Remember when you were little and you and your friends would play make-believe games? Of course you do (maybe you and your friends still do – this is a no judging zone). I remember a particular game that could be played anywhere from our Kindergarten classroom’s “kitchen,” to refrigerator boxes in our backyards. Basically, we’d stake a claim in our territory, enforce proper regulations (no boys allowed, naturally), hoard whatever dress up costumes we had handy, and embark on a few hours’ worth of playing house.

The first step was obviously fighting over choosing which Disney prince was your BF (I’m looking at you, Prince Phillip). Then, after putting on lipstick and kissing a) your hand b) your Ken doll or c) your pillow, he would construct an elaborate proposal. Next thing you know, you’ve got your Mom’s heels on, a white sheet taped to your head and a gorgeous floral arrangement done entirely in weeds (nuisance plants are the next big thing for centerpieces, I’m telling you) in your sticky little hands as your BFF pronounces you and Prince Phillip (or Eric, he was always a solid choice too) married. Then you break out the big guns: your baby doll.

When you’ve got yourself surrounded by fake bottles, strollers, binkies and baby clothes, you know you’ve made it in the pretend game of playing house. Of course, my opinion on victory at playing house now is quite the opposite. In fact, I’ll go so far as to say that a baby right now would be a massive fail (on both my and LoEstrin24FE’s behalf).

But, it seems as though David and I are movin’ on up in the game of playing house. After some mild success (we have neither burned the house down nor broken up), I guess people are starting to realize how fantastically great we are at living together and have decided to reward us with some kids. And not just any kids – teenagers. Read More »

So, this is a story all about how my life got flipped, turned upside down a kid got grounded for three months when his sister ratted him out to his parents. With a lot of free time ahead of him and nothing to do, this kid decided to get some revenge. He snuck into his sister’s room and started snooping around.

And that’s when he found this. And posted it on Facebook. And tagged every single person mentioned in it.

I’m assuming this girl has learned her lesson… and never quite got through the rest of this list.

And if you don’t think this is true, check out the entire Facebook post here.

"If I clean this toilet I can have a beer tonight."

I’m constantly amazed at how challenging it is to be an adult. It’s like everyday there’s something new I have to do that won’t get taken care of unless I actually take the initiative to do it.

I’ve basically had to turn into a parent for myself in order to get anything done. I remind myself to do things repeatably even though I heard myself the first time, I nag myself incessantly to do gross chores around the apartment, and I even discipline and reward myself with a behavior chart I keep on the fridge. Five gold stars mean I can go out for happy hour on Friday.

I’ve recently put myself in time-out (spent all day on the couch watching whatever Sandra Bullock movie TBS plays) for breaking curfew and I’ve lectured myself about not taking vitamins when I started sniffling last week. I’m at the point that I think my actual mother feels left out when she calls because I’ve already covered her territory. She calls expecting an opportunity to nurture (tell me what to do) and instead she gets a co-parent complaining about misbehavior and paying the cable bill on time.

While I’ve enjoyed being a parent to myself and ending each night with a warm glass of milk and Goodnight Moon, I’ve started to wonder when I will transition from being a faux-adult to being a real one. Read More »