Being an Adult Who Holds Tight to His Sonic ScrewDriver is Tough
Life is a complete emotional roller coaster.
Sometimes, I get jealous of how easy kids have life. They’re issues right now is a sibling got more popcicles than they got, or they are being required to let someone else take a turn on Netflix before they were able to finish binge watching an entire season of Power Rangers. Man, it’s hard being a kid. Times is tough. We’re breeding country artists and rappers right and left anymore.
Adulthood is a whole other ballgame. I’m 31 years old at the time I’m writing this. I am a freshly minted middle age male. You go from teen and young adult with minimal cares, then suddenly every one expects you to grow up completely, and get your act together. Where’s the instruction manual, yo? Is there a set time frame that I have to put down all my toys, and get a briefcase? (I do have tons of toys… ehrm… I mean collectibles. I also have a briefcase… somewhere… buried in the rest of the junk.)
I’m a struggling nerd trying to find way through a Superbowl type world. You know how hard it is to survive when I’m the only one in my closest circle who knows what happened on Saturday’s episode of Doctor Who? It’s absolutely horrible. I mean, how can people not watch Doctor Who? NASCAR is so not as good. No offence to all you drivers out there who don’t know how to make a right turn. So yeah, I may be having an identity crisis trying to figure out where I fit in in an adult world.
Then there’s the job world. Don’t get me started. I have 5 children, and no college degree. I almost finished a year of college once. That’s the year I learned the word ADHD. I thought I was just a weird child in High School. My Parents never took me to get tested. Here I am now, un-diagnosed, but definitely struggling with it. I got all the way to my finals, and I just couldn’t anymore. Daycare for so many children is almost impossible. So my wife has a full time job load in para medicine while I am working part time with in-home care, photography, and being a struggling writer. By struggling writer, I mean I have this brand new blog here that I hope may one day have some sort of following enough to buy me a Pepsi every week. Here’s to big goals!
Those 5 children are a whole other can of worms. I have four of them at home, and one in Heaven. She passed away at the age of 6 months old. I’ll let me wife fill you in on that another day. The ones at home, we are told, are great kids. They’re very well behaved and disciplined. They’re helpful members of society, and are often called on in church and school when there are important tasks to be done. That being said, the ones that tell us these things usually don’t have to deal with them all in one confined space called a 3 bedroom home. I know myself that they are good. But they are kids. Even good kids have some bad or annoying tendencies. The two oldest don’t like each other. The two youngest are creative… in the paint on the wall, tear up cardboard, and build forts around the entire house sort of way.
With all those overwhelming stressers above, I still wouldn’t have it any other way. I love my children, and each moment they bring to the table. They are completely individual in their own way. They’re nerds and jocks, artists and actors. I have the most amazing wife who can completely speak her mind in those moments where I am locked in my introverted self. When times look bleak, they all bind together, and can get through any darkness. So I dare Dormammu to knock on our door. We may not have a gun, but we do have each other, and possibly a couple sonic screwdrivers at our disposal.