• laurapacker
      • hello Laura Packer
      • Username: laurapacker
      • In response to: "What was the comfort food you enjoyed most growing up?" In 1st grade we named our favorite dinner. Not knowing any better, I said mine was liver and spinach. While I now have more sophisticated taste, I sometimes experience the same, stunned silence.
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    • When did I become the grownup?

      • I wonder if I'm handling my 40s well. I always imagined that by the time I hit 40 I'd be married (nope) with kids (none that I can see, unless you count various adults in my life), a homeowner (renting and currently relieved to do so) and with a career (wait, how did I miss that one?). Here I am, living in sin with my sweetie, parenting any number of people though none are biological, in the same financial mess as most of my peers (retirement? wait, let me stop laughing) and still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. I'm not the grown up.

        Except sometimes I am.

        For example, a couple of weeks ago I was at an event where an older friend took ill. Only a few of us were around when this happened, but I found myself in the position of making the decisions. Should we call the EMTs? Should we send our friend to the hospital, even though they didn't want to go? What do we do next? I was the youngest person in the room, but I was the one calling the shots. Maybe it's because I'm bossy. Maybe it's because someone needed to be decisive and the others were having more difficulty putting their emotions aside, while I could. I don't know why, but I do know that I was the decisive one because someone needed to be.

        Afterwards I found myself thinking, "When did I become the grownup?" I asked my sweetie and he told me that I'd been the grownup for years, the one people could rely on, the one who remained calm. Hell. Does being the grownup mean I have to be boring now?

        I hope not. There are good things about being a grownup. I can get a new tattoo if I want. I can eat what I want when I want. It's easier to not care about what other people think. I can make my own decisions. I can choose what part of adulthood I want to embrace.

        When I was a kid I marveled at how grownups seemed so self-assured and knew the right thing to do all the time. As I grow older, each birthday I wonder, "Is now when I start feeling like a grownup?" I suspect I'll ask that question until I die and, depending on if there's an afterlife, may continue to ask. I think part of the secret of being a grownup is that you learn to fake confidence more effectively. You've learned that it's better to move forward than to stay in stunned indecision.

        Some days I'm fine with my 40s, thinking that I'm just not living a conventional life. Other days I grieve. But I do know that I'm trying my best and trying to treat those I meet with compassion and dignity along the way. What else can I do? We make the best decisions we can in any given moment.

        My friend was fine, by the way. I'm glad I was able to be the grown up for him and maybe that's enough of a reason to be a grownup from time to time.

        (c) 2009 Laura S. Packer

      • answered by laurapacker on 03/28/2009
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    • Mistaken gifts

      • The gifts given by those who are obligated to love us, even when they don't know us, are almost always the worst.

        I was once in a relationship with a very nice man who had a very nice family. His extended family really cared about me and did their best but, boy, there were some challenging moments.

        At Christmas there were usually moments like this.

        I'd open a beautifully wrapped small box and find a brooch (or bracelet or necklace) inside. All well and good, you might think, but the brooch (or bracelet or necklace) was invariably well beyond the boundaries of good taste. Covered in rhinestones (and not in any kind of ironic way), festooned with cats with faux emerald eyes, dangling little metal dice, something... it was always absolutely hideous.

        The relative in question would look at me, beaming, wearing her own version of the same jewelry and would ask, "Do you like it? I loved it so much I just had to get one for you!"

        And I would remind myself not to look at the very nice man I was dating, knowing I would burst out laughing if I did, and tell the relative that it was lovely, thoughtful, considerate. Two out of three isn't bad.

        The worst gift, however, came in our second Christmas together. One of the loving relatives was very excited, she said she'd found the perfect gift, ideal for a young lady, something she knew I would love. I opened the package with great trepidation and had to take a deep breath, tears coming to my eyes as I struggled not to laugh at the perfume bottle nestled in satin.

        I know this family loved me. And I know she just didn't put two and two together when she gave me, her nephew's girlfriend, this particular perfume.

        It was called "Tramp."

        (c) 2009 Laura Packer

      • answered by laurapacker on 03/25/2009
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