Essay contest

Each year, Real Simple magazine has an essay contest for its readers.  Last year, the theme was "I knew I was a grown-up when..."  This year's theme is "I never thought I'd..."  The previous theme was too easy to blend in with all the others.  I'm going to have fun with this theme.  I'm planning to write the following: I never thought I'd have so many conversations regarding poo.  So many people are going to write about skydiving (which I refused to do when I had the chance), getting married (yawn), having kids (read that already).  I want to stand out.  I want to make an intern shoot Dr. Pepper out of his/her nose.

The winner last year just happened to be an English teacher from Phoenix.  So many people bitched about it.  Hey, I'm an English teacher; I didn't win.  Please, 6500 entries were submitted, and you think your trite narrative about paying taxes was going to win?  So what if she is an English teacher?  She wrote quite well.  It wasn't like she was J. K. Rowling or Danielle Steele.  Get over it.  It's like complaining that a person with a steady income won the lottery.

BTW, this is what I wrote.  I know it's on the maudlin side, but, in my defense, I'm really, really out of practice.  Plus, I understand why I didn't win.  I wrote one third of the recommended length.  Oops.  And, I referred to the prompt not once, but twice.  Double oops.



I first realized I was a grown-up a couple years ago, and it wasn’t because of my first job, first tax return, having my heart broken, graduating from college, getting married, changing careers, graduating again, or even giving birth. The notion hit me on a warm summer night when my eldest son was five months old.


You see, although I am deep into my thirties, I have always had a safety net. A safety net is the person who allows you to walk the metaphorical high wire without the fear of going splat: you are free to take risks without peril. I had a job in high school, but I didn’t need to have a job because I lived in my parents’ house. I did live in the dorm in college, but my folks were paying for tuition, room and board. Even my senior year, when I lived in an apartment with a roommate, savings bonds paid the rent. I was a boomeranger—moving back into my parents’ house after graduation until I married two years later. I was able to take the leap and change career paths, since my husband had a steady job that paid for the household expenses. I have never been spoiled, yet I’ve never had to be fully self-sufficient. And, although many of my actions were mature for my age (paying taxes in February, rotating tires regularly), they never made me feel like a grown-up, for they were second nature.

In the summer after my first son was born, my husband Tim and I packed up our little guy Drake and went to the drive-in. I don’t recall which movie we saw; we were just thankful to be out of the house and seeing a first-run movie. I knew Drake would nurse himself to sleep in the car. If he didn’t, we were prepared to drive home. Luckily, he slept and we enjoyed the movie. I was able to secure him in the car seat without disturbing him for the ride home.

When we reached the house, I gingerly extracted him from the seat, and, ever so slowly, made the journey into the house to place Drake in his crib. While in transit, I had a recollection of my childhood. I had the tendency to fall asleep in strange places, and yet, I magically awoke in my bed. My father always managed to carry me to my bed and never once woke me in the process. Carrying a sleeping child is a simple act, but it is one that embodies all the love, tenderness, and devotion a parent has for a child. And now, I wasn’t the child in the scenario; I was the parent. Holy crap! I’m the parent now. Me! All that fear of walking the high wire I never had for myself now engulfed me. I felt every ounce of it for this tiny, innocent person resting soundly in my arms, all the anxiety, all the uncertainty, all the unknown. He would be relying on me to care for him, to help him when he stumbled, to teach him to leave the nest. He will be looking to me for guidance, for support (emotionally and financially), for understanding. He will now be the one walking that high wire without fear because I am his safety net. That is when I realized I was a grown-up.