Today was going to be the day I got my shit together.  The day I dove headfirst into adulthood. But, I’ve never been good at diving. I’m more of a waddle in waist deep, head back to shore, cry a little and then eventually wade back out, plug my nose and dunk my head kind of gal.

So instead:

Today was the day I didn’t read the user instructions to my new Clarisonic face brush and spent the better half of an hour planning out how life as a blind woman would be after I shot facial cleanser into my retina at G-force speed. Thank God the issue resolved itself, because I don’t think Bash would be okay with me getting a service dog.

Today was the day I was going to make my boss proud by how much I accomplished during my “at home work day”. Instead, I got distracted by a Game of Thrones marathon and answered every email with a dramatic, British accent in my head. (How dare you be so bold to request so much of the mother of dragons?!)

Today was the day I cut myself on the blade of my new food processor approximately 14 seconds after it had been out the box, bled all over my table and cursed myself for asking for such an ambitious gift. I mean, who am I, Emeril f*cking Lagasse? No.

Today was the day I said, “Awwww!!!” when the Walgreens clerked as me for my ID as I bought Sudafed. I’m also having some serious skin issues, so I’m not taking it personally as I reflect on the fact that I’m pretty  sure they thought I was high.

Today was the day I used Walter White logic, and dumped last month’s French onion soup down the toilet when I needed to use my Dutch oven for tonight’s white chili. I mean, if the pipes of an old, New Mexico home can sustain the remains of an acid eaten body, I think my newish home can handle a little bit of soup that I left in the fridge for a little too long?

And finally, today was the day I said “fuck it, lets try again tomorrow”.

Adulthood will find me someday, but it definitely was not today.

Cheers!

M

 

 

In between. It’s a funny stage of life.

Confusing might be a better word for it, actually. Just to give you an idea, in my closet I currently have the same number of sexy, lacy undergarments as I do pairs of Spanx. On the drive to work, I alternate between listening to Celine Dion and Drake. When I’m home visiting my parents, my darling mother will ask me “are you hungover?” one minute and “Well, do you need to take a pregnancy test?!” the next. It’s a really good time.

I feel like every article that is shared on my social media timeline is irrelevant to me. Whether it’s “13 reasons Why Midterms are the Absolute Worst” or “24 reasons why Breastfeeding in Public is your GOD DAMN RIGHT AS A HUMAN BEING” (okay, so maybe that’s not the exact title, but you know what I mean).These days, I just don’t see much that I can really relate to, and I don’t want to sound dramatic, but at times, it can feel a little depressing. Where is the article titled “Married with a Dog, a Couple White Hairs & a Decent Job”?

In this in between stage, it’s easy to feel that “quarter-life crisis” feeling creep up. Asking yourself questions like “why in the fuck didn’t I study abroad to Europe with Bethany sophomore year?”, or “Should I have at least 7 children and published a cook book by now?!”.  If you’re me (you’re not, you’re you, and you’re fabulous) you might be yearning to re-do the years you’ve already checked off the list (I hope you had fun in Italy, BETHANY) and are feeling pushed toward a life that you might not be ready for yet (marriage, babies, breast pumps, flat shoes). And that’s okay. As a psychiatrist from a shitty afternoon soap opera, or a mother of an adolescent son would say, “those feelings are natural”. And they are. I’m not here to bullshit you. I love my life, but it doesn’t mean I don’t feel a little lost sometimes. I adore my husband. He is tall and funny and the sweetest human ever. I’m obsessed with my dog. I dig my crib. Vacuuming can be a real bitch, but I’m thankful I have a floor to vacuum. However, all of those things don’t dull out that “tick-tock” I hear every time I’m the only one at a family Christmas without a baby in my arms.

That’s why I’ve decided to take this In Between stage and have some fun with it. This is MY time, Damnit, and no stupid article or passive aggressive question is going to change that. That tick-tock is just the sound of my brand new stilettos marching my sassy ass out the door to happy hour, and that little white hair I found this morning will now be referred to as an Albino (rare, beautiful and sought after by many). This is the time of my life. Literally. College is over, and I need to accept that. My Timehop app reminds me of the countless bad decisions I made every day, whether that be in men (Affliction t-shirts for days), fashion (the long sleeve under the tank top was NEVER going to work) or food (bags of Gardettos as a healthy snack?! No. Stop). The future is out there waiting for you. You want to have a baby? DO IT. You don’t quite feel ready? Don’t. It’s your decision and it’s your life, and it’s an incredible life at that. There is so much that can happen – some of that is in your control, and some not. Just enjoy this in between time that you have. Vacuum that floor and buy those shoes. The next time someone asks if you’re pregnant, just wink and ask if they’d like to get up in there and check. Ooooh, actually, nope. Don’t do that last part. Don’t let those articles on social media depress you. Read them! You’ll be the smartest person at the next party when you announce that, “Oh actually, honey contain the spores of the bacteria Clostridium botulinum, which in babies under 1 year of age can cause botulism…so..” Oh, and you’ll have the best shoes.