Undomesticated Goddess: Our Life Learning to Adult

I lack life skills. I don’t know what happened in my life that made me unable to adult, but somewhere along the way when everyone else was learning how to take care of adult things and be responsible, I remained in the infancy stage.

For normal adults, college would have been a time to be “dropped in the deep end” of life and it’s sink or swim. I chose to float. While I managed to finish four years of school on my own, I did so by paying people to do things I didn’t or couldn’t do. I’m not just talking changing my oil or raking leaves. I paid my best friend countless times to clean my bedroom, organize things and wash dishes. My entire junior year I was too idiotic/lazy to fix my bed so I slept on a gangster lean smashed against my wall.

I flat out refused to give in to the notion that I was going to have to grow up. I gambled on my chances of finding a man that would (hopefully) be a prince and I would have a full staff to get me through my day-to-day. Well, this week marks six years since my husband and I met and it has been nothing short of unglamorous.

My husband told me even before we met that he had no man skills. He told me he doubted his ability to even hang a picture. He quickly became aware that my homemaker skills were about on par with his carpentry skills. Maybe not immediately, but when my cleaning lady showed up, he got the message.

We lived that first year in a bubble of bliss. We worked, came home to a clean home (thanks to my maid), ordered whatever delivery meal we wanted and however much we wanted and thought we had this grown-up thing all figured out. Our fridge held one half-full bottle of margarita mix and our cupboards had one lone, dusty box of Hamburger Helper. We were helpless.

Then kids happened.

The remaining five years of our relationship have been a vicious wake-up call. We spent a long time pretending we still didn’t have to face the music. Our beds didn’t have sheets. Our grass was 14 inches tall. When things broke we threw them out. That was about all we could handle. It was all too much! Where is my maid?! What happened to Pizza Hut every night?! How does this oven turn on?!

But, after many burnt dinners, lots of calls to our family, and endless amounts of tears, we teamed up and shit got handled. I don’t know where or when but this week I looked around and saw that we actually resembled adults. Our bed is made with actual sheets that are actually clean. Our dryer broke and instead of throwing it on the curb and heading to Sears like we did with our washing machine, my husband fixed it. All.On.His.Own. Like, with tools and everything.

What is happening?!

We have a family calendar. We own a weed eater (and use it). While, I miss my maid more than I miss my perky breasts, she is no more. I clean the top AND bottom of the toilet (who knew?). I’m an adult! He’s an adult!

We are doing it.

Who knows, in another six years, maybe we can learn how to change our own oil? The possibilities are endless.

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