Sometimes I don’t want to be an adult, either

While we were on our two-week vacation, we put our 21-year-old daughter in charge of the house and pets.  And for the record, we DID tell our 19-year-old son that she was in charge.  Not that we thought it would mean anything to him, but at least we would feel like we were going through the proper parental actions.

My daughter didn’t last even a week before she quit.

“I don’t want to be an adult, anymore,” she stated to us over the phone, via text and by email.  “It is too much work.  You have to remember to get the mail everyday, feed the pets and Boca is a bitch-cat when he is hungry and Michael won’t listen to me.”

Continuing on with her rant, she also complained about having to take out the trash, cleaning the kitchen everyday and then OMG the damn tornado sirens went off and she couldn’t get in touch with dad to find out what to do.  So she did the responsible thing and took the pets to the basement while her brother entertained friends in his upstairs bedroom.

Our initial response was to just tell her to take the credit card we left for her and go shopping. Or buy booze or something.  I think this worked for one day.  And then it was all about Michael again.

Text message at 2:36 am from Christina: Michael has his stupid friends over and they won’t be quiet and I have to work tomorrow.

I know I should have just not responded – after all I WAS on vacation and most normal folks would be sleeping at 2:30 am, but nooooo, I had to respond: I tried calling Michael and his cell phone is off.  Tell everyone to be quiet.  Or turn the TV up louder.

Of course, nothing would work other than letting Christina rant for about 40 minutes until I finally ended it by telling her that unless she wanted to call me, take her cell phone to her brother and give it to him so I could yell at him, there really wasn’t much I could do from Florida.

We ultimately solved the problem by her leaving the house and spending the last few days of our vacation with friends.  Michael was responsible for the pets and we knew they would be fine.  Boca could eat field vermin, Abbey needed to lose a few pounds anyway and Casey was just too darn cute to ignore when he was hungry and rolling on his cookie mat.

Needless to say, when we got home it was terrible.  I made a list.  There were 17 things on it.  Obviously Michael isn’t ready to be an adult, either.

Next time we are boarding the kids and taking the pets with us.

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