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.
The house isn't going to clean itself and you can bet your ass Hossmom won't help. She'll pretend to help but honestly, she just makes it worse. She knows how to do it and when she does it, it's actually pretty good. What she doesn't know how to do though is to clean house with 3 kids trailing you. Sunday her job was to do laundry. She was able to wash a sock.
But that's ok, this is my wheelhouse, I've been doing this for 5 years. What she is missing is the hardcore music. She'll have some Celine Deon blaring but that just makes matters worse. Nope, you need something better.
A little Black Sabbath is how I always start. A little N.I.B. or perhaps War Pigs. Yup, that does it. Now the juices are flowing and I can get those floors cleaned because Bacon Hoss is now mobile. Bacon learned to crawl a couple of weeks ago and now he pretty much follows me around the house like a dog. Which is good because I'm supposed to be watching him. From watching him I have noticed that he likes to eat paper and poop himself. Not much gong on there but I appreciate the company.
After Sabbath finishes up, we get a little SpaceLord, followed by Blur, NIN and Taylor Swift.
I can really vacuum well to some Blur and Taylor.
Fuck. Wait, no Taylor. Just a mistake on that one as we push the fast forward button on our ITunes.
This is what you need to know about being married with 3 kids, one of whom is a 7 year old girl with a mother that loves the show tunes and sing alongs. Eventually, you will all just have the same ITunes account. And then it will all download on your phone. That's cool, no problem. I like to see what my wife listens to and what she allows my daughter listen to. It's no Metallica mind you, but it's wholesome music. A bit sappy for my tastes, a bit teen angst without the rightous anger, but it's ok. She can sing about Romeo and Juliet with Mom, coolio. Sure, I could make my own playlists but that would require quiet and 10 minutes of piece. This is something I do not have. During the day we adventure, during the night I referee and spend 3 hours doing bedtime for everyone because they need a drink of water, or to be tucked in, or to check a closet, complete a last minute school assignment, snuggle the baby, get more water, the toilets clogged, let's talk about our day and Oh look, Hossmom found a spider and is now hiding in her car.
My point is, it can get a bit busy. I am writing this at 11:30 at night.
I quickly change the Taylor Swift and her broken heart. I have to go past Aqua and their smash hit "Barbie Girl" and I die a bit inside. I end up on Rage Against the Machine. Yup, this will do it.
I am the father to two sons, Bubba Hoss and Bacon Hoss. It is up to me to show them the ropes, to introduce new challenges to them and to show them the difference between emotion filled classics by Motley Crew and shield them from the travesty that is "The Cup Song" which my daughter and every other 7 year old currently loves.
Rage can get to me, I like the anger, the anti-establishment of some of their stuff. I don't know why as I have always been pretty much the definition of a rule follower. Maybe it's the freedom that I can feel through the lyrics, even though I'll admit I can't understand half of them.
"Empty ya pockets son; they got you thinkin that
What ya need is what they sellin
Make you think that buyin is rebellin"
That gets me in the mood to start punching stuff. And when they continue
" 'Cause, baby, you're a firework
Come on, show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh"
As you shoot across the sky-y-y"
That right there gets the blood flowing. Crapola, wait, that's not rage. Sorry, a little Katie Perry snuck herself right in there didn't she? At least the song is uplifting, which is good for my daughter. I'm a 38 year old man trying to clean house and then go build something out of wood. I need mood music of my generation, something with a good video with it. Nirvana, there ya go. A little teen spirit was the anthem of my last year of highschool. We all wore black boots and flannel in the Texas heat. Fuck we were cool. And in the video when they had the goth cheerleaders, hot. And it means something although none of us knew the lyrics with Senior Mushmouth but we didn't have to damit! We just assumed it was about oppressing the suburban kids with high school letter jackets and how we needed to keep a poker face because when it's love , if it's not rough then it's not fun. God damint, Lady Gaga.
See, this is what shows up on my Itunes. It's hard to get myself motivated when I've got The Offspring one minute and then Julie Andrews belting out the Lonely Goatherder the next minute. And don't get me wrong, The Phantom of the Opera is a great set play list and I'm glad my wife and daughter enjoy singing together on it, but would it kill you to throw a little Primus in there? My Name Is Mud is so under rated. I feel my daughter should know this.
And let's be honest, I can't get my clean on while Katie Perry roars at a tiger which makes no god damn sense. You know what makes sense? Tool. That makes sense. Those weird ass video's of little wooden puppets walking around some Hellraiser world. That spoke to me in my pseudo "I've got problems" early college years.
So I put on Tool and I angerly scour the toilet. That's some toilet scrubbing music if there ever was any. With all of us in the house, our toilets get a work out. And it's my job to make sure they are tip top shape. Tool is what is needed, Tool is what I get.
Then La Seine comes on.
This is the French version, perhaps you have heard of it. It's from a movie called Monsters in Paris. My daughter loves the movie and the song. So I found it for her. I couldn't find the English version but no matter, we sing it in French.
That's right, I rock right along beside her. I have no fucking clue what I'm singing but damnit if I don't sing it at the top of my lungs. I don't even know what La Seine means, what it refers to but it's a good song. The only thing I"m missing right now is my daughters voice right along side of mine. Then Bubba Hoss can do a little funny dance that always ends with me tackling everyone and playing tickle monster until we are crying. Bacon will struggle over and want to get into the action as well so I just throw him on top of the pile and it's a French beat down.
I get the bathroom done then I put on "The Cup Song" video. I'm going to learn it and teach it to them when they get home from school.
Bacon Hoss continues to eat paper in a very grunge way. I am happy.