In Favor of Adulthood

The other day while I was on Facebook, I noticed a new group. I don't recall the exact title of the group, but it went something along the lines of wishing to be a child when the most difficult choice was deciding what color crayon to use. I smiled and thought of those idyllic childhood days until my attention was diverted by a crying Angela who stood in front of the two steps transitioning from the kitchen to the living room. Normally, she is such a happy go lucky soul; however, of late I have noticed an uptick in crying. Frustration has reached an apex for her. She is caught between desire (to get up the stairs) and her limitations (not being able to coordinate all the body parts necessary for this feat). As I watched her struggle with the step, I realized that group on Facebook had it all wrong. Adulthood is the better stage. No, I am not being sarcastic, droll, or any derivation of those words. I am being 100% honest. I prefer bring an adult.


Yes, as an adult, one faces major stresses and responsibilities (think mortgages, bosses, parenthood), but it's not like childhood is devoid of stresses and responsibilities. While it is true that kids play all day, remember that play is their work and that work is exhausting physically and mentally. I can personally attest to the physical exhaustion of play. On the days Alice is home from school, we are on the go, go, go. I work out simply so I can build the endurance to keep up with her. For Angela the physical aspect of play is all consuming as she works on refining walking skills. Can you imagine the constant stress and frustration felt by the bourgeoning walker? The fact that she keeps trying despite constant failure awes me. Then there is the mental aspect of play. All that "common knowledge" that we have stored in our craws came from somewhere. Imagine constantly being bombarded by new things, experiences, and stimuli. Kids deal with this on a constant basis. Add to this limited language/communication skills and is it any wonder that they have tantrums? As adults, we have the words to express how we feel for when we are frustrated, sad, tired and so forth. We have also learned coping mechanisms for when we experience these feelings (that is the hope anyway); but, kids have not developed that side of themselves yet. There is also the extreme of this- no words at all. Angela can say and understand the words: Mama, Dada, and Pup (for Pug). She can point to things that she wants. She can laugh to express approval and scream/cry to show displeasure. Imagine dealing with those limitations on a regular basis. That does not sound idyllic to me.


There is also the issue of personal autonomy. Yes, due to adult responsibilities, it is limited, but it is worse for children. I realized this the other day when Alice told me she wanted to stay home and play with her trains. I needed to get to the grocery store to pick up dinner. Guess who won? Kids are dragged everywhere regardless of whether they want to come along for the ride or not. When presented with choices, the choices are limited to the ones that I provide. Ideas like ice cream for dinner are rebuffed along with extended bedtimes (little do my children know that John and I frequently indulge in an ice cream dinner). This highlights the next stinky thing about childhood- learning the lesson that life is unfair and people are mean. As adults, we know this already. Again, we have built coping mechanisms for this. When I encounter a stuck up mom on the playground, I cease trying to be friendly and walk away (probably thinking the word "bitch" as I do so). I don't take things like that personally. Kids can't help but take it personally. I periodically deal with this when Alice tries playing with the ubiquitous "mean girls." How does one explain this phenomenon to a 3 year old? They don't get that some people are just mean, and no matter how friendly you are, they will still be mean.


So give me adulthood with its ice cream dinners and knowledge. Heck, I will take any stage that does not involve going through puberty again. That will be a post at a later date I am sure.

Good for the Soul

It is funny how certain things that people stay stick with you. Lately I have been thinking often about an old college professor that I had when I went to Villanova. Dr. Ernest Ramirez was a 300 pound good old boy with a Texas drawl. I distinctly remember our first day in class and his admonishment to call him "Ernie". He was the antithesis of pretentious which in academia is pretty rare. Needless to say, I so enjoyed his down to earth manner and humor that I don't think I ever missed one of his education classes that semester.


It was during one of these education classes that Ernie mentioned how sad it was that the use of art and aesthetics in the classroom declined as the student got older. The truth of this statement clicked with me, and when I finally had a classroom to call my own, I made sure to create several assignments each marking period that required some type of art work. All the students, regardless of age or level, enjoyed these assignments and I was always taken away by the results. Now that I have children of my own, I find Ernie's comment coming to mind more and more often; perhaps it is because I often find myself coloring or painting or involved in some type of artistic endeavor with my three year old. These experiences have made me realize Ernie's observation left out a whole other group of people- adults. We don't have enough art and aesthetics in our adult lives. Now, I realize that many people have objects d' art in their homes and offices. As adults, we have the means and ways to go to galleries and museums. What I mean by "art" here is the stuff that we create with our own two hands (regardless of how skillful those hands are). When you consider all the stresses that percolate in the typical adult life( bills, work and family situations…the list is endless) the lack of art is particularly sad as we need the release that it provides the most. Personally, I did not realize how "art-less" my adult life was until I became enmeshed in a Crayola centric world. I forgot how much fun coloring in a coloring book can be; and, as dorky as it sounds, I still get a little charge of excitement when I open up a box of perfectly sharpened new crayons. I love finger painting the shapes that Alice and I fashioned with cookie cutters and our homemade Bake Doh. I have a blast creating decorations and mobiles using some of my yarn stash. Despite being forced by my three year old to use safety scissors (hard when you are left handed and an adult) and having some hefty clean up after most projects, I find myself smiling and less tense as I look at the results of our artistic activities. I even have noticed a difference in John after he manipulates some Play-Doh with Alice. The work pressures and annoyances seem to wash off of him as he creates airplanes and cars and the odd assortment of objects Alice requests.


Now I am not a Pollyanna. Coloring will not make bills, a bad relationship or clinical depression go away. But, it might make you forget about some of these things, at least for a few minutes. So, go to the store and buy yourself a new book of crayons and a coloring book. Now that you are an adult, you can even give yourself some freedom to play outside of the lines (and perhaps have some ice cream for dinner).