You know how everything in life comes with an entry barrier? You want to get into school? “Sorry, buddy, you’re not tall enough to see over the desk yet.” You want to drive? “Come back when you’re 18 and can maybe tell the brake from the accelerator.” You want to vote? “Come back when you can at least pretend to care about politics.” You want to buy a car? “Sure—show me the money.”
Basically, any mildly important milestone requires proof that you are prepared, mature, or solvent enough to handle it.
Except, of course, the biggest life decision of them all: having kids.
Oh, you just turned 23, you found someone you don’t mind sitting silently with for the next 50 years? Congrats. You are now qualified to raise an entire human being. No license required, no training manual, not even an entrance exam to check if you can make instant Maggi without burning it.
Funny how we’ve decided that to buy a hatchback you must prove financial stability, but to create an entire new person, you just… do it.
People become parents because “that’s what everyone does.” It’s like the world’s most blindly copied syllabus. Everyone’s peeking into everyone else’s exam paper, having no clue what question was even asked in the first place. And once the baby shows up, you realize: Ah, this was the question. And you still don’t know the answer.
It’s the ultimate group project, except nobody did the reading and everyone’s winging it.
Look, parenting is massive. It will rewire your brain, melt your patience, and test your sleep threshold in ways you can’t imagine. Sure, it also fills your heart with a warm gooey love you never knew existed—but let’s be honest, it’s still the hardest unpaid internship you’ll ever sign up for.
Yet there’s no checklist to tick before you start. No screening that asks:
- Are you mentally prepared to teach another human how to not lick electric sockets?
- Are you financially prepared for school fees that could buy you a small flat?
- Are you emotionally stable enough to not project all your unresolved issues onto a three-year-old?
Nope. You just do it.
And the cherry on this messy sundae? You get to deal with society’s homemade syllabus of what your child should be:
- Top scorer.
- Sports star.
- Obedient robot.
- Forever grateful for the second-hand tablet you bought them.
You end up raising a child who is supposed to fulfill everyone’s expectations but their own. The whole time, you’re comparing notes with other parents—because heaven forbid your kid should be the only one who eats crayons past age four.
But here’s the plot twist: It’s not a competition.
No matter how much it feels like it, you’re not here to out-parent the neighbor. Your kid is not a shiny trophy in your personal achievement cabinet. Their happiness is not your scoreboard.
One day you’ll look back and realize this whole journey wasn’t about being right. It wasn’t about being the perfect parent. It wasn’t about meeting anyone else’s expectations. It was about growing, together.
Nobody knows what they’re doing. Not me, not you, not that “parenting expert” on YouTube with the suspiciously clean living room. We’re all clueless, stumbling forward, hoping we don’t mess up too badly.
So if you already took the plunge and joined the parenting circus—keep going. Because what brought you this far will get you through the rest. You don’t need a license to love. And in the end, that’s the only real qualification that ever mattered.
0
20