I had to buy a new fridge this week and as always
happens when I dip a toe into the world of grown-ups (where people expect you
to know details like the measurements of the space available and whether you
need a freezer section) I found myself flummoxed and feeling totally
inadequate.
Before you ask – no I’m not a teenager or even a
delayed twenty something. I’m a woman in her fifties who can’t seem to
successfully navigate the path into adulthood. I suppose before we continue we
need to ascertain some definition of adulthood. According to my mother it’s all
about maintaining a home that doesn’t look like you’ve permanently been
burgled.
Only last week when her washing machine was on the
blink, I offered to step into the breach and help her out. My offer was met by
abject horror and the rather dubious comment, “You’ve got to be joking, I’ve
seen what you do to your whites!” I don’t do anything to my whites other than
bung them into the machine with a bit of detergent but it seems that’s where
it’s all going wrong as my mother bored me almost to death with a litany of
products designed to keep your whites ‘white’.
My mother enjoys any opportunity to attack my
domestic know-how primarily because she sees it as the root cause of my
inability to bag myself a husband. Her lack of grandchildren has long been a
thorn in her side. Ironically it’s no doubt my lack of progeny that has to a
large extent facilitated my lack of maturity. Having never had to care for
anyone other than myself has meant I can do pretty much what I please when I
please, which doesn’t engender a sense of responsibility. Frankly I’ve never
even had a pet.
Surely though being a grown-up is not just about
not being a slattern. There must be non-house proud adults out there who can
assume control when things get hairy. Despite spending most of my adult life
with 30 plus children in my care at any given time, I’m definitely not the one
to look to in an emergency. There are eleven year olds more able to cope in a
crisis than me. My instinct the second there is an aberration from the norm is
to look around for the nearest adult or in the absence of one a small child
will do. To be honest I’ve found that some children are actually fifty year
olds trapped in small bodies, probably just waiting for their physical beings
to catch up with their personalities. Tragically I’m more Benjamin Button and
suffer from the opposite.
I’ve been on many residential school trips both at
home and abroad but only ever had to take a position of responsibility for one
and let’s just say never again. It was a week in London and involved, in no
particular order: hospital visits, children lost on the tube, irate parents, no
sleep, alcohol and Italian boys. By the end of the week my nerves were quite
literally shredded and I needed complete bed rest. If that’s what it’s like
being a responsible adult then I’d rather have arrested development.
How much of being a middle-aged teen is
circumstance and how much is personality? There’s no doubt in my mind that my
lack of dependents has allowed me to wallow in my own sense of misplaced youth.
My diet consists of mainly sugar and the occasional jacket potato. I can’t even
remember the last time I bothered to attempt cooking a meal. Clearly unless I
wanted to be responsible for malnourished off-spring I wouldn’t have this
luxury had I chosen to reproduce.
The personality bit must come into the mix
somewhere though as I’ve never had any desire to reproduce. I’ve always known
that I’m far too selfish to want to put anyone else’s needs above my own. I
like to spend my time reading quietly and watching Netflix, helping children
with homework or indeed having to listen to their tedious prattling would get right
on my nerves. Don’t even get me started on toddlers who evoke in me an
intolerance that would put Mussolini to shame. I am a person who should definitely
not be inflicted on others, a joy-snuffing, curmudgeon best left to my own
quirks and failings.
My only consolation is I’m not the only Peter Pan
in existence. I suppose it used to be a condition more associated with men who
couldn’t grow up because, coddled by their mothers and wives, they didn’t have
to. Gender equality however means that these days we are all free to be adult
children. In fact I know quite a few of them.
