“Grown-Up” Really Isn’t a Bad Word….Who Knew?!?

When Did You Realize That You Had Become A Grown-Up? Think about it - your answer might surprise you.

“Honey, put your shoes away. Daddy and I spent good money on those.”

My Mom said this to me every afternoon when I came home from school, as I kicked my shoes across the kitchen floor, and draped myself across a chair (leather, Pottery Barn – no doubt they spent good money on this item too). I couldn’t help but think…if you guys spent such good money on my shoes, why should I put them away? Shouldn’t everyone who enters be able to view my shoes? Yes, even as a kid, I was sarcastic.

One day I actually said it out loud and I got the parental glare of disdain which I promptly followed with, “Oh Mom, you’re such a grown-up.” I remember the pride I took in saying it with such angst.

Fast forward - When I came home for my first winter break from college with my dorm room packed up, my withdrawl form from the University in hand and proudly announced that I had dropped out to drive cross-country and take some time to enjoy my youth, I got the look of disappointment followed by a reality check from my Dad. Come January I would be returning to a college. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Geez, just another buzz kill grown-up.

College graduation - my parents were so proud, had their cameras at the ready and inquired constantly what I planned to do now that I was entering the world as a grown-up. The thing was, I didn’t feel much like a grown-up.

I would play the game, go through the motions, apply for jobs but in my heart, I was still a kid, excited for another summer on Cape Cod. I spent 20 summers on the Cape at my parents’ summer home, I wasn’t ready to trade in the flip flops for pantyhose, thank you very much.

At 16, my parents insisted I get a summer job – to help pay for the shoes and designer clothes they kept insisting that I put away. As grown-ups, they thought a part-time summer job would make me appreciate all of my carefree days and that at some point, I too had to grow up. Being the kid I was though, I got a job on a strawberry farm. It abutted a sparkling lake, required minimal labor, paid well, and I was done by noon. In my eyes, it was a dream come true, I could go to work fairly messy, I was outside enjoying nature while getting a tan, making money and best of all, I could still spend all day at the beach, evenings out with friends. Ah youth – something my parents, as grown-ups, couldn’t appreciate no doubt.

Fast forward - I got a job. A real job. One that required me to wear a suit and heels. I worked at the State Prosecutors Office – a very grown-up job. I liked the work. I liked the people and the socializing better. All the suits and pantyhose and responsibilities still, did not make me feel like a grown-up.

After a couple of grown-up years at work, I went to graduate school. A very grown-up thing to do. But I chose to go to graduate school in Newport, RI and when my dad asked me how classes were, my response was that I could see the ocean from every class. Ah, still just a youth.

I got a much coveted job (you know, the one where I get paid to be nice to people). Same feeling as the State Prosecutor’s Office. Loved the job. Appreciated having it. After all, it paid for my seaside apartment and introduced me to lots of new, fun friends. Nope, still didn’t feel grown-up.

I was making decent money so I upgraded to an apartment with a guest room. I had apartments before but could only ever afford a studio or 1 bedroom. Good enough for me, people could crash on the couch if the stayed over. So was it the 2 bedroom apartment that made me realize I was a grown-up? No, not exactly.

My 26^th birthday. By then, I was an Auntie. I had a professional career. I had earned a masters degree. I was a self-sufficient, strong young woman. None of this made me feel like a grown-up. But on that fateful 26^th birthday, my parents gift was to offer to buy me a bed for my guest room. “So you can have proper company” my Mom explained. Not some hand me down mattress. Not a futon. Not a $99 special or Salvation Army find but they offered to buy me a real bed to set up the spare room for “proper company”. Here is the kicker….I WAS TOTALLY EXCITED FOR IT.

I comparison shopped. I wheeled-and-dealed with the area mattress companies. I thought about sheets and comforters. I was excited to have company pay me a visit. On the day the mattress and box spring arrived, I was so excited. The delivery men couldn’t get out of my way fast enough. Finally, with the room set up, I stood back and admired the guest bed. Leaning in the doorframe, sun gleaming through newly Windexed windows, dust floating through the air, with an enormous sense of happiness for my birthday gift is when it hit me. I’m excited about a guest bed. A bed. I got a bed as a birthday gift and I’m happy about it. I mean, it isn’t even a bed I was going to sleep in and yet, I couldn’t wait to show it off. Right there, in that doorframe, three days after my 26^th birthday is when the realization settled in – I had grown up. I was, in fact, a grown-up.

I had to share my revelation with my parents so I got to the phone and invited them for a proper visit – to stay in my guest room with the new beautiful bed. When they arrived the following weekend, I served them lunch, bought them dinner, made breakfast the next morning. It was unbelievable. I talked to my parents as adults and we laughed and I discovered that being grown up is fun.