"Grown" Kids

Hi, everybody,

What is a "grown kid" anyway? When you hear someone say, "Her kids are grown", do you get visions of a woman whose life is completely her own, one whose days are spent deciding just what to do and when to do it? A woman whose house is perpetually picked up and who eats cheesecake and wine for dinner if she feels like it? If a man or woman is single and perhaps dating a friend or relative of yours and he/she has "grown kids" ,do you think, "How nice. No complications." But isn't the term "grown kids" really an oxymoron? If you're a kid, you're not grown, right? If you're grown, then you're not a kid, right? This all brings me to today's blog. Certainly by the standards of most world cultures, I have 3 "grown kids". However, at times, they seem anything but grown. One of them still likes to sit on my lap. (I won't say which one.... Okay, okay, if you insist, it's Tim. Now if that didn't put a weird image in your head I don't know what would). One of them was here last week and left a jacket with a button that needs sewing and she stole my toothpaste when she left. (Don't you just love it when that happens? I laugh just thinking of myself searching for that elusive tube of toothpaste before work yesterday morning). One of them was out of underwear for 2 days while waiting for me to complete washing about 25 pairs of panties (okay, Tim again.) A couple of them have junked up my bathroom shower to the extent that it could double as a spa. Come on over. There are 7 bottles of shampoo, apricot sloughing stuff, 2 loofas (sp?) a foot scrubbing brush, various razors, my face wash (another thing I was searching for yesterday morn)...okay now it's week later and I'm continuing this blog. In the name of truth, I must report that Bob, in fact, stole my toothpaste and that it's really not Tim who sits on my lap and runs out of underwear..Aside: I hosted bunco here last night. I'm still recovering. Tonight I've had to clean up the kitchen by finishing off those extra pieces of Texas sheet cake, those toffee peanuts, and a few M & M pretzels. It's a tough job, but somebody has to do it, right?....Back to "grown kids". Well, I think I'm a bit guilty of this myself. I recall a time not so long ago when my brother, sister, and I were home and we all sat at the kitchen table while our mother (who was probably only 99 then) made all of us glasses of iced tea. It never occurred to us to get up and help or make our own...So, send me your thoughts on "grown kids". I'm studying the topic...

Kidding around and growing but not up,

I remain

Tizzie/Tiz/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth