Three Truths and a Lie Adults Told Me About Growing Up

Don’t believe everything you hear when you’re a kid, even when it’s coming from your own parents.

Perhaps the most annoying thing about growing up is how adults are constantly telling you what’s going to happen to you “Someday when you get older.” I hated it when grown-ups told me that stuff when I was younger.

I wasn’t always upset at the things they said, but I was often galled at the way they said it. So many times, I’d hear one of my peers get into an argument with his mom about something that really didn’t matter in the long run.

It would escalate, cross words were spoken, and then—wait for it, yes, here it comes—she’d say something like: “You’ll understand when you’re an adult.”

Why did parents always act like everything they said would magically make sense to us someday simply because we would get older?

If you think about it, it’s a fairly passive-aggressive tactic, where the adult is essentially invalidating the need for a discussion at all. They’re saying, in essence:

“I am not even going to try to persuade you. I don’t need to argue with you because that would be a waste of time. All I have to do is wait a few years, and you’ll automatically join my side.”

I was always confused as to why they seemed so sure that this would be the case. Adults said a lot of things with an impenetrable air of certainty:

• You’ll thank me later.

• You’ll regret that in the future.

• You’ll be sorry.

• You’ll understand when you’re older.

You couldn’t argue with any of these. I mean that you literally couldn’t argue with them because they wouldn’t let you, but also that you couldn’t argue with them because you weren’t sure if they were true or not.

When I finally grew up and became a parent myself, it’s been interesting to see, after almost two decades of fatherhood, which of the things adults told me turned out to be true and which of them turned out to be false.

Here’s a list of three truths and a lie that I was told by my parents or other adults their age when I was growing up.

1: You’re only young once.

Verdict: truth.

This kind of sentiment takes many different forms, and you’ve likely heard all kinds of variations over the years. They pop up especially frequently in the lyrics to country songs:

• Don’t blink (Kenny Chesney)

• You’re gonna miss this (Trace Adkins)

• Don’t rush this (Josh Turner)

Interestingly, while I heard variations of this as a kid, I heard this more often when I was a new parent. Parents of older kids would look at my wife and me and tell us — unsolicited, of course — we never welcomed this advice:

“Don’t rush this season. Soon enough, they’ll be older, and you’ll look back on these days and wish your kids were still this age.”

Ugh. This is actually a very rude thing to say to new parents dealing with babies screaming so much at night that you get no sleep and you’re fighting with your spouse because you can’t remember whose turn it is to change the diaper…

Life just became a whole lot harder for you really quickly, and you still have to do all the normal “grown-up” tasks you did before, but now with a baby. And now these older jerks are laughing at us and telling us we’re going to “miss this?”

WTF?

This was especially hard for my wife and me because, for the first few years, we lived in a season where we had three children in diapers at the same time and two nursing babies (look up “tandem breastfeeding” — that’s a thing).

What kind of a jerk would come along and say that these were “the easy days” and that it would only get harder from here?!

I hated it when people said this. It was insensitive and unneeded.

Having said that, I do have to admit they were right. Sort of.

Those days were extremely difficult: holding four children’s hands as we crossed the street and constantly outgrowing our cars because we kept needing to put yet another car seat in the back was annoying and expensive.

But now, with teenagers in my house, I do almost long for those days.

Actually, having teenagers is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. Oh, if only I could go back to the days when all I had to do was wipe vomit off the floor and burp a precious little baby, or even two. That would be great.

These days my wife and I recently found out that my son’s classmates were expelled for getting into a fistfight in the bathroom, which resulted in one kid breaking another kid’s ribs.

Also, all the girls in one class want to shave their heads together as some sort of weird trend. And they secretly smoke “vapes” when their teachers aren’t looking.

My son recently asked me if he could get a tattoo. When I scoffed at such a preposterous idea (a 14-year-old boy getting a tattoo?), he countered with:

“Why’s that so weird? Jamie has a tattoo, and she’s only a year older than me.”

!(@&*@#&@#*O&@#*&@#*)&@#)*&!@#)*(&!@)(*&!????????

Would I go back to those days when my kids loved me unconditionally and just needed to be rocked and patted and have their little bottoms wiped and then be sung to before bed?

Sure. Sometimes. I’ll concede the point, even though it’s stupid to say it out loud.

Parents and other adults: it’s okay for you to think this, but keep it to yourself. They’ll figure it out on their own someday.

#2: I only have your best interest in mind.

Verdict: truth.

This idea also takes many forms. Sometimes, parents will say:

• I’m doing you a favor.

• This is for your own good.

• You’ll thank me later.

• You’ll understand when you’re older.

As with the above, this sounds rude to say out loud, because parents usually only whip this one out in anger when they’re arguing with their kids about an especially contentious issue.

For example, I have two daughters. One of them is a blonde, and the other is a redhead. Last year, my redheaded daughter wanted to bleach her hair blonde.

She nearly cried about it. Begged me for it. Talked about it all the time. I asked her to show me a picture of what she had in mind. It looked awful.

Why would someone gifted with such beautiful hair go to such great lengths to destroy it? Why would she take her red hair—her defining visual characteristic—and dye it so she could look exactly like her older sister?

I asked her: “You do realize that if you try this and you hate it, you’ll have to wait a year, or maybe even two or three, for it to go back to its normal color, right?”

“Yes, Dad, I’m okay with that,” she insisted.

I still wasn’t convinced, so I said, “Okay, but not yet. Let’s wait a few months until after we get family photos.” She agreed.

A few months later, we took our family photos. Immediately afterward, she asked me: “So, Dad, remember what you said about my hair?”

“Yes, I remember. You can bleach your hair now,” I said ruefully, but still willing to keep up my end of the bargain.

“Oh, that? No, I don’t want to do that anymore,” she said. “I just want to cut it with layers. Can I do that instead?”

Sigh….

“Yes,” I told her.

Boy, was I glad she changed her mind after all!

I kept putting it off, despite her constant badgering, because she felt a strange sense of urgency about it. Yet, when I finally relented and agreed to it, she had already moved on.

In my opinion, I was validated. I was doing her a favor. I did have her best interest in mind.

But I didn’t need to wave it in her face, and I didn’t tell her: “You’ll thank me later.”

I just quietly thought it inside without saying it out loud.

#3: Eat your dinner. Be thankful you’re not one of “those starving kids in Africa.”

Verdict: truth.

I never understood this kind of “I’m going to shame you for the nice thing I just gave you” parenting move.

It’s weird: parents work hard to pay for nice things, like providing three healthy meals a day and then make their kids feel guilty about the exact thing they just gave them.

Well, of course, I know why now. As a parent, I totally get it: it’s because kids are ungrateful little jerks who have no idea how good they have it.

But that’s a blessing that they have no idea how good they have it. It means you’re a good parent!

If your kids have never known true poverty, homelessness, or hunger, they can count themselves blessed. And you can count yourself blessed as a parent to have been able to provide that for them.

But don’t shame them for it!

All that talk about “the kids starving in Africa” — really, what does that have to do with anything? Are you trying to tell your kids that they’re lucky they were born into your family so they didn’t have to starve like “the poor Africans?”

What a dumb thing to say.

You, as a parent, would do well to remind yourself that you were lucky you were born into a situation where you can provide for your children, unlike “the poor Africans.”

Yes, I know: it’s hard to make enough money to provide for kids in America and most other countries. I have provided for five kids on one income before inflation made it even harder.

But c’mon, if you aren’t one of those families where the 48-year-old mother of 12 children scavenges for scraps in the flaming dumps of Bangladesh to try to eke out an existence, you’re doing pretty well yourself.

Your kids, as children, are blessed, and you, as a parent, are blessed.

However, having said that… the point is still completely true. We should be thankful we’re not literally starving or living out on the streets.

Over the years, I’ve met homeless people. I’ve met drug addicts. I’ve met children and vulnerable women who live alone, sleep under bridges, and occasionally starve.

It’s not pretty. Nobody wants that life. The people who live that life don’t want that life.

It is absolutely true to say that we should be thankful for what we have. It is also absolutely true to say that your kids “don’t know how good they have it.”

But rubbing it in their faces doesn’t help.

#4: You think being a kid is hard? Just wait until you become an adult.

Verdict: lie.

This is usually spoken out of spite, to intentionally hurt a child when an adult feels that he or she is too entitled or complaining about nothing of consequence.

In a sense, it is almost true.

When kids look at their very first paycheck from their very first part-time job and they see for the very first time just how very much money the government steals from them, it is disheartening for them.

As they watch their $200 paycheck slowly get reduced to about $82 after taxes, savings, the cost of meals, the cost of gas to drive to and from work, or whatever their very small number of expenses adds up to—it is hard not to laugh at their pitifully small problems.

It seems like a good idea to tell kids, “Just wait until you have to pay for real things, like a mortgage, or health insurance, or doctor bills, or replacing the roof on the house,” etc., etc., etc.

And many parents do.

They think that children have small bills. Small problems. Small levels of stress. They think that life is easier for kids.

THIS IS A LIE!

I knew it then, and I’m re-affirming it now. My life as a kid was much harder than it is now.

Kids have an unbelievably difficult life, and adults should stop belittling them for it.

When I was a kid, I often thought about suicide. I often hated my life. I had very little control. I had very little autonomy. I experienced bullying on a daily basis. I had huge emotional challenges inside my body, small as it may have been. I had friend problems. I had girl problems. I had mental problems without words to explain them.

I had fear, loneliness, depression, despair, isolation, jealousy, hatred, arousal, lust, anger, and rage, and I had no idea what to do with any of that, nobody to talk to about it, and no solutions.

It had been made clear to me that the only solution to all those problems was to simply become an adult.

Not that becoming an adult would actually make my life any better, of course.

On the contrary—it would make my life worse—that’s what adults kept telling me. Once I finally grew up, my life would be so much harder. But then, at least, I could look back at my life now, as a child, and fondly recall these days when it was so much easier.

WHAT AN INVERTED PYRAMID OF PIFFLE!

LIES! LIES! LIES!

My life is much harder today, financially.

My life is much harder today, logistically.

But don’t even tell me adults have life harder than kids. No way.

Adults can have sex. They can drink alcohol. They can drive a car anywhere they want, anytime they want, any day they want. They can quit their jobs and start a new career. They can tell their friends, “I don’t want to be your friend anymore,” and move on. They can eat dinner for breakfast or eat candy for dinner.

Adults can cuss, smoke, get drunk, get high, get divorced, get fat, get bad grades, fail, stay up late, sleep in late, and look at porn — basically, adults can satisfy just about any urge they want at any time, and nobody will stop them.

In a sense, adults are just tall kids with lots of cash in their pockets and no parents to tell them “no.”

Adults can decide on a random Thursday morning, “I would like to go to Paris,” then literally take a taxi to the local airport, hop on an airplane, and spend all the money they have (because they actually have money) flying to Paris. And nobody will question them at any point in the process.

Once they finally get to Paris, they can stay up until 2:00 am, get drunk on champagne, have an adulterous affair, smoke pot under the Eiffel Tower, gaze up at the stars, and ponder the meaning of life… and then come home as though nothing even happened.

And nobody can stop them.

If you’re a man and you’re feeling up to it, you can buy cool shit like a convertible car.

If you’re a woman, and you’re feeling up to it, you can get a boob job.

Let’s not kid ourselves: life as an adult is pretty incredible. Don’t pretend it isn’t.

Yes, being an adult is hard. But being a child, at least for me, was much harder. And every time an adult told me just how much harder my life would get when I finally became an adult, it made me even less interested in becoming one.

Adults, please don’t lie to your kids. Tell them the truths above if and when needed (which is almost never, as I said). Don’t tell them what you know is a lie.

Their lives are hard enough already. Your goal should be to make them want to join us.