(un)domesticated goddess-ish is about the life of a 20 something single city girl turned *gulp* mountain step-mom.
Listen guys, I'm gonna give it to you straight: I lived the sweet life as a kid. Some might call it Only Child Syndrome. I probably wouldn’t disagree.
I had a king size bed by the time I was 10, cleaned the litter box twice a week at MOST, and sat wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted.
But my utopian childhood couldn’t last forever — I'd be a fool to think otherwise. I was relegated to a twin bed *shudders* in college. I don't have a cat, so while there’s no litter box duty, scraping salmon skin off a baking sheet a few nights a week is infinitely worse. But the biggest surprise? I've lost all authority over where I sit.
You see, as a wee tot, no one told me where to park my butt. I had free reign over the couch (and a shameless addiction to American Idol to boot). And I was definitely never reprimanded for taking the dinner seat that put me closest to the dessert. Save for formal family events when I could count on being assigned a seat between two people where the conversation inevitably lingered somewhere between "Are you dating yet?" and "OJ must've killed her, right?", I sat wherever I damn well pleased.
So after 28 years of choosing where my cheeks touch down, am I really expected to relinquish all power to two small humans?
Absolutely. What, you think as the mature adult in this situation I can override their predetermined seating arrangement? You try saying no to two tweens. Let me paint a few seating scenarios for you:
What they say: *Points and waves* Sarah, can you sit over here?
What they mean: Oh you like the end spot on the couch? Sorry, we've got you down for middle-left.
OUT TO DINNER
What they say: Wait, actually...can we switch?
What they mean: We want to sit between you guys. End seat you go!
RIDING THE CHAIRLIFT
What they say: No wait, I need to be there!
What they mean: Everyone knows the middle is the warmest. So if anyone's gonna sit there, it's me.
Pick your battles, I suppose. I do think it’s flattering that they want to sit next to me. Besides, I save my negotiation skills for far more important battles. Like bed time. Or dessert.
On the bright side, at least I’ve graduated from a twin to a queen size bed.