Being an Adult: Whatever that Means

I remember when I was younger (lots younger) and thinking that twenty-five was old. Like really old. I also had images that twenty-five meant you had your shit together. You were supposed to know stuff- like real stuff when you are twenty-five. Well here I am at the ripe age of twenty-five and while I will admit I have a long and undoubtedly very interesting and blessed life ahead of myself I can't help but think about the things I thought I was supposed to know how to do or understand at this point and realize that I may actually be farther away from figuring these things out than when I was eight. Here are some things I thought any twenty-five year old would have under control:

1. What you are doing with your life.
2. A job you love and are really good at.
3. The idea of what "comes next".
4. What you want out of everything. Everything.
5. A group of friends that provide endless entertainment.
6. A flawless relationship.
7. Love.
8. Classy bedding. Adults sleep in nice bedding. And their beds are always made. Perhaps even when they are in them.
9. A stocked fridge and pantry. And the culinary skills to just whip something up when they get home.
10. Lots of heels that you wear all the time.
11. A place for everything
12. A house with enough bedrooms for all those little tiny humans you plan on birthing any minute.
13. People who report to you. Kids, employees, husband, etc.
14. Eating breakfast. That you made. With your significant other. Reading the paper.
15. Adult clothes.
16. You magically exceed being five feet tall.
17. No crying. Except when you are really sad. Your a strong woman that people respect.
18. Coming home to your very own dog.
19. Credit cards.
20. A nice shiny new car.
21. Vacations with family, friends and significant others.
22. Christmas trees. You start having your very own real one.
23. Season tickets to the ballet or philharmonic.
24. Brunch. Every weekend.
25. Lots of skiing. Every weekend (after brunch naturally)

I will leave it at twenty-five. But the point I am getting here is that life is anything but what it seems. I have a hard time not beating myself up for not even coming close to being the "twenty-five year old" I am supposed to have turned into. While some of my ideas of what being an adult ended up being plain wrong- some of them are still things I hope I grow up into.

Right now I am a perfectly underdeveloped twenty-five year old who buys too many sponges:

Can't make her bed in the frenzy of the morning routine (and sleeps with bears):

And who survives on cereal, coffee and wine (when things get really rough):