Is parenting a grown-up task?

Why doesn't parenting seem like a grown-up task to me? Could there be anything more grown-up than parenting? This is a follow up to my post Friday when I was (almost) basking in the satisfaction of filing my magazine piece.

At the end of the post I commented that even though I know I'll have a bit of editing clean-up to do on my story, "it sure feels good to have accomplished a grown-up task." Maybe completing a story feels more grown up because it's "real" work that involves people that I'm not related to or personally connected with. Maybe it feels "real" because there will be a small financial token of their appreciation when it's published in May. Maybe it feels real because it's a glimpse of my former, non-parenting grown-up self.

So why doesn't parenting feel grown up to me? Maybe it's because it involves a lot of things that I did when I was living with my parents. Most of the tasks associated with parenting really don't require any knowledge that I didn't have when I was 16 years old. I did lots of laundry then, and I do lots now. I cooked then, and I cook now. I washed dishes then (It was my chore on the even days of the month and my brother's chore on the odd days), and I wash dishes now. Maybe it's because it feels like babysitting? Hmm...I watched little kids when I was a teenager, and now I'm watching my own son.

I'm sure I'm a little more organized and a little more patient than I was when I was 16. And I'm sure I'm much more satisfied with my son's accomplishments than I was with the kids I watched when I was in high school. But really, I'm just older and the person I'm watching is related to me. Those seem to be the biggest differences. Another difference: I get excited when school buses and fire engines go by. And if Riley isn't in the car hollering "BUS," then I do it in his honor.

So maybe the routine of working feels grown up (If my dad does it, and he's a grown up, then going to work makes me a grown up too). The alarm clock woke me up each morning, I headed to the gym, showered, got on the bus with all the other working slobs, arrived at the office and started plugging away. Every other week, I'd get my paycheck. But what about my mom? She raised us and surely she was a grown up too. My therapist will have to help me sort that one out.

Anyway, I'm not sure I was happier when I was on the routine train. Probably then I couldn't wait to not be working. I'm sure I dreamed of being a parent and getting to take care of my baby. Either way, I do have fond memories. Even if I hated my job (and we all do at times), it was MY job and I earned it. I earned my sources. I earned my business trips to New York City, Napa, and Fernley, Nevada. I earned my salary. I earned my raises. I earned my stock options (even if they never amounted to much). I earned my reputation. It was all mine and I'm proud of it.

So maybe that's it. Because there was really no prerequisite or interview or story pitch associated with my current job as parent, it doesn't feel like a grown up job. But it's a hugely important job that I take very seriously. Maybe it there were annual reviews, and quarterly reports, etc., it would feel like a grown-up task. But I guess in a way there are; I just look at my kid know he's thriving.