Why it's time to stop saying we're "winging it"

This article was first published elsewhere in Sept 2023.

In keeping with last week’s aeroplane theme I’m going to spend today’s newsletter teasing out another commonly tossed around phrase in the parenting lexicon: “we’re all winging it.” It’s used so often chances are you’ve heard it, used it yourself or both - I know I have!

If you’ve read my book Mama, You’re Not Broken before (or listened to the chapter on “Uncertainty”) you might remember the story of me as a first timer with a very sensitive babe, questioning myself as I struggled along. Where was the instruction manual for this here human thing? Why did this feel so hard? In the book I write about how

“…a mother of seven threw me a life raft: ‘we’re all winging it, just some of us have been winging it long enough it looks as though we’re flying’.”

At the time I found this poetic and profound. It felt reassuring to hear that others weren’t super sure of themselves either, while reaffirming mothering as a learned skill, one that if I gave myself more time to learn, I’d eventually look (and hopefully feel) like I was flying too.

In retrospect though, I’m not so sure the “winging it” phrase is one I want to continue passing along to the next crop of mothers and parents. When I think of someone “winging” a trip, for example, I imagine a carefree traveler arriving at an airport with only a backpack (plus maybe a guitar or surfboard, if they’re that way inclined) and buying a ticket to anywhere.

The unencumbered wanderers. Photo by Austin Distel on Unsplash

A coat? Nah, grab one there if needs be.

Snacks? No packed lunchbox for this adventurer.

Maps, language books, currency? All good, no need to prepare when you can just figure it out on arrival!

But the majority of people who value intentional parenting are not operating like this. Yes, we may try for adaptability and easefulness day to day, but we know exactly where we want our kids to end up: fully formed emotionally secure grown ups, content in themselves and their bodies, with a felt knowing they are unconditionally loved and inherently worthy. From this place they will be resilient, kind, curious, creative, compassionate, driven, proudly interdependent and, with a bit of luck, happy.

We also know a consumerist society primes kids for the opposite, and such characteristics don’t arise by chance. (Hello, fellow anxious parents! Look around at our gen’s rates of mental ill health then tell me how we “turned out fine”.)

If you’re the Default Parent, take a moment of pause and inventory the hours you’ve spent reading up on conception and pregnancy, taking birth classes, getting your head around feeding advice, learning about child development, listening to podcasts, talking with others about their experience, working on your own woundings, trialling and refining new daily routines or systems to support your kid(s), researching care and school options, and the 7963 other Google searches you’ve done in the middle of the night. This is on top of the ongoing practical care and diligent study of your individual children, coming to learn their needs, preferences and communication styles by interacting with them for hours and hours every day and night. For those of us who value children, childhood and childraising, the early years (and beyond, I anticipate) of parenting and caregiving are the ultimate in immersive study experiences.

What a far cry from a spur of the moment, “wherever the wind takes me” style of unplanned backpacking journey! On the contrary, we Mothers and Default Parents are the pilots of our families. We often learn as much as we can about the plane itself and how to fly it before taking the gears for ourselves, honing our craft as we go, studying possible routes and maps, making decisions, staying aware of ever-changing weather conditions, expanding our skillset during periods of turbulence, monitoring fuel and pressure levels, responding to emergency warnings from ground control, checking in and re-orienting course with our co-pilot (if there’s one on board), and training the flight crew as to how they might best support our passengers along the journey. Yes, we might be flying a route we have never flown before, but we’re certainly not “winging it”!

I realise sometimes it does indeed feel like we have no idea what we’re doing, just “making it up as we go along”. Even we’ve been thrown a curveball and aren’t sure what to do next however, we’re not starting from scratch but pivoting, making different plans that build on our bank of previous experiences, theoretical knowledge, parenting values and philosophies and the relationships we have with our children. In the face of these new challenges we’re not completely fumbling around in the dark but getting better with practice, like we would do in any other sport, craft or vocation.

To say we’re “winging it” is unintentionally inaccurate (best case scenario) or a reflection and perpetuation of the deliberate devaluation of our expertise and efforts as mothers, parents and caregivers (worst case). It sends the message that caregivers are interchangeable in their skill sets, such that passing all babies off to undertrained and underpaid early childhood educators[1] so parents can get to work ASAP is fine, because we don’t know what we’re doing anyway. Related to this is the unspoken suggestion of mothering, parenting and caregiving as being unskilled (or even not “real”) work, thus reinforcing the notion we shouldn’t be eligible for support payments while out of the paid labour force investing our time in raising children. It may also send the message to non-Default Parents (mostly cis fathers) that a sense of cluelessness is a normal ongoing state of affairs when caregiving, and will never change regardless of how much time and effort they put in to being with their kids, which is decidedly untrue.

The idea of “winging it” as parents is one that is ready to be retired. It might seem small, but language matters in determining how our work and our children are valued. After all, we’re flying the plane here, not flying by the seat of our pants!

From me, and your kids 20 years from now, thank you for your work.

Anna x