Eighteen is seven months away,
Each day I’m learning a little more about what adult means.
It’s the time in our lives when diapers and pull ups are exchanged for boxers and thongs.
Our sippy cups for have changed into
Coffee, shots and beer cans.
Our daycare turned into jobs.
Standardized tests are no longer chances to be out of class.
Home is no longer our safe place,
And projects include things like annotated bibliographies or nine page essays.
Midafternoon birthday parties have turned into late night, floor thumping music parties.
And laughter has turned into moans.
Bruises don’t come from falling down anymore; they’re results of our partner’s wrath.
We care more about our waistline now than being on the right path.
Friendships have become spider webs of complexity
And bedtimes have turned to, unlocking the front door at 3am.
Dress up is no longer a game to be played in my mother’s closet,
But rather in Victoria’s secret or Aeropostle.
Short hair is no longer acceptable unless you’re a lesbian or male.
And baby bumps aren’t just mommy and daddy’s deal now.
Religion isn’t just Jesus Loves Me anymore,
Rather it’s he loves you if you pray,
Go to church
And aren’t gay.
We’re still in color discrepancies and wars over seas.
It’s no longer sitting at the dinner table until we eat our peas.
If this is what being a grown up is being like,
Then count me out, this isn’t fun.
Because if this is what real life is then I’m done.