Information and advice are readily available today on any subject under the sun. Parenting is no different. Yet, going by the articles I’ve read on Medium — where young people write that having children is an impediment to their careers –I’d say that young people aren’t buying into the idea that parenting is a joy far more significant than any other obstacle.
Um, it’s a joy to me — how do you feel about parenting?
Not able to address the subject then, I gave a sad head-shaking, uttered, “Young people don’t know what they don’t know,” and brushed the thought of that need aside. Then it dawned on me– perhaps not enough articles have been written about parenting. And so it was that I came to write and publish a few articles about parenting on my no-niche/ ordinary website.
The problem, though, is that those articles are not reaching the eyes of those young people. After some thumb twirling, I determined to let things settle where they may. Then one day, I was researching details for flying a small airplane — for my novel, you see — and the idea of addressing that need resurfaced.
By golly, yes, I thought. I’ll ‘show’ them what parenting is like; I’ll take them through a sensual adventure– young people will like that. So today, this article is for young people– you.
Here’s the best simulation of what parenting children is like.
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In this adventure that encapsulates the abridged beauty of what parenting a child is like, there will be some learning and concentration involved. Hopefully, the thrill of the simulation of going on a solo flight will suit your soul.
No– I’m not a pilot; I’m just a mother who writes, reads, and researches. I was wowed by a recent research and came to see similarities between soloing and parenting.
My qualifications: I’m the mother of two little boys who are now in their twenties. I don’t do much mother-ing anymore, but the fact that I’m still a mother qualifies me to write and talk to you about the attractiveness of raising tiny humans, who, by the nature of things, grow up too fast– zoom, like so!
As you already know, information on ‘how to parent’ is plentiful — children are similar in their uniformity— but the fact remains that children do not come with manuals. More importantly, no two children are alike, duplicates — even among siblings. Metaphorically speaking, children take you flying by the seat of your pants.
Nevertheless, the joy of parenting is unduplicatable, better than anything I know. And I say that, even though I landed upside down on some instances, missed the runway at others, and often failed to see the beauty of the lessons unfolding before me.
I hope that by the end of this blog post, you’re able to glean insight from the experience, come to appreciate the analogy and the beauty of why parenting is a great idea. Enjoy.
***
What’s so enigmatic about children or so perplexing about becoming a parent?
Being a parent is like going on your first solo flight — repeatedly. This is the conclusion I came to after doing the research, and the more I think about it, the more I come to embrace this notion, keeping in mind — as mentioned already– that children do not come with instruction manuals.
Ideally, a child enters your world after a nine-month pregnancy, and it is then that you become a parent.
The average instruction period for flying lessons is ten-weeks. Ideally, at the end of those lessons, you’re ready to take your first solo flight.
For soloists, the anticipation of that day is similar in its uniformity but different in its meaning as undoubtedly learning to fly is an exciting experience, unduplicatable.
With all the elements of planning required in giving attention to sequence, the application of motor skills and coordination, the crucial simulations, and, let’s not forget, all the necessary confidence-building– a pilot-to-be is prepared for his/her solo.
The same ‘elements of planning’ are required of parents-to-be. The difference is that, unlike flying, the brain of a parent-to-be cannot simulate the experience until the moment the experiences start happening.
Ahem — well, couldn’t simulate until this post. *cough*
So, reader, it’s time to put you in the driver’s seat.
Begin Simulation
When you arrive at the airfield, you envisage everything you studied and worry that you might be forgetting something important. You want to check your notes, but the instructor is right there, commanding you to breathe instead. You manage a smile and a nod.
You climb inside the plane, and you breathe in deeply. Now you’re on the pilot seat. You methodically complete the checklist of the plane’s controls. That was easy, you think.
You might feel the urge to look over at the seat beside you, only to find it empty. You glance out the window on your left and see your instructor standing in the distance. You wave, but she doesn’t see you. You breathe again. The only noise in the cockpit is the purr of the engine and a voice over the intercom.
You touch your headphones, waiting for a signal from the control tower. All clear for takeoff, you may proceed, says the voice in your ears. At that moment, your breathing steadies, your brows furrow in concentration, and your feelings of anxiety leave you.
You start the engine and release the brake. Next, you open the throttle a little; you feed more gasoline to the engine. The propeller whirls faster. The plane starts moving forward. You taxi onto the runway, facing the direction of the wind. You wait.
A voice from the control tower comes through your headphones again. Permission to take off, it says.
You open the throttle wide. The plane accelerates down the runway. On your right sits a stick — a control. When pulled back, it lifts the nose of the aircraft; when pulled forward, it drops the nose. You also know that to increase speed, you need to push the stick forward—your right-hand rests on the stick.
The plane is now traveling fast. You can feel it trying to leave the ground. “This is it,” you say to yourself. Ever so gently, you pull back on the stick. You see the nose lift while the ground suddenly drops away beneath you.
You are flying!
In the ten weeks of instructions, you have been told many things. One that you need to recall for this solo– go no faster than eighty-five miles an hour.
You know the plane has a maximum speed of twice that speed, yet you stay within eighty-five miles.
You are constantly watching your airspeed indicator. You see the small clock face slowly creep up: 20, 30, 50. You know that if it drops below fifty-five miles an hour, the plane will stall.
The airspeed reaches 60 knots, and you ease back on the throttle. You cannot see the runway anymore– only sky.
You are flying!
You and the plane climb to five hundred feet– you’re on top of the world, or at least high enough to make your first turn.
I repeat: It is time to make the first turn. A turn?
Yeah, you knew that was coming. You’ve simulated turning, remember? Now get turning. A turn!
You wipe the sweat from your hand on your trousers and immediately return it to the stick.
You push it gently to the left. The wing on the left side drops, the plane makes a turn, or bank, as you’ve learned to call it. Everything is going well, but there are so many things to think about that you hardly notice the view. You breathe in slowly.
After making three more left banks, you’re on your final approach. The voice from the control tower gives you the all-clear for landing.
Landing!
Crap, you think, now you have to land this thing!
You glance over at the seat next to you; again, you find it empty—your brows furrow. You reduce the speed, the throttle opens. You can feel the plane begin dropping. Not too fast. Not too steep an angle, you remind yourself. Come in too high, and you’ll overshoot the runway; come in too low, and you’ll fall short.
Your brows are still furrowed, but your breathing is stable.
You brace yourself.
The runway comes rushing up toward you.
When the plane is inches from the ground, you close the throttle restricting power from the engine. You pull back on the stick to raise the nose. The engine power dies. The wings no longer support the plane; the plane drops.
You make a PERFECT landing! You make a perfect landing!
Nice landing, you hear over the radio. You grin.
A feeling of joy cascades over you as you ease down the runway.
You come to a complete stop.
End Simulation
Parenting is like that!
Every day–
Only, you keep that engine going for, say, nineteen years while you burn the midnight oil. *wink*
From here on, you can easily see how all the mutual learning you and your partner-parent bring into raising a child comes into play. You can see how rules need to be set and respected. You can see how beautifully the analogy enhances the similarities. Look closely; you can see all that.
A word of caution: be easy with yourself when landing doesn’t happen the way you expect.
Like me, you too might land upside down or miss the runway altogether, but please, let this be your guide: If you put your all into it, resolve to be ready to grow along with your child, I guarantee that you’ll enjoy the flight.
Parenting is a joy like no other– un-du-pli-ca-ta-ble!
Go fly your airplane with my blessings.
And one last thing: while you’re on that flight, please don’t forget to take in the view.
***
This article, first published in Medium under the title of ‘Motherhood is like Flying Solo,’ has been revised. If you could relate to this post– the flying or the parenting– won’t you kindly leave me a comment to tell me of your experience?
THANKS FOR READING
I Wish you Miracles.
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Hi Selma – sorry it took my a while to read your post. I hadn’t forgotten. I really enjoyed it. The analogy is spot on. I actually wrote about my first solo for another blog I write for a while ago. I’ll leave the link here if you want to check it out:
https://pointlessoverthinking.com/2020/10/31/first-solo/
Speaking of first solos and parenting, the first time I held my son. That feeling of exhilaration, fear and love – was not dissimilar to the feeling I had during my first solo. Wishing you well 🙏
I’m over-the-moon grateful for your visit here. Not dissimilar, huh? I know you know. Be well, AP2. You rock and you fly! I wish you miracles.