When I was a child, I believed adults knew everything.
They understood taxes, could drive anywhere without getting lost and always knew exactly what to do when someone started throwing up in the middle of the night. They owned matching towels, remembered to thaw meat before supper and carried cash in their wallets.
Adults were calm, capable and prepared.
Now I am the adult, and I would like to formally report that this was false advertising.
There was no ceremony. No certificate arrived in the mail announcing that I was officially qualified to make important decisions. Nobody handed me a manual and said, “Congratulations! You are now responsible for keeping multiple human beings alive while also remembering which day the trash runs.”
One day, I was a young person calling my mother to ask how long chicken stays good in the refrigerator. The next day, children were standing in my kitchen asking me the same question… as if I were some kind of poultry authority.
That may be the first sign that you have become a grown-up: people begin asking you questions you are absolutely not qualified to answer.
“Can I take this medicine?”
“Why is the washing machine making that sound?”
“Do we have any poster board?”
“Where are my shoes?”
I don’t know. I don’t know. Absolutely not, because it is 9 p.m. and you need it tomorrow. And I have not worn your shoes since you left them in the middle of the living room.
Still, everyone looks at Mom!!!
Apparently, becoming a mother automatically makes you the household’s doctor, therapist, chef, chauffeur, meteorologist, event coordinator, technology specialist and finder of all missing objects.
No one knows where the scissors are until Mom walks into the room and finds them lying directly in front of everyone. That is not adulthood. That is witchcraft.
Maybe you become a grown-up when you start caring deeply about the thermostat. As a child, I never once thought about the cost of cooling a house. Now I can sense an exterior door standing open from three rooms away.
“Are we air-conditioning the entire neighborhood?”
There it is. The ancient phrase spoken by generations of parents before us. Once it leaves your mouth, there is no going back. You might as well buy a label maker and start saving gift bags.
Perhaps adulthood begins when exciting purchases become painfully practical.
There was a time when I wanted new clothes, concert tickets and spontaneous adventures. Now, a vacuum with strong suction can completely change the direction of my week.
Give me a storage container with a lid that actually matches, and I am nearly unstoppable.
I have become the kind of person who receives a new appliance and makes everyone come admire it. “Look how much this drawer holds,” I say, while my children stare at me with the same mixture of concern and pity I once reserved for my own mother.
Then there is grocery shopping, perhaps the greatest evidence that none of us really knows what we are doing. I can spend an amount of money that should feed a small village, unload 47 bags and still hear, “There’s nothing to eat.”
Of course there is food. There are ingredients.
Apparently, ingredients do not count because they require effort. My children are searching for food that appears fully prepared, preferably beside them, without interrupting whatever video they are watching. And somehow, after planning meals, buying groceries and putting everything away, I still forget to thaw the meat.
Maybe adulthood is simply moving the same package of chicken from the freezer to the refrigerator three days later than intended.
For years, I assumed I would eventually feel different. I thought there would come a morning when I woke up organized, confident and certain. I would understand insurance policies, schedule dental appointments six months in advance and stop Googling whether something was normal.
That morning has not arrived.
Instead, I have learned that most grown-ups are just children with calendars. We make appointments, pay bills and sign permission slips while privately hoping a more experienced adult will enter the room and take over.
Sometimes I look around for the responsible person, only to realize everyone is looking at me…Terrifying.
But maybe being a grown-up has less to do with knowing everything and more to do with showing up anyway.
It is making supper when you are tired, listening to a long story when your mind is already carrying 14 other things and checking the doors one more time before bed.
It is saying “no” when no would be easier to avoid, apologizing when you get it wrong and trying again the next morning.
It is worrying quietly so your children can feel safe loudly.
My children probably look at me the way I once looked at the adults in my life. They may believe I have a plan and know exactly where we are going. I do not intend to correct them.
The truth is, I am often making it up as I go. Most mothers are. We survive on instinct, reheated coffee, group texts and the occasional emergency phone call to our own mothers.
Maybe that is the real secret of adulthood: no one ever feels completely ready. We simply become responsible for people we love more than we fear getting it wrong.
So, what makes someone a grown-up?
It is not age, homeownership or finally understanding your health insurance deductible. It is not matching towels, remembering the trash schedule or owning an unreasonable number of reusable shopping bags.
It is accepting that everyone expects you to know what is happening and loving them enough to keep pretending until you figure it out.
Now, if you will excuse me, I need to take something out for supper.
…Assuming I remember.
(Paige Gurgainers is a mom of three girls, digital journalist for Webster Parish Journal.)