Land of the Giants

Can you really be described as a 'grown-up' if you still use the phrase 'grown-up'?

I know that I am technically an adult. I know this because I'm allowed credit cards and a driver's license and the powers-that-be make me pay council tax. Adult, yes. But a grown-up?

This is a phrase I tend to reserve for people like my parents - the kind of people who are never late paying bills; who don't buy everything shiny they see, and who make sensible, well-thought-out decisions in every aspect of their lives. Grown-up, is a term exclusively for people who Have Their Shit Together (at least, that's the description I'd use if I was American and cool enough to pull it off).

Those of you who know me personally, will know that about a month and a half ago - after having my second baby, I up'd sticks and moved with the offspring to a picturesque little part of Somerset in order to take advantage of the cheap housing British armed forces offer married couples. My imagination before the move, tortured me with typically contradictory pictures of blissful cohabitation vs a jobless, friendless me rocking relentlessly in a corner while children ran circles around my complete inability to run a household with any kind of organisation. The only constant, was the assumption that I would not change personally. I would remain the same. I would still shop too much on payday, only notice that a clothes wash needed doing after discovering there are no clean socks in my daughter's drawer and instinctively order a pizza if I couldn't make a decision on dinner. Imagine my surprise then, when after only a few short weeks, the following is true:

I have put Will Smith up for sale. A difficult decision and one I did not take lightly. (For those of you out of the loop, Will is my car - named thus on account of his being black and beautiful). Normally, a car of mine would be on the market simply because a shinier, flashier car caught my eye and I absolutely could not live without it a second longer. Though our new car is lovely - a VW Passat for anyone interested, the motive for buying is a shocker: It is more economical. Far more miles to the gallon. Cheaper to run over the course of many years. More of a family car. I astound even myself.

We have a food budget. This budget is like the super-hero of budgets. With the cunning use of a pen and some paper, the husband and I worked out exactly how much we spend on food a month. On payday, we draw this amount out in cash and keep it somewhere safe - split up into weekly amounts. Around the third week in the month - when I'd usually be breaking out in a cold sweat and wondering if maybe I shouldn't have bought everything in Accessorize, in swoops the super-hero budget with enough money to keep us comfortably fed and watered until payday.

We own a cat and have managed to keep her alive for a good few weeks now. She has a bed and a litter tray and I never forget to make sure she has biscuits in her bowl. That's not one, but TWO children and a cat. Someone once told me that it wasn't possible to look after pets and children at the same time - an assumption that either the children or the pet would end up neglected, malnourished and mentally scarred. I'm here to tell you - that's a myth. It is possible. It's almost enjoyable. Either that, or without noticing I have suddenly become some kind of wonder-woman; simultaneously combining small humans and animals under one roof and managing to keep them all breathing in and out.

I like wine. For years now, I've mmmmm'd appreciatively upon sipping wine, but my heart simply wasn't in it. The mmmmming was insincere and I always gagged just a little at the after-taste. But now, alongside the car and the budget, kittens and children, I can now drink wine at a rate of which any suburban semi-alcoholic housewife would be proud. My mmmming is entirely truthful and appropriate. I am the essence of grown-up sophistication. 

So there you have it - a near complete transition from mere adult to fully-formed grown-up. Wipe your eyes of proud tears, people - I'm finally old enough to be left in the house on my own.