When I was a kid, I thought grown-ups had it made. They could come and go as they like, they didn't have to eat peas and they had the answer to everything.
Well, I've been an adult for about 137 years now and I pretty much come and go as I like and I don't eat peas but I'm extremely disappointed in the actual number of things for which I don't have the answer. Many of the things I do have the answer to, I learned the hard way: don't wash new blue jeans with a load of white towels; you must go very slowly when backing in or out of a parking space; throwing money at a guy for six years does not make for a solid relationship. But I had hoped that by now I would have had my shit together more.
I have a sneaking suspicion that I'm not the only 130-something that feels the same way. And I have an even sneakier feeling that those adults I knew when I was a kid that I thought had all the answers, didn't. They just randomly pencilled in the little circles and hoped for the best. Like you do. It was just that from my 3' tall vantage point it looked like they knew what they were doing. I guess when my kids were little, they thought I had all the answers. Now they know the truth. But they love me anyway, because they are the BEST KIDS EVER IN THE HISTORY OF KIDS. But, I digress. . . . .
I am becoming increasingly more comfortable with not having all the answers, knowing I probably never will. I'm still trying to figure out Who the Hell Debbie Is and it's led me to some pretty fun and/or scary places. But I'm okay with that, too. Because if I end up someplace I don't like, I can always leave; I still don't have to eat peas and I have learned to embrace light blue towels.