When I was a younger version of my current self I would often wonder what I would look like when I was "a grown-up". I wondered how I would act and what I'd do. Just what would it be like to be "a grown-up"?
Since then I've learned a few things about being a grown-up. One requirement for achieving this status, that no one can escape, is time. You need time to grow up. In the eyes of the land, 18 is the official age of "grown-up". I'm sure many of us know 18 year olds who we would firmly declare grown-up. And I'm sure there are many of us who know 18 year olds who are FAR from that status.
For me being a grown-up implies that I can take care of myself. I can do things. Not only that, I can do HARD things.
It also means I can manage myself, my time, my energy, and my health. The epitome of being a grown-up, I imagine, is when you have to do that for someone else, namely, children of your own.
Today being grown-up meant that I went to the dry cleaners.
I currently own one dress that needs dry cleaning. I've managed to avoid cleaning it for the past (ahem) 5 years. One fateful Sunday last summer when it was 100 degrees outside, it was my day to teach in Relief Society, we decided to walk to church that day, and I forgot deodorant finally put my dress "out of commission". Since then it's been in my closet, stuffed on a shelf in a pile of "clothes that I need do something extra with besides wash and dry them". This pile doesn't include ironing. I have separate, special pile for those things.
Then, a few months ago, we were at a family thing where we were all in our Sunday clothes. While Zack was holding one of the little tykes (who shall remain nameless) the monkey managed to leave a damp spot on his suit pants.
When we got home I promptly put his suit and my dress in a new pile: "Stuff to be dry cleaned soon." I even put the pile in a conspicuous spot so I wouldn't forget to do something with it. That was three months ago. The pile has remained intact, though it has been moved occasionally when company came over. Don't worry, when the company left, I remembered to put the pile back in it's official spot on the banister.
I've been putting it off because, to put it in D'Nellie-esque fashion, I'm kind of scared of dry cleaners. Today I decided to just do it. With encouraging words from Zack who said I could put minutes on my emergency phone and talk to him the whole time (Thanks SOOOO much, Sweetie. I know you feel my pain.), I set off. I had visions of a tiny, cramped looking shop with a no-nonsense Asian lady behind the counter busily doing ...something dry cleaning-ish. Don't ask me why the lady was tiny and foreign. Maybe I've watched too many Seinfeld episodes. Anyway, for some reason I was nervous to go. But I went.
I pulled up to the dry cleaners and walked inside the large spacious room where a teenage girl smiled from behind the counter. I confidently put the items on the counter and said, "Hi. I just have these four things...er, items." She asked for my name and number and told me how much it was. I tried to look nonchalant as I pulled out my check card. I've done this a hundred times at least. Used my check card, that is. She gave me my receipt and said my clothes would be done tomorrow at 5:00. I said thanks and as I was walking out the door I glanced to my left at what appeared to be the other half of the shop and was startled to see myself. Duh. I was looking in a mirror. My reflection looked exactly as I felt: someone who wasn't a teenager, but who wasn't a "grown up". I had a pinched, almost mean-looking expression on my face. That's my look when I'm concentrating on something or when I'm nervous. (I won't say it hasn't come in handy at teenage dances when someone asks me to dance and I don't want to. What appears to be indifference and meanness is really shyness and fear. But at least I look strong, right?)
As I was pulling out of the parking lot, right next to an intersection, a car slowed down so I could pull out in front of them. I said "thanks" out loud and gave them the "courtesy wave". And there it was. I was a grown-up. I gave someone a courtesy wave. Only grown-ups do that. Success! And, also like a grown-up, I'm picking up my dry cleaning tomorrow. I think I'll try and squeeze that into my conversations between now and then so everyone else will know how grown-up I am. "It's been great talking to you, but I've got to run. I have to go pick up my dry cleaning before they close. You know how those places are, if you leave your things...er, items there for more than a day they lose them..."
11 years ago
5 comments:
I feel your pain of taking clothes to the dry cleaners. Steve has asked me to drop off or pick up clothes for him before and it is like pulling teeth for me. To say the least...I have only ever picked up clothes for him (and it really wasn't that bad, I hand them the reciept, they gave me the clothes and that was that, I assume dropping stuff off is that easy too). BUT I have yet to venture on dropping them off...
Carrie you are more of a grown-up than I!
If dropping off dry cleaning defines a grown-up, I guess I've been a grown-up since I was sixteen because my mom would have me run that errand for her every once in a while. JaNan also worked at a dry cleaners and I would often visit her so any residual fear I had of dry cleaners was resolved by that fact.
It's interesting to think about the definition of a grown-up. For me it's the freedom to do whatever I want whenever I want but realizing that I am responsible for all the consequences. Being a grown-up is also having to do a whole bunch of things I don't really want to do (like getting auto insurance quotes, paying bills, etc.)
My niece says that when she is a grown-up and she is a mom, she will let her children watch television all day and she will eat ice cream whenever she wants. Wouldn't that be fun if being a grown-up was all about eating ice cream whenever you want (and you didn't gain weight)? Being a grown-up is fun, but sometimes I wish I could be a kid again.
Yay! Let's have a grown-up party! My "grown-up" achievement came when I had to take my car to get repaired...all by myself and didn't have the mechanic talk to my mom or my brother about the problem. But back to the party...seriously, we need to celebrate!
Thanks for reminding me about my own pile of clothes that need more attention then washing or ironing. I try and keep them tucked in the far corner of my closet - that way I forget about them, and the thorn in my side that they are. I like to call it the land of missing buttons and baby goop stains. Who, Me, wear a suit to church? Not any more! I've got Kids!
What I want to know is why my pants always come back all shiny and stuff, like they've been 70's-afied or something. What's up with That?!
I got a Fever! and the only prescription is more dry cleaner! (by the way, I read the other day that dry cleaners and iPods are the main cause for global warming)
I remember hearing something in a movie or tv show that the first step to being a grown-up is to stop using the term grown-up and use the term adult. I guess I'm not quite there because I don't always want to label myself as an adult!
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