When Does Childhood Expire?
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Yesterday, I waxed poetic about literal and metaphorical bologna. In so doing, I assured you (and myself) that the lone package of lunch meat in our big and empty fridge was still good. Not good as in gastronomically delectable. No. Good as in it had not yet expired. Leave it to me to take this little mundane fact and run with it. The tiny black numbers indicating the freshness of my floppy meat got me thinking about something much bigger. (Shocker.)
Expiration dates.
It occurs to me that everything has an expiration date. Nothing lasts forever. No, I am not just talking about the edible items in our refrigerators. I am talking about everything. Nothing is immortal.
Calm down. I am not going to remind you of your lingering mortality. (Ooops. Just did.) My tiny agenda here is to talk about something else.
Childhood.
When does childhood expire? Is it a fixed date, an objective developmental milestone we all reach at the same chronological point like turning eighteen or twenty-one? Do we become adults when we leave home or get married or have a baby or lose a parent? Does childhood expire at different points for each of us depending on the idiosyncratic trajectories of our individual lives?
Here’s my theory: Childhood expires over and over. In fits and starts. Or a bit more gradually. Personally, my childhood expired when I moved my things into a New Haven dorm room on a September day in 1996. And then when I had my first apartment. And when I said “Yes” and then “I Do.” And then when I signed a birth certificate. And then when my Dad got sick. And left us. In each and every one of these moments, I said to myself: Whoa. I am not a kid anymore.
And then there are the much smaller moments. Like, say, being flanked by two tiny girls who giggle and shred bologna it into tiny pieces of confetti which they then rain down on their Mommy. In these moments, even when I get silly (oh and I do), even when I join that chorus of giggles (oh and I do), I say to myself: These creatures are mine. I am responsible for their lives. I am not a kid anymore.
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When do you think childhood expires? Was there a particular day (or days) in your life where you were forced to grow up, when you realized with clarity that you weren’t a kid anymore? Do you think childhood expires at different points for each of us? Are there never clear demarcations between youth and maturity? Do you think this is a matter of subjectivity, that we are as young as we feel or is there an objective aspect to all this?
The first time I really felt like *I* was the adult was when I hosted my first holiday dinner. *I* was in charge. *I* had to make the gravy. No bustling into the kitchen with a drink in my hand saying, “Can I do anything to help?” No grandmothers hovering (they had recently died) to show me what to do. I remember it being a scary moment. And then add kids to the mix? Bringing my first baby home and wondering who in the world thought I could do this? Crazy! But I like what you said about not really having an expiration date – because ultimately I hope I’m still in childhood in many ways. My kids help with that. But I don’t ever want to lose the child-like wonder and innocence – not completely, anyway.
I like your theory. And I too can point to similar moments in my own life when lingering vestiges of childhood fell away.
But for me this raises a different question; one of a bigger evolutionary nature. A couple of generations ago it seems that adulthood started at an earlier age. After high school men got jobs, women had babies, and collectively people reached the same threshold of adulthood by age 23 that I will reach around age 33. Today the process is slowed by many more intermediate steps – we graduate high school, go to college, start our careers, get married, go back to graduate school, buy a house, and then have a child.
So while it’s obvious that the speed of the progression has changed, I wonder about the psychological and developmental aspects of this evolution. Are today’s 25-year-olds less mature than our grandparents were at 25? Or do these rites of passage mature us into adulthood regardless of our age upon their arrival. (Perhaps more aptly put, do adulthood and maturity travel in lockstep?) And finally, is one path better than the other?
I don’t know, but I do find the whole issue curious. Apologies for the lengthy comment. This just happens to be something that I’ve pondered over many times.
I could say mine expired way too soon. I was still a child when that happened and was forced to grow up due to circumstances in my home…
At an almost 45, I can also promise that we get a second childhood later on. A chance to be carefree and act as silly and uncompromised as we want. And honestly – I’m enjoying this part of the journey.
I’m in the yard making snow angels, laughing as loud as I want out in public not caring who hears, eating donuts for breakfast…
When Skye was little that child inside me was still very much alive – she awakened that part of me. I let myself enjoy her innocence and crawled on the floor right along with her. So my answer is childhood doesn’t ever have to end. I think we need to keep a part of that child alive within us. (Hugs)Indigo
Somewhere in the archives I wrote a post about this. The boys and I talked about this on New Years day. We’re all 40 or a tad over, but none of us feel as “old” as we supposedly are.
Twenty years ago the stories were so very different than they are now. Instead of anecdotes about kids, careers, homes and investments we were talking about whether we caught the girl we were chasing. We talked about concerts and whether we really wanted a JD or an MBA. There were summer trips to plan and spur of the moment jaunts to Vegas.
The conclusion that I came to is that childhood hadn’t really ended, it had just changed. I never forget about my children and my responsibilities, but I still have my toys.
There are still moments that I secure for me to “play” with the boys. Life is too hard to give all of that up. The biggest difference now is that sometimes I push play time aside for far longer than I ever did as a kid.
Isn’t childhood another way of saying “inexperienced”? And if so, we never fully become adults. Sure we might grow competent and know what to do in some situations but there will be always be times when we will feel powerless, people will make us feel insecure, and really we will feel like children. I don’t think this ever changes.
That’s tough one- I didn’t have a childhood in any real sense. I’ve had the joy of being able to build playful memories as an adult, chosen to learn all about cartoons (again, as an adult), and looked around this wide, wide world with a lot of wonder.
So, in a sense, though my official childhood expired before I could even get to know it; it lives on and on in each new day and each new experience.
expires, reactivates, expires, reactivates…
anyone pondering “the freshness of my floppy meat ” qualifies for another punch in their childhood card.
There was even a man that said “unless you become like one of these children you won’t get in the kingdom” …
Personally I think it has to do with recognizing/accepting our own incompetence, but I don’t feel qualified to elaborate
I think the word childhood really doesn’t work for me. As I see it, we evolve. We go through stages. My sons two year old stage is different than his three year old stage (or childhood). Each one is so different, each day is so different. I don’t know, the more I think about it childhood just seems like a silly term that makes adults feel silly for playing
I’m not a child anymore?!?! Sniffle, Sob!!!! I’m kidding
For me there never was one defining moment. Just some pauses and “Whoa!” moments along the way.
I think one of my biggest moments was, in 6th grade, when I realized that school was no longer fun. Somehow, that natural curiosity and eagerness to learn had been squashed. I was sad.
Lately, I don’t feel like I have that many childlike moments. But for me, actually being around children helps. It doesn’t make me feel like more of a child, but it at least reminds me of games I enjoyed, and the activities I loved when I was that age. I don’t get to feel exactly like a child, but at least I can revisit childhood.
well, when my first daughter was born- that was a big one. but i don’t think i really “grew up” until almost two years later when i gave birth to my identical twin daughters who were both stillborn. there is a definite dividing line- everything that came before that and everything that came after. all of my parents’ divorces, bankruptcies, horrible times…they were all big events, but nothing quite as defining as losing my twin daughters.
xoxo,
erika
funfinns.com
Erika – Welcome to ILI! Thank you for your comment. I cannot begin to imagine what your Before & After has been like. I just checked out your great blog and I think it is brave and wonderful that you are recording your stories there. I see from your most recent post that we both know Lauren of Embrace the Detour. Lauren and I went to school together and she is a friend of my sister’s.
I am very intrigued by the existential concept of Before and After, of life events so formative that they really slice existence in two. I think I will write a post about this and credit you with its genesis.
Come back (and comment) soon!
Personally, I’m still a kid. And I like it that way. No expiration on whatever phase I choose.
And, um… I sorta like bologna. Not only does it make me think of a city in Italy, but it reminds me of my childhood – bologna and cheese sandwiches for lunch. Very 60s. But I still like it.
I think you are right, Aidan. I feel that way – I can’t possibly be a child but then I think “wow, I must be an adult” when I have to make those adult decisions.
Over and over again.
I think we lose our childhood in steps.
From the first moment when we let go of Mom’s hand to walk across the carpet;
To the moment we let go of Mom’s hand to walk into Kindergarden alone;
To the moment we let go of Mom’s hand to walk out the door on our first date;
To the moment we let go of Mom’s hand and place our hands on the steering wheel and gearshift;
To the moment we let go of Mom’s hand and march onto stage to get our diploma;
To the moment we let go of Mom’s hand and get on the plane to go to college;
To the moment we let go of Dad’s hand and promise to hold another’s hand forever;
To the moment we let go of Husband’s hand to give it just one more big push;
To the moment we let go of Mom’s hand after it has turned cold.
Then we step (fall, leap) into the job of Mother, Wife, Grandmother. Then we are replaced as children.
Childhood never expires; it waxes and wanes.
It’s a place we always come back to in the end.
blessings, kim
(Lauren sent me here. I’m the mother of her friend Katherine. Love your blog.)
Kim – Welcome to ILI! I like to think that childhood never expires, that there are just fleeting moments that are painfully adult. I am so happy to encounter another friend of Lauren’s? When is that silly little Miller baby going to make his/her debut?? Thanks for your comment. I hope you come back and often!
I was thinking about this post quite a bit today. Why? Because it was a brutal day in which I slogged through all sorts of grown up stuff.
I had a fabulous childhood, but I don’t think that I’d like to relive it. Too many cool things that I couldn’t do as a kid, but I might consider being 19 again.
For me childhood left in one fell swoop. One day, one instant. Gone.
I still feel like a kid at heart.I hope I always do.
I’m only 21 so in some places I’m just barely adult. That being said I think my child hod started to leave when I started to let people down. Other hallmarks include moving out, first full time job, (especially that first paycheque)First apartment,grocery shopping on your own for the first time. For me most significantly it was when a friend from Highschool died, that was an adulthood day.
I would say that childhood expires when you first have to pay bills.
*grimace*
I agree with you, it happens over and over.
Two distinct moments stand out for me. First, going to work in a suit for the first time and feeling like an imposter until it hit me that I was officially a grown up and not wearing some costume for Halloween. Second, in that first rocky year of my marriage when I had to really call on all of my inner strength to muddle through (thankfully to the happy ending!)
By the time I had my baby girl I had already left any notions that I was a kid anymore in the dust so that revelation wasn’t in the forefront of my mind.