To Be or Not to Be

Every once in a while, even though I am a certified adult and by default should be doing this, I find myself doing “grown-up” things.  You know, those kinds of activities that you see your parents (or other ‘old’ people) doing but not really ever you.  It could be buying that one special car you have lusted after for many, many years and finally, without hesitation, walk into the showroom and decisively buy that upscale SUV (with DVD movie player) that is just a stretch out of your financial reach.  In your mind you have come to the point in your life that the word ‘deserve’ is a frequent visitor in your vocabulary and justification that you should enjoy things now when you can is easily validated in your mind.  The thrill of those payments would fall into the “I am now a grown-up with responsibility” category.

Another example of a very grown-up thing would be to have a secretive, romantic rendezvous with your sweetums.  The spontaneous kind, where every plan falls into place: a friend to watch the kids overnight, perfect weather (and that could mean a torrential storm), chilled libation of choice and an outfit that makes you look svelte.  The adoring look on your cupcake’s face as you whisk him off to an undisclosed location (trust me, this could be the den – which takes on an unbelievable guise when you are the only two at home) is a mature, knowing gaze.  These are adult moments with no guilt, nothing held back, a true unadulterated “grown-up” experience.  A test run of sorts when you realize what it might be like when the kids are off on their own and you two are held to your own design.

Edging out the competition for the true epitome of the all-knowing “grown-up” pursuit would have to be the “parent/teacher conference”.  As you enter the forbidden zone (per your child, who typically fears total humiliation of his peers if you crack one of your corny jokes and beseeches you not to go through the hallowed doors on a typical school day) of the classroom, you find your place on a dwarfed chair.  The teacher authoritatively saunters over, settles herself in a matching chair, leans forward with body language requesting attention and begins the monologue on this small being who is your responsibility, your love, your life.  Hearing from the other person who spends 6 hours a day with your child and sees them in a different light is astounding.  The examination of your offspring’s strengths and weaknesses, academically or socially speaking, awakens the part of you that could have drifted asleep inside you years before.  You see yourself in your child and wonder if through your guidance of him through his challenges; cheering on the successes; agonizing with him on the defeats; living and breathing the real-life scenarios; will give him or her the building blocks for a happy life.

Knowing that I have a vested interest in another human being and a hand in their outcome has a way of producing another facet of being “grown-up” (not necessarily being mature – two different things entirely) and that, I must admit, is a pleasant addition to the repertoire.  As I boldly venture where I have never ventured before, I think I am in good company with all the rest who are in the same place struggling to be a “grown-up”.

Cynthia A. McClelland, curious observer of the obvious with interpretations of the oddities of daily life. Mother, wife and lover of the furry, resides in the north Lake Tahoe area.

Cynthia A. McClelland © 2003-