Christina Cox: Generation Gap

Last week I went home to Oklahoma to visit my family, and meet my new niece Lilly. You should know that Lilly is the first grandchild on either side of my family. She is the first baby since my youngest sister Sarah, who just turned 21.

In the days leading up to my trip, I kept wondering how I would react when I finally got to see the real, live, breathing and vomiting little baby Lilly. I wondered if I would cry. Or maybe begin to crave a baby of my own. Neither of those things happened. Rather, the first words out of my mouth were, “Holy s%!# Carrie, you’re a mom!”

My little sister is a mom.

My dad is a grandpa.

Seriously?

Most of the time, it feels completely normal that this has all happened. Carrie is 24, she and Steve got married last year. My dad is in his fifties, has glasses and grey hair like all the other grandpas. It all fits. I’m in my late 20’s. Of course my sisters are getting married and starting families. 'Tis the season, if you will.

But here’s the thing: none of this looks like I pictured it. In my mind, the adults in my childhood were “older.” Not in a biological sense, but in a “because I said so and I’m in charge” kind of way. I remember my idea of my parents, my aunts and uncles, in their then-fabulous-now-ridiculous 80’s glasses, driving their sweet maroon-striped mini-vans. They had it all figured out. I couldn’t wait to be an adult. I would be able to do whatever I wanted, receive mail addressed to me every day, and know how to make Strawberry Shortcake themed with pink frosting birthday cakes. I was always in such a rush to grow up.

And now I’m here, clicking back through my digital library of the photos I’ve collected of my brand new niece. These photos are the beginning of the next generation’s childhood memories. And THAT is the part that gets really heavy. I just don’t feel like the “adult” that I thought I would be, that I saw in my parents and aunts and uncles through my 6-year-old eyes. I am still that 6-year-old.

I feel like we (as in me, my husband, my sisters, my friends) are still fumbling along in our lives. Sure, we are getting married, building careers, having children. But we are taking one step at a time, groping through the dark without a flashlight. It scares me a bit that we’re the ones now “in charge.” If our parents in fact had a how-to manual, as it appeared back in the day, it got lost in the move. We are making it up as we go.

We are not the ever-perfect supermen that I saw my parents to be. Sure, there comes a time when every child begins to see their parents as real people with real imperfections. But in your early years, didn’t you think, didn’t you trust?! that your parental figures had this amazing grand plan for your day, your week, your life? They knew everything, could fix anything, and were the ultimate decision-makers of your universe. The reality (that I didn’t get until now) is, they were living the same 20-something life as I am, as my sister is, that is unpredictable, messy, and complicated. It’s not perfect. We hang on by our fingernails and make the best decisions we can. And apparently, put on a great front as the ultimate decision-makers of the next generation’s universe.

I guess my point is this: things aren’t always how you think they will be. The picture in your mind is just that, a romanticized expectation.