Being an adult can be harsh

Okay, so there are a whole lot of reasons that being an adult can be harsh. One of those reasons came to my mind this morning (as it has before).

We were rush around…um…I mean getting ready for school this morning. Noah wasn’t really paying attention to me, and it got to the point where I thought I would have to drag him out of the house to get down to the bus.

So, anyway, as I am trying to get him out of the house, I spun around at the door to call him to get going, and I hit my hand on the door frame. I thought, “OUCH!” Then I looked down to find that I had a flap of skin just hanging there (holding on tight on one side) on one of my fingers. I felt a little bit better to understand why in the world it hurt like that. And, in a move that is classic of my own mother, I said, “Noah — look what you made me do!” (Not in an angry way, but in a “feel sorry that you made me do this” way. LOL)

Okay…so where is this going, you may ask? Does the picture help clue you in? Yes, this is what is harsh about being an adult. As a kid, when you get hurt, your Mom can drag you into the bathroom kicking and screaming, and insisting that she WILL need to put peroxide on your wound. As an adult, you just have to walk to the bathroom thinking, “Dang it — this is REALLY going to hurt.”

Sure — I could have thrown myself onto the floor and kicked and cried, but then I probably would have just made one of the younger kids wake up. Geesh — being an adult really is harsh. (Can’t even throw a good tantrum without consequences.)

Okay…now me and my sore finger should get off the computer. Darn finger!

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