I’m sure you have all seen the trend whereby “adult” has become a verb. I can’t decide if I love this or hate it. Regardless, it is fun to bellyache and sympathize with one another on how much being a grown up outright sucks sometimes. The bills, the job, the housework, taxes, inspections stickers, insurance, doctors’ appointments, not being allowed to nap. When you get right down to it, once you’re 21 and can legally buy yourself a box of wine, there just isn’t a lot to celebrate about it.
But today, folks, I “adulted.” I have had white slacks on now for almost 8 hours and have not gotten a single spot on them. This is a big deal. I have 2 young disgusting children. I enjoy coffee, tea, and red wine. I typically run away from white fabric anything faster than an ant does from a magnifying glass on a sunny day. As a parent, you are playing Russian roulette if you wear white or (scoffs) have white furniture or carpeting. Those are totally rookie mistakes. Even beige is forbidden (and totally boring).
I know it won’t last. I still have carpool (low risk) and play school pickup (high risk) to navigate. And then, even if I get myself, my pants, and my children home in pristine condition whereupon I shall strip the white pants off as quickly as decently possible, there will be the laundering of said pants. You cannot launder anything in a vacuum. Inevitably, there is a Coco Puff, desiccated blueberry, or hot pink sparkly sock hiding somewhere in the depths of the whites.
But I will know. I will know I could do it, even if just for one day.