I would just like to formally question the vetting process for adulthood!

At what point did society collectively agree, “Yes, she seems stable. Give Heather a fully developed frontal lobe, a checking account, and authority”?

Because I am, without exaggeration, the most unserious 40-year-old in circulation!

On paper, I am thriving. I pay bills on time. I keep a calendar. I use phrases like “logistically” and “that’s not sustainable long-term.”

In practice, I am one minor inconvenience away from googling “can I run away and be mysterious, or is that frowned upon after 35?”

And then there’s my 17-year-old daughter—my personal co-author in chaos. Our text thread reads less like a parent-child dynamic and more like two coworkers who absolutely should not be left unsupervised.

The level of openness? Concerning.

The humor? Ruthless.

The mutual roasting? Olympic-level.

Meanwhile, I also have a 15-year-old daughter who scares me quite honestly. (She is like the emo preteen version of me) and a 13-year-old son (thats self explanatory…he is a mini Matt) …which means I just realized I accidentally split my entire personality into three separate humans at three completely different phases of my life!

One of them has my sarcasm in its purest, most weaponized form.

One of them has my attitude but with better comebacks and fewer consequences.

And one of them is the exact chaos I tried to outgrow…now living in my house, eating my snacks, and calling me out with unsettling accuracy!

It’s like living with three versions of myself: past me, slightly improved me, and “who let this happen” me.

When I was 17, communicating with my parents required an emotional risk assessment, strategic timing, and occasionally a written proposal.

And even then, the answer was still probably NO!

Also, there was one phone. Singular. Mounted to the wall like a monument to accountability. With a cord that stretched just far enough to give you false hope of privacy while your entire family listened like it was a live broadcast. No cell phones!

Dudes ALSO, If I had spoken to my mother the way my children speak to me, I would not have been grounded—I would have simply ceased to exist.

And yet, here I am. Raising three humans. Offering guidance. Modeling behavior.

While simultaneously texting, “If we all fake our deaths, do you think we could start over somewhere coastal, or is that too much paperwork? WE WOULD GET CAUGHT HUH? Prolly be Jaxins fault he would forget his new name!”

Adulthood, as it turns out, is less about having your life together and more about maintaining the illusion of coherence while eating snacks over the sink in your underwear at 3:47am and hoping no one asks any follow-up questions.

I genuinely thought there would be more oversight. A panel, maybe. A quarterly review.

Instead, it’s just me.

In charge.

With Wi-Fi.

And three walking, talking fragments of my own personality keeping me humble on a daily basis!

Anyway, I have to go be a responsible adult now. F*CKING LAUNDRY!!!!!!!!!! AND DISHES!!!!!!—JUST….right after I send my kids a picture of me flipping them off and demanding respect in the same sentence. I know…. Im a confusing being….just let it be man! This is all new to me….I never imagined what my life would look like beyond 30 honestly!!! Unexplored territory for me, if you know me this is gonna get weird!