As I type this, it's just after 10pm and I am sitting on my yoga mat in my pajamas after doing Pilates. Before Pilates, I turned the heat up from 65 to 69 after I took a shower. Speaking of the shower, my hair is crazy frizzy, damp, and unruly.
And all of this was after Mike and I went grocery shopping at Whole Foods and threw whatever the heck we wanted into the cart. On the way to the post office, I helped myself to some baguette and sharp cheddar cheese. I just ripped off a hunk of delicious, crusty bread and nibbled some cheese straight from the package.
Mike gave me eyes of judgment that said "That's disgusting, Ashley."
I gave him eyes of correction that said, "No, Mike, this is why being a grown up RULES."
Actually, I said, "If you can't do this when you're a grown up, when can you do it?"
(His parents obviously instilled more manners in him than mine in me. I call the lack of manners a Good Time.)
Sometimes, my 10-year-old self realizes just how awesome it is to be a grown up.
Why?
No bed time. No one to tell you what you should or shouldn't be doing. No one to tell you that going outside with wet hair will make you sick. No one to tell you you can't have that box of Reese's Puffs you're craving like mad. (Hey. Don't act like you're immune to the craving.) No one to say that fudge and bread probably don't make the best dinner.
I remember when I was a kid and couldn't wait for all of this. Sometimes, I complain so much about all the busy-ness of life, bills, and other responsibilities that I forget just how lucky I am.
Now, please excuse me while I go pour myself some more wine into my coffee mug.
And all of this was after Mike and I went grocery shopping at Whole Foods and threw whatever the heck we wanted into the cart. On the way to the post office, I helped myself to some baguette and sharp cheddar cheese. I just ripped off a hunk of delicious, crusty bread and nibbled some cheese straight from the package.
Mike gave me eyes of judgment that said "That's disgusting, Ashley."
I gave him eyes of correction that said, "No, Mike, this is why being a grown up RULES."
Actually, I said, "If you can't do this when you're a grown up, when can you do it?"
(His parents obviously instilled more manners in him than mine in me. I call the lack of manners a Good Time.)
Sometimes, my 10-year-old self realizes just how awesome it is to be a grown up.
Why?
No bed time. No one to tell you what you should or shouldn't be doing. No one to tell you that going outside with wet hair will make you sick. No one to tell you you can't have that box of Reese's Puffs you're craving like mad. (Hey. Don't act like you're immune to the craving.) No one to say that fudge and bread probably don't make the best dinner.
I remember when I was a kid and couldn't wait for all of this. Sometimes, I complain so much about all the busy-ness of life, bills, and other responsibilities that I forget just how lucky I am.
Now, please excuse me while I go pour myself some more wine into my coffee mug.
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