Everyone is winging it

A few days ago, I read an article by a woman in her 40s about being a 40 something.  She listed a bunch of seemingly random observations about life: nuggets of wisdom, you could call it.

The one that stuck with me was: "There are no grown-ups. We suspect this when we are younger, but can confirm it only once we are the ones writing books and attending parent-teacher conferences. Everyone is winging it, some just do it more confidently."

I think about being a grown up quite often. The first time I seriously thought about it, was after my father passed. Death brings out the vulnerabilities of the survivors. Death of my father changed my relationship with the world. I no longer had someone to defend me against the dangers and perils of the outside world. I was all alone; a real grown up.

I was 29 when my father died and he was certainly not defending me against the world. I didn't need defending: I had immigrated to a different country and was living quite well, financially and emotionally independent for over 6 years. 

But the point remains. I had lost a parent and for the first time in my life I was no longer someone's child. I had to be a grown up and that made me uncomfortable. I wasn't sure I know how.

At 33, I have many friends with kids. Every day I hear about someone getting pregnant or giving birth. For obvious reasons, not the least of which is biological limitations, I think about having children of my own.

I'm not sure I am ready. You have to be a grown up to have children. 

Or do you? 

Were my parents grown ups when they had us? Did they need to think so much about having children, or was it the most natural thing in the world to them?

Maybe they were also winging it. 



PS- I'm writing again after a long time. If you visit me, leave a comment and tell me what you think.