Adult onset diabetes.
I’ve posted this before, but it bears repeating.
I’ve been saying this for about 20 years (my oldest just turned 21 :eek: ), but I truly believe that no matter how “grown up” you are, you don’t truly become an adult until you have children and they force it upon you, kicking and screaming (the parents, not the children, although come to think of it, they did a bunch of that sort of thing too).
OTOH, the first time I realized I was grown up was when I was 18, serving in the Navy, stationed thousands of miles from home on a nuclear weapon equipped Destroyer, defending our nation’s freedoms, … and I was a month older than the Playboy centerfold. My immediate thought (besides “damn, she’s hot”) was “Wow, here I am, only 18 and already a bachelor.”
But it was more than 8 years later, somewhere between the dirty diapers, driving to the doctor’s office while a sick child puked in my lap, reading bedtime stories, and that adorable little face turned up at me with arms outstretched demanding “Hold you ME!” that I realized I’d made the transition from grown-up to adult. Being grown up means taking responsibility for yourself and your actions. Adult means taking responsibility for someone else’s well-being and tailoring your own actions to their needs. Sadly, there are some parents that never make the leap.
When I decided to make decisions I knew only I could stand behind. …like not going to funerals of family memebrs I never really met and/or cared for.
Or having to pay down debt on a dumb purchase.
Just being in a parent role makes you feel like an adult, but not right away. It takes a few parent-teacher conferences for it to sink in.
Also the knowledge that your body doesn’t absorb everything you think it does. You’ll pay.
Bullshit.
And " :rolleyes: " for good measure.
Have you walked a mile in the shoes of a parent yet? I’ve found resevoirs of perserverance I never knew I had as a parent.
Believe me, I’m not trying to make it sound glamourous, like a club, or look down on anyone that doesn’t have kids…that’s not it. (I’m secretly jealous)
To have a kid pukeing out one end, and shitting out the other, then being unable to give him more than a tablespoon of water every five minutes for four hours (or else he throws up and just gets more dehydrated)…and to be doing this because you just returned from the ecu because the FIRST kid needed IV fluids to keep from dying from the same thing.
Well, that’s a helluva lotta responsibility you can’t walk away from. But the :rolleyes:? Is that really necessary?
I should have known better than to reply to Rhubarb. People who think that having kids makes them better than the childless will always get defensive when that perception is challenged. Oh well, too late to turn back now…
So you love your kid, you’ve taken responsibility for your kid’s well-being, and you have reservoirs of perserverance. Bravo. Now tell me: how, exactly, does that make you more of an adult than I am? Have you walked a mile in my shoes yet? How can you possibly agree with such a broad generalization?
Absolutely: Rhubarb himself said that “Sadly, there are some parents that never make the leap.” Which completely contradicts everything he said about never truly being an adult until you’re a parent. So it was several insulting absolutes followed by a wishy-washy “well, but not always.” If not " :rolleyes: ," then what?
…my mother died. A lot of things changed for me then. My last tie to the “old ways” was gone, and I had better start making some “new ways” for myself. I did, and here I am, better for it.
The thread is not about the haves and have-nots. It’s about when you felt a change.
Perhaps it’s just the timing on my life, but the crap sandwich of responsibility is spread with parenthood as a condiment. In my case. Never said it made me better than anybody, and there are many many examples of Rhubarb’s statement, so I fail to see the disconnect there.
I didn’t ask for who’s was bigger, badder, or worse. The first judgemental post was yours.
Unintentionally Blank, are you and I reading the same thread? 
Somewhere between the time my dad sought my advice about his “trouble in the sack” and the time my oldest (then 17, now 21) called me an asshole. Sadly, after this one-two punch, no vestiges of childhood remain.
I forgot to add, everyone I know who has children agrees with me. All of my friends without children don’t, and respond pretty much how you did … until they have children 
.
Of course, biologically speaking, you are correct. Adult is merely the life stage which follows Juvenile. But neither I nor the OP were speaking strictly of biology.
An example;
My SIL and her husband learned many years ago that they cannot have children without extraordinary means, which they decided not to pursue. They are both very level-headed, hard working, responsible and mature individuals. I like and respect them both. However, when they were spending many thousands of dollars having a new garage built to house their boat and later travel trailer, I was paying for one daughter’s braces, and another’s singing lessons. While they were investing in mutual funds and building up a nest egg for their retirement, I was trying to afford the additional insurance bill from having two teenaged drivers in the household. While they were moving to their dream home on 20 acres in northwest Arkansas, I was co-signing a student loan for a staggering amount of money because my daughter had earned a scholarship to cover the other half of her tuition. I don’t envy them (much) for what they have done with their lives. They worked very hard for all that they have and they deserve it. But because they don’t have children, they had different priorities and made different decisions.
I don’t feel I’m better than them for my experiences, nor do I think ill of any who remain childless by choice or not. All I’m saying is that Adulthood is different than Grown-up, not necessarily better.
And on preview, it is very easy to have children without becoming an adult. Just ask any of the way too many deadbeat dads (and moms) or 15 yo crack whores. All squares are rectangles, not all rectangles are squares. And while I feel in no way superior to people without children, I DO feel superior to people who have children and neglect or abuse them. Parents who spend the rent check on drugs and booze and treat their kids like some form of punishment are not adults. Many of them aren’t even human.
The problem, Rhubarb, is the way you said what you said. Other people picked “having children” without making it sound like they thought all other answers were invalid, or that people who choose not to have kids never really know adulthood. You do get that, right?
Stepping away from that potential quagmire, I’ve had a few of these moments. I’m 23, so I guess that’s to be expected. There were a couple in the chain of events leading to my move back to New York - being really broke with no income, owing hundreds of dollars to my roommate, at one point asking my ex-girlfriend if I could borrow that money from her (fortunately, I didn’t need to), taking a job I didn’t want for a few months, and ultimately coming back here because, as dead-set against it as I’d been, it was the mature thing to do. The way I had to deal with losing my dog three months ago would qualify, too, since it felt adult and certainly in my mind, nothing has been the same.
I’m 38, married, no children, and I feel like I am truly an adult. Possible causes:
[list=0]
[li]I’ve lost my taste for fast food, soda pop, and television (no moral high ground here; I’ve gained tastes for pub food, wine, and websurfing).[/li][li]I have an advanced degree.[/li][li]I have a job and recently negotiated a raise.[/li][li]I bought my first new car last week.[/li][li]My parents are becoming old and frail.[/li][/list]
I’m still not sure I’m an adult, but I knew I wasn’t a kid any more when I realized I needed more than one hand to count all of the people I’ve known who’ve died.
The exact moment I started to feel like an adult was shortly after sending out a condolence card, when the widow called to thank me. She was so touched by the card that she’d framed it and hung it up in the living room.
Discovering that such a small gesture could have such powerful meaning to someone… it was pretty heavy. It sort of clicked it home in my mind that I couldn’t hide behind the innocent veneer of childhood inexperience any longer, and that every word and action could directly influence someone in an unforeseen and significant way.
And I know more than one parent who doesn’t agree with you (I asked a few people last night/this morning, in light of this very thread). Your personal experience – which includes your social circle – does not a universal truth make.
And neither was I, in my first post to this thread.
My reply of “bullshit” had nothing to do with biology, and everything to do with your implication that, say, a 19-year-old parent is truly an adult while, say, a 69-year-old war veteran who never had children is not.
You’re contradicting yourself, as you did in your first post. How is it that one is never truly an adult until becoming a parent, while at the same time you admit that many parents are not adults?
When I got my first bill that I had to pay. :eek:
The moment I first felt like an adult…
It’s not the minute I started worrying about rent money or the day I got into university. Nope, this moment is going to make you all snicker and snerk at me, but it’s the truth.
Back in 1999 or so (about a year before, anyways), I was eating lunch in one of the classrooms, reading a book and sort of sitting on the edge of a group of chattering girls, when I heard–out of the corner of my ear, so to speak–that the world was going to end on May 5, next year.
I didn’t know that it was based on Nostradamus’s prophecy. I didn’t know then that it was a truckload of hot, steaming HS, and that I’d look back on that day and laugh at myself, and that I’d have to face much worse–and much more real–fears to come.
All I knew was a very cold, sick feeling as I put down my book and raced for the bathroom, and sat there in the stalls shivering. I kept thinking, as I rocked back and forth, about my family, my books, my writing, my friends, and I think it was that moment–when you take your whole life in review, beginning to end, and start looking beyond it–that I really felt like… well, like an adult.
I bought my first house at 20. Ten years (or so) later, Brainiac4 and I built the house we are in now. When we moved in, we bought MATCHING FURNITURE and I knew I was a grown up.
(The kids didn’t make a dent in it, they came later. The matching furniture was the defining moment of adulthood. I feel “different” being a mom, but really no more “adult.” And no need to be more “responsible” - I was there already. So here is one person with kids who doesn’t agree.)
How bout we rephrase it thusly (as I hadn’t intended to turn this into a lecture on law or logical thinking):
Whatever it takes to make someone an adult, The act of responsibly raising a child contains it in an extremely concentrated amount.
Well, I was going to say “cleaning out the little catcher thingy in the sink,” but that seems to be too frivolous for this thread. So I got nothin’. 