About a week ago.
I live nearby a school, and I was busy getting ready for bed when I heard the sound of firecrackers going off. My first thought was “Damned kids. If they keep that up much longer, I’m calling the cops.” :smack:
Although, on preview,
Still kidlike enough, I suppose.
I still get a little shiver of “neato!” when I step back and realize that the money I’m spending on video games or DVDs is my money. I earned it and no one can tell me what I can or can’t spend it on.
I’m 26, and I’m getting married, and I’m still a kid. I don’t want to be an adult, thanks.
36, second marriage, owned several houses, etc…,
I expect to feel like an adult sometime next century. I also expect to be dead prior to then. Growing up looks entirely over-rated. And miserable
The reality of wrinkles and mortality–and hence, the loss of my youth-- hit me like a brick.
I’m still not over it.
I’m 35 and usually in total denial. The only time it catches me is when I look at my 40 year old brother and remember when he was playing with GI Joes.
However…I have a feeling it’s going to hit me really hard tomorrow at my daughter’s Sweet Sixteen party.
Some time between 42-46, when the reality of trying to have kids (and failing) hit home.
On a serious note, I think it’s a generational thing. If you’re lucky, your first experience with real adulthood will be when you have a child and you realize you now have to look after this little person. If you’re unlucky, it’ll be when your parents die and you realize there’s nobody looking after you anymore.
Well it depends. Do you mean adult as in “not a child”? As in “financially independent”? As in “settling down, owning a home and raising a family”? Adult as in “out of touch with youth culture”? Being mature?
There’s actually several threads on the topic (one started by me). I just mention them for reference, but basically young adults (say 21-35) these days seem like their having a harder time defining themselves as “adults” and are taking a longer time to transition into adulthood (and the range for “young adults” seems to expand too). Part of it is our youth-oriented media culture which basically paints 25 to be the ideal age to aspire to. Part of it is the fact that people are finding it harder and harder to become independent after college.
Anyhow, I guess I felt like not a kid at 19 (sophomore year in college). It was the first time I was living in an appartment instead of my parents house of a supervised dorm. Basically I’ve felt like a “young adult” (defined as having no real responsibilities other than working and partying) since then.
Now that I’m 32 I still don’t feel like a real adult, compared to my friends who are married and have kids. I’m more like an NBC NY sitcom adult.
I remember the exact moment I realized I was an adult. It was almost 2 years ago, I was 22. I was just stepping out of the shower (calm down boys…) in my tiny, grubby, vermin-infested apartment that I rented all by myself with money I earned from my full time job that I got after I *graduated from * college. I almost tripped over my very own cat that I promised myself I would get when I grew up. Now I’m married, own a home with my bank’s own money, have three cats and a dog. I also laugh at farts and the word “duty.” (hehehe, dooty.) So, I guess I’m a grown up woman with a 12-year old boy inside her.
:eek: Wait–that’s not how I meant it! Mary Kay, I will not be your new best friend! Noooooo!
I’m 27, I live on my own (with a friend), and I have my first “real grown-up job.” I commute, I pay rent and student loans, I save money in the bank, I cook my own meals and buy whatever groceries I want, and I have many responsibilities. In fact, sometimes I feel crushed under the weight of my responsibilities. But I still don’t feel like an adult. I always feel incompetent, like a phony, like a kid trying to do this man’s job, and I’m terrified at all times that they’re going to figure me out and chastize me, replace me, fire me. Do adults feel more at ease? I wonder if I ever will.
I’m 26 and sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t. I think that maybe I’ll feel like an adult when I stop asking my parents for advice before making decisions. Maybe. Until then, like so many other people have said, I feel like I’m “faking it.”
Cute answer: the day I realized I was no longer fighting against the requirement that I get sleep at night, but rather fighting for more opportunities to snooze.
Not-so-cute answers: Either when the kids were born, or when we got Dweezil’s diagnosis of autism and it really hit us that we were responsible for trying to unfuck-up his life as much as possible.
And the day my mother died (Dad had passed away 9 years earlier) I said to my brother “I guess this means we’re the grownups now!”.
For me it was about 25, at which point I started making a conscious effort to:
a) pay my bills, and pay them on time
b) have matching dishes and bedding
c) have an ample supply of toilet paper, Kleenex and Q-tips
d) have people over in a planned, hostessy kind of way, instead of in a “my place is closest, let’s just go there and crash among the dust kitties until the bar opens” kind of way.
For me, it was all in the little accoutrements. My apartment itself was small and not very schmancy, but by golly, I had a cocktail shaker and pretty shower curtain, and it all made me feel wildly adult.
Now I live in a 4-bedroom, two-story house that’s as big as or bigger than the houses my high school friends and I grew up in . . .
. . . and no way am I grown-up enough to live in a house like that!
In fact, I still have it somewhere in my head that somebody else must be paying for it . . .
I’m 40. It didn’t happen all at once, but I realized I was an adult a couple of years back when I started my current job. See, the secretary has two teenagers, an (at the time) 18 year old son and 16 year old daughter. And she loves to talk about them. And I was thinking to myself, “gee what a bunch of dumb-assed teenaged shenanigans”.
It was then I realized that at some point along the line I had become an adult. Dammit.
I felt like an adult when I finally broke out of the mold my parents had set up for me, refused the marriage they had arranged for me, decided not to pursue the career they had decided for me, and moved out on my own even though they cut me off.
Who am I kidding? I never want to be an adult. I won’t have kids, who do I need to impress? I like being a kid! Luckily I’ve found an SO who is more responsible than me and lets me be a kid.
I feel the same way, particularly on the rare occasions when I wear a suit (generally only for job interviews). I feel like a little girl playing dress-up, and like I might fool a particularly naive creature from another galaxy, but nobody from this planet would see me and think I was an Actual Grown-Up.
I’m 30, married (no kids), work a Real Job, commute, buy food, cook, and all that. But I still recognize that poo and farts are funny, and my hobby is playing computer games (when I’m not too tired).
I’ll let you know when I get there–I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I’m 20 now and thus no longer a teenager.
Bah. You’re supposed to play computer games until you can no longer move your eyes because they’ve dried out, and you’re on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion.
Around 16 or so. Getting my driver’s license helped. Exasperation at having to clean up my parents’ messes on occasion is one of the bigger thing. In a few weeks I’ll be able to register to vote, and soon after I’ll be living away from my parents (with taxpayer and University dollars) and setting up my long-term life and career strategies.
^ one of the bigger things; once again curse the lack of an edit function.