo solo. And then I think of the other 10 million single parents in the US who do it all on their own.
We are adaptable, flexible, resilient – until we are not. And then, when we’re in our game, we ask for help. On our best days, we can even help others who need help making adult decisions or just need a cheerleader. Go, adult, go!
Tyra Damm is a briefing columnist. She can be reached at tyradamm@gmail.com.
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