Confession: I'm just a big kid

Do you remember being a child and looking up at the adults around you wanting to be them? They seemed so together, so cool. I remember aspiring to be an adult wearing a suit, drinking red wine and black coffee, tapping away at a computer keyboard all day.

As an adult approaching my 34th birthday, I can confirm that being a grown up is not cool.

Certainly not as cool as it looked in the eyes of a 10 year old me anyway.

But then, there is an argument to say I've never actually grown up. I don't feel like I have most days, I just muddle along, pretending to be adult but really, I'm just a big kid with more responsibilities.

I'm an emotional eater, if I'm stressed or depressed I either eat too much or too little and nearly everything I eat is linked more to comforting thoughts than a typically healthy attitude to nourishment. I thought this would pass the older I got, that I'd start to like eating salads and seafood, that I'd acquire a more sophisticated palette, but no. I like to eat coco pops for breakfast, fish finger sandwiches for lunch and cake and custard are go to options at all times of the day.

Despite being a parent, with two adorable children of my own to comfort, I still cry for my parents when something goes wrong. A few years ago, I slipped on an icy patch whilst walking to work and scuffed my knee. There were a few people in the street watching, so I did what any self-respecting woman would do. I got up, dusted myself down, turned around and walked home to change. And as soon as I was out of sight, I started crying and picked up the phone to call my Mum.

In the same way I expect to be worrying about my children's health and happiness forever, I know that when things go wrong, I'll never really outgrow the instinct to run to my Mummy and Daddy.

I like dressing up (not in a kinky way, although I wouldn't rule it out, this is a family blog you know). At heart, I'm just a girl who wishes I could wear princess dresses every day. It was a big factor behind my historical re-enactment hobby and I know that if I won the lottery tomorrow, I'd happily splurge on ridiculously intricate cosplay costumes, just so I can wear them whilst doing the hoovering and washing.

Now there's an image you didn't expect.

Let's be honest here, they just don't make children's toys like they used to. Does anyone else remember the Bluebell Magical Theatre? or the traditional Polly Pocket? Micro Machines? The Sylvanian Families Canal Boat?

1980s and 1990s toys were the best. Fact.

But I still get excited about seeing the new releases I know my kids would love. And when they get them, I want to play with them too. For example, Ollie got a vTech Switch and Go Dino for his birthday this year - it has a remote control and transforms from a race car to a T-Rex in seconds and we all (parents, kids and family friends) couldn't wait to have a go. Similarly, I spent nearly an hour last week setting up Lily's Sylvanian Families sets like a little street. When the kids were at school and I was meant to be cleaning.

Oh well...

In the same way, I know I'm probably more excited about new kids films than anyone else in my family. Especially Disney films. I love nearly all things Disney. Who doesn't love a bit of magic in their lives?

I'm not quite as bad as my kids when it comes to hoarding tons of junk, precious artwork, Happy Meal freebies and a crazy amount of cuddly toys but I will admit, I can see where they get it from.

I just hate throwing stuff away. I drive Matt crazy by treasuring tons unlimited stacks of artwork the children have lovingly produced, every single certificate they receive and extra special schoolwork, speeches, reports, letters... Actually, pretty much anything that I think I might look back on in ten years time and weep at the passage of time.

My sense of humour can probably be described as juvenile at best. Silly, rude, naughty or sweary jokes will always cause me to laugh out loud and any innuendo has me sniggering like a 16 year old. Then there's all the jokes about bodily functions. I find the sound of breaking wind hilarious. Poop jokes crack me up. Slapstick comedy rules supreme.

When it comes to comedy, I'm definitely a small child in the body of an adult. Often found at the back of the school meeting, attempting to stifle my giggles at some unintended reference to a sexual act.

Seriously, I'm hilarious.

Is it time to grow up?
When I first started writing this post I was yearning to be a sophisticated, mature, ladylike figure. I didn't like being described as a teen as having a 'raucous laugh' or being told I should read more serious literature than Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. And yet, here I am 20 years on with a laugh that my (oh-so-loving) husband describes as a 'witches cackle', eating a bowl of coco pops and singing along to Frozen.

In an ideal world, maybe I would be a carefully curated canvas portrait of sensible appearance and behaviour.

But doesn't that sound incredibly boring?
libchris said...

I still remember the horror I felt as a kid, when I realised that being grown up meant you would have to take full responsibility for your actions, and there would be no 'grown up' there to check what you did was OK ;-)

I wouldn't worry too much about hoarding their art works. Discovered when I was 50+ that Dad still had the certificate I won as a 7 year old for coming 3rd in the egg and spoon race! Though to be fair that was probably the height of my sporting achievements ;-)

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