It's not that you have a mortgage or a professional job that makes you feel like you are an adult.  It's not the different ailments that you get as you get older, the recovery time that takes longer.  It's not that you understand what a goiter actually is or that people start putting only 1 candle on your birthday cake rather than you true age that you know that you are becoming more mature.  Those are all things that, sure, come with age but those things don't really give you the "Hey, I'm an adult now!" feeling.  It's more of a "shit, I went to sleep and now my back hurts" thing.

No, what truly lets you know that you've reached adult hood and that you are truly mature, so mature that you can actually tell the difference between knowledge and wisdom, is the things that you actually get excited about now versus when you were younger.

As a kid I would get up at 3 am to play a new video game just so I wouldn't have to share with my brother.  I would be beside myself when it was pizza day at school.  I couldn't sleep at night when I knew that tomorrow we were going to build that bitching ramp and jump that awesome ditch and that girls would be watching and they would think that I'm cool and would want to touch me places although I had no idea where those places were and why I would desire it so.

Those are all moments of true excitement that you lose when you get older.  You find yourself thinking, eh, I don't care what games are out now, stupid kids and their next gen systems.  You think that pizza is going to give you heart burn and the first thing you put on your grocery list is antacid.  And never in a million years would you ever jump that ditch again because you ended up getting hurt and if you got hurt now it would be a good month before you were back to normal because you have the ankles of a field mouse and there is no way that fucker heals fast without 25 trips to the doctors office and some old man calisthenics done in tighty whities.  Although, getting touched by a chick is still pretty awesome.

As you age you lose that joyous wonder at the simple things and you can mark your maturity by what does excite you now.

I'm beside myself with joy when Bacon Hoss sleeps through the night and doesn't wake up before 6am.  This has become my pizza day.  Sometimes the stupid fat dog goes into his room and jumps up on the spare bed we have in there.  She is so happy in her ignorant stupid dog head to be on her own bed that her stupid ignorant dog tail whacks the stupid bed post in a loud "thunk, thunk, thunk" sound.  This wakes the baby.  The baby wakes mom.  Mom wakes Dad.  Dad passes gas and spends the next hour trying to convince the child that sleep is a fucking great thing, much greater than any pizza he will have in any school that he will attend.  The child does not believe me so I usually resort to threats such as "I'm leaving your mother unless you go to sleep" or "I will eat all the cheerios and not give you any unless you go to bed."  As you might expect, he does not listen to me because at 8 months old he does not use logic.  He only screams.  And when I make it through a night without the ninja dog defeating every barrier I have put up to block her fat but from getting in there, I am beside myself with joy.

You can tell in the morning my mood by the breakfast I make.  Cold toast with a side of coffee for the two older kids, Bacon was up at 3 am and didn't go down again until 4.  Pancakes for everyone, sweet sweet sleep.

When I spend the day cleaning the house, it is a shot to my sanity when the kids get home from school in the late afternoon.  For a short period of time, my floors were clean.  There were no crushed grapes on it.  My bathroom did not exhibit the unmistakable marksmanship of a fiver year old and his penis.  Bubba Hoss is not allowed to speak to anyone while taking a leak because he has the bad habit of turning his body and looking at the person while he is peeing.  As I do find this creepy at times, I know that it is because he has the attention span of a squirrel on red bull.  He literally forgets that he is holding his junk and that urine is coming out of it.  "Bubba!" I'll yell at him which makes him jump which makes his aim go high and that's why I've cleaned off pee stains on the top of the toilet from a little man that can barely see over it.  But sometimes they come home and they don't destroy the house that I spent 5 hours cleaning like they are Katrina.  Sometimes, and it's not often, they actually put away their toys, do not throw food on the floor, remember to put up their towels, and don't step on the dog with their soccer cleats so she pee's on the floor.  Mind you, that didn't happen today.  I cleaned all day and Hossmom came home and promptly stepped in a pee puddle right in front of the front door.  That's what she noticed and I can't blame her, heels are not that grippy.  But when everything goes right, it's like Christmas morning.

Hossmom has recently changed jobs.  Her old job had insurance that frankly, sucked donkey balls.  The premiums where high, the deductible was high, no co pays, medications at full cost until the deductible was met and we had to give locks of hair from each of our children to little leprechauns who wanted me to guess their names.  But Hossmom has a new job now and we have a low premiums, much lower than before.  And the deductible is a god damn joke, I spend that much on bandages in a year already (we get hurt alot around here).  We have copays, medication is covered, vision is covered, sweet Jesus in the morning our dental is covered at no additional cost.  Now, I'm not going to get political here, but having crap insurance to having good insurance is an amazing fucking thing.  It's awesome.  It's Christmas morning and your birthday all in two low monthly payments.  This is what gets me excited now, this is the sign of maturity that I was waiting for.  The difference between good health insurance and crappy health insurance.  Ours is all employer based of course so there isn't much of a choice.  You take a job, you take the insurance, you live with it.  But to have one that won't constantly be trying to get me to name my first born to "Aflac" is enough to make me take Hossmom out for a steak dinner and seeing if, after 3 kids, I can convince her to touch me in those unknown places. 

Hell, if she wants me to get the old bike out and jump that ditch I've got no problem with that.  

No comments:

Post a Comment