The senior slump has apparently arrived early in our household. Around six years early. Let’s just say certain commitments take a bit more energy to fulfill, and while I strive to be patiently supportive…well, I’m a grownup and have my own Big Girl Panties moments to handle. Suck it up, buttercup.

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We’ve all got things that fall in our wheelhouse, thank the good Lord up above. Things for which Big Girl Panties are redundant. Shoot, I’d even call these my Going Commando activities. If I were one to disclose such details. Ahem.

  • Baking. After the last four months I can even add cooking to this one. I’m on top of the kitchen…even if I’m still burning myself on pans.
  • Handling special care items in the laundry.
  • Buying utensils. Or shoes. Or anything on Amazon.
  • Life in yoga pants. Or those flowing maxi skirts. Comfort is king queen.

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Sometimes life gets a wee bit harder. Stuff piles up, compounds, or morphs into an almighty mess altogether. When the going gets tough, the tough put on their Big Girl Panties.

  • Keeping up with chores. All the chores. My chores. House chores. The kids’ chores. Who emptied the dishwasher last. The eight loads of dirty towels that suddenly materialize in the hamper. How every surface in this house is covered with STUFF. (Resist the urge, BrightSide.)
  • Budgets. The struggle is real. Sticking to a budget with a shopping-happy tween in the house? The struggle is really real.
  • Decorating. Not “put out some candles” decorating. More like “color/pattern/texture combinations with accent pieces that pop” decorating. Not to mention the fact that I’ve got a snowman (or three) still sitting out.

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And then there’s DEFCON 1. Ridiculously horrid moments that make you wish you were bulletproof. Those times you wonder if anyone actually sells an invisibility cloak. But alas, “grownup” status lands these bits solidly in the Big Girl Panties arena. Shoot, sometimes they require a double undie layer. Better safe than sorry, right?

  • Grownup medical stuff like enemas, biopsies, surgeries, or cancer treatments. Being grown means handling the intellectual, psychological, and emotional elements of napalm. Being grown with kids basically means handling napalm strapped with dynamite.
  • The minefield you live in when your kid’s friend is an asshole.
  • Complex dental work.
  • Shoveling out the car in subzero weather with 20mph wind gusts.
  • Negotiations. I don’t know about you but we haven’t yet run into a silver platter prettily offering up our due. Grownups have to navigate negotiations about money, time, schedules, responsibilities…life’s pretty much one long negotiation about a hundred subsets. And mousiness is not an option. Guess it’s time to invest in some bulletproof panties.