Adulthood is not for sissies


“Where’s the unsubscribe button on adulthood?”

Don’t grow up. It’s a trap.

Recently we had three of five vehicles needing some sort of maintenance, rendering them briefly unusable. How we can have five vehicles for four people and still come up short is beyond me!

Meanwhile, Mr. Wonderful sent BoyWonder screaming into the house to tell all of us to stop what we were doing because they were going to have to shut off the water and power simultaneously. Now!

Apparently, returning from one vehicle drop off, Mr. Wonderful just happened to glance in the right direction at the exact moment to see sparks flying out of the well casing. Of course, he did.

I’m no expert on the magic of electricity but that seems like an obvious malfunction.

While rummaging in my closet for something to wear that made me look 30 pounds lighter and like I was really well put together — (this garment does not exist) — I inadvertently pulled the closet rod down on my head. Of course, I did.

Giving up

At that point, I wanted to throw in the towel but then I remembered how much laundry I still have to do. No need to add to that.

Childhood was full of trickery. Thanks in large part to Disney, I’m still waiting for that fairy tale to come true where animals clean my house. So far, all nature has proven good for is breaking in and attempting to infiltrate our cereal stash. (I’m looking at you ants and mice).

Still, I have a nice home, cute husband, amazing offspring and our pets are adorable so really, I am blessed and I know it.

Nonetheless, I would like to announce that I have no idea what I am doing.

Having it all is like sorcery. What I really want is all my family happy and healthy, lots of extra money, a size 8 waistline without any effort at all on my part, and perhaps a weekly massage?

What I don’t want is to have to think too hard or commit too much to get there.

I have always been house proud, but as I’ve gotten older I’ve come to a startling realization. Both of us cannot look good simultaneously. It’s either gonna be me — or the house.

But first, coffee

When I do have to be motivated, I’m a basic adult in that I cannot seem to function without my morning cup of coffee. By this, I mean that even in the middle of a “weather event” (read: the Midwest being Midwestern), Mr. Wonderful hiked out to the barn WITH our coffeepot in tow — so he could have my coffee ready when I awoke.

Love? Fear? You decide.

I started drinking coffee because I felt it made me seem more mature when I was an 18-year-old working with colleagues two and three times my age. Now I drink it because without it I’m like a toddler who has lost her blankie.

On that note, I have traded in my childhood obsession with stuffed animals (So. Many. Stuffed. Animals.). I have replaced them with throw pillows.

We have enough for every man, woman, child and pet to have at least a dozen throw pillows to themselves. I still want more.

I don’t recall my adult life goals being to “coordinate all the things with a nice pop of color,” but here we are.

Being an adult is like folding fitted sheets. No one really knows how.

Sometimes I amuse myself with the clever things I say and write. Other times I attempt to exit the truck with my seatbelt still buckled.

I’m at the “what can I make with a can of beets and cake mix” stage of needing groceries and cannot imagine when I’m going to want to make time to go shopping.


Getting sent to bed early, not being allowed to stay out late and taking naps? My childhood punishments are now adult life goals. The only thing getting “lit” around here are my pumpkin scented candles.

My idea of nightlife is the happiness that comes from climbing into bed with a good book and not having to set the alarm the next day.

My best days are sleeping in with the dogs in what I call “second bedtime.” It’s when you wake up, revel in the bliss of not having to get up, and go back to sleep. Later there is time for black coffee and snuggling.

On that note, I try to schedule regular “do nothing” days. Often, however, I just end up in that awkwardness of being unsure if I actually have that much free time, or did I just forget everything I was supposed to do?


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Warm, witty and just a wee bit warped, Kymberly Foster Seabolt is a native of Kent, Ohio, who survived childhood exposure to disco and grew up to marry and move to the country. Her column weaves her special brand of humor with poignant, entertaining, and honest portrayals of parenting, marriage, and real life. She currently lives in northeastern Ohio with her husband, two children, two dogs, two cats, and numerous dust bunnies who wish to remain nameless.


  1. Cute read, Miss Kym! Greeting from a real old farmer, tool & die maker, school teacher and lawyer from Portage County.

    In my youth, I had the great opportunity to be an apprentice in a large Cleveland factory. My department there was like a virtual “United Nations” of guys and gals. We had white, black, red and yellow AMERICANS there. There were Jews, Christians, Buddhists and atheists. Heritages from Germany, Sweden, Italy, Poland, Russia, Ireland, England, India…you name it. And with our collective good-will and wisdom, we formed the following commandment:


    We produced the cryogenic pumps for the Saturn V rocket motors that got us to the moon in 1969. No small feat!

    Since then, I have worried less and less about things. Fretted? Sure, but have the knowledge that most anything can be fixed. ANYTHING! Not to sweat things is a great virtue, especially running a 160 farm and off-farm profession. Ask the “better half” of our marriage for the past 52 years!



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