I'm ready to go back to being a kid again.
I'm tired of worrying and stewing over money, jobs (or lack thereof), the child, the child's driving, his social life, his school, his mental health, and his regular health.
I'm tired of worrying about Hubby, his health, his state of mind, and why he isn't sleeping.
I'm tired of worrying about friends, their kids, and all of their well-being.
I'm tired of laundry (oh my God; AM I sick of laundry!), dusting, mopping, vacuuming, cleaning toilets, putting the toilet paper on the roll (this, apparently, is a job for only the highly skilled).
I'm tired of pushing the couch, the chair, the table and the trash can back into their proper places. I'm tired of wondering just WHY does Hubby move them in the first place??
In the same vein, I'm also tired of putting knick-knacks, books, papers, etc. back to where they belong. WHY does he feel the need to move them all the time anyway?! (Seriously, I need an answer to this one)
I'm tired of worrying about the health and well-being of family that is too far away for me to be of any assistance. I'm tired of thinking about the fact that I have family old enough (and far away enough) for me to be worrying about.
I'm tired of picking up glasses and plates left in random places, of trash that can never seem to make it into the trash can (which has been moved AGAIN, dammit!) in the first place.
I'm tired of alarm clocks and getting up at a ridiculously early time. I'm tired of putting on the happy face for work people - even though some of them REALLY deserve to see the mean face.
I'm tired of looking at my calendar and having nothing to really look forward to - except for dental visits, mammograms, yearly physicals and eye exams.
I'm ready to go back to looking forward to summer vacations, where there were no major expectations or worries. Of spending days upon days playing, reading, day-dreaming and just goofing off. Days where I didn't have to worry about anything larger than getting my chores (or homework, if school was in session) done. Days spent just hanging out with friends. Eating what I wanted, when I wanted, and not worrying about calories or cholesterol.
Days dreaming about the day I'd become the adult and I could do whatever I wanted.
When nobody could tell me what to do, or how to do it, because *I* would be an ADULT.....
Apparently, that day has come. And I don't like it. Not one little bit.