“Circle time!” My kindergarten teacher’s unusually high, lispy voice echoed in my small ears as I ducked under the playhouse door and cast aside my apron.
I played the mom on Tuesdays.
I took my spot in what I now remember as an oval as opposed to a circle. The carpet was a strange mix of navy, orange, and copper colors. They were all mixed together in some sort of awful concoction. I sat “Indian style” (totally politically correct…) and impatiently rocked side to side awaiting directions.
“Let’s talk about what we want to be when we grow up!” The teacher sang as she sat in her worn rocking chair, brushing a golden curl out of her brown eyes.
“Accountant.” (Who the heck was that kid?)
I would love to conduct a long-term study determining what percentage of those kiddos actually grew up to be what they said they would be in Kindergarten.
I was one of the kids who sang out “teacherrrrrr!” I don’t know now if I meant it, or if I was brownnosing (quite possibly the latter… I was notorious for that later in life).
But I said it.
And it did happen.
At least for a little while.
My teacher collected responses from all the children and continued to sing an awful song about growing up and accomplishing your wildest dreams.
I threw up my pizza all over the carpet a few moments later.
Let’s step back.
I’m a millennial.
And I’d place bets that you are, too.
Or perhaps you are the parent of one. Which is not easy. Kudos to you for not killing your kid and doing the best you could.
The life of a millennial, the whole growing up thing, seems to be different than the way our parents or grandparents grew up. But really, the life of our parents and grandparents was different than their parents and grandparents. This modern phenomenon of millennials and how they stereotypically think and act is fascinating to me, and even more so because I am a member of this group, chronologically speaking.
As I exited my teens and started the journey through my 20’s, I found myself and many others around my age using the term “adulting” as we completed major life changes or experienced certain successes.
Suddenly, the word “adult” became a verb.
And as it became a verb, it became a goal that seems to be difficult to successfully achieve. Every millennial’s end-goal is to become the successful adult.
Cool. I’ve got a direction.
The only trouble is…. How do I even go in the right direction??
I think everyone journeys into adulthood differently. And sometimes there are instances of pure “adulting” without being described as an actual adult.
I mentioned adulting to an old childhood friend, and how fascinating it is to see each other again as completely different people. He responded, “Well. The paychecks certainly don’t say I am an adult.”
Is bringing home a fat paycheck what the expectation of adulting has become?
Perhaps. For some.
I want to shed some light on this thing called life and #adulting.
Let’s get real for a sec.
I’m nothing special. But I’m me.
And you’re you. Maybe you’ve got like, 20 followers on Instagram including your grandmother. But you’re you, and we’re real. And there’s no one else like us. Maybe you’re a gen x-er who is unusually hip, or a member of Gen Z who actually sets down your smart phone, but my guess is you’re a millennial struggling to find your spot and watching reality
Totally been there.
You’re not alone.
Adulting is hard, the world is crazy, and there are so many real moments that pierce your lungs like ice and take your breath away. If you look back a moment, how many times would you stop and say, “Whoa, is this actually happening to me?”
And how many of those instances would deserve a “#adulting” caption on Twitter?
We don’t know what we’re doing.
And it’s all good.