If 40 is the new 13, then what does that make 13?

home insemination Kit

By: Jenna Meyers
Updated: Dec. 18, 2015
Originally Published: Oct. 9, 2014

So, my friend and I definitely didn’t share the same taste in music—she was all about Dan Hill (seriously, just try not to sing along: “Sometimes when we touch / The honesty’s too much / And I have to close my eyes aaaaand cry…”) while I was wearing out my “If” 45 (or was it an 8-track?) by Bread. She thought the Beatles were too intense. THE BEATLES! When I was 12 or 13, my mom wasn’t right there beside me, fiddling with the old Marantz, diving deep into U2’s War and saying things like, “I’m so excited about that Edge solo.”

Fast forward to 2014, and parents everywhere are having a similar chat with their elementary-schoolers:

Us: Can you hop on Spotify and add “Shake It Off” to our Sunday Afternoons at Home playlist?
Them: Sure, just as soon as I finish this level.
Us: Thanks. (Five minutes later.) Okay, you’re done with that level. Time to put the iPad down.
Them: But I’m not done with my game!
Us: Turn it off.
Them: But I’m just about to get my stripey next to my wrapped candy.
Us (voice rising): What level are you on? Are you messing with my level 127?! HAND IT BACK!
Them: MommmmmUH! Stop! It’s MY turn!

My mom plays Candy Crush. I play Candy Crush. My 8- and 5-year-olds play Candy Crush. Have you tried Tiny Thief? It’s a super fun game. Phineas & Ferb is brilliant TV, and I’d totally be friends with the little Ninjago guys. Honestly, I actually like Taylor Swift, and I know all the songs from Frozen and Matilda because I want to, not because I’m being forced by a singing snowman. My kids even have a little dance routine for Miley Cyrus’ “Wrecking Ball” because we all love that jam. They also enjoy Beck, Arcade Fire, Dolly Parton, Bob Dylan, Radiohead, and Beyoncé… the list goes on.

I get it: 8 is the new 15, and 40 is the new 13. It’s cool that my kids and I can bond over so much, but it raises a question: If parents and kids all over the globe are into the same stuff at the same time, are parents just getting younger, or are kids maturing faster?

Sometimes, as I download new apps, I worry we adults are fighting a losing battle to avoid facing our own mortality and fading relevance. My friends and I have become that old lady in a miniskirt, clutching her iPhone, elbowing the youths off the stage. In doing so, we risk creating a generation of kids who talk like Stewie from Family Guy and rock skinny jeans over their diapers.

If kids and parents are reading the same post-apocalyptic vampire novels and swapping playlists, what secrets do our tweens and teens have left to keep? What’s their unique outlet for rebellion? It’s a rite of passage to roll your eyes at your parents’ “uncoolness.” Can they really do that if we’re all jamming together at a Katy Perry concert?

It’s like if hippies were jamming to Perry Como, or Judith Light was rocking out to Pearl Jam on Who’s the Boss. The world feels upside down. What will they be talking about in therapy 25 years from now? That Mom was better at Minecraft? Or that Dad embarrassed them at a party by insisting Kanye was better after Kim than before?

I’m not sure what it means for our kids, but I know what it means for me. By the time my mom hit my age, she was free. She could geek out over Loggins & Messina without a care. She could wear sweatpants anywhere because she earned that right. Society saw her as responsible and mature, focusing on survival rather than crushing on Sting. In other words, she was considered old, irrelevant, and invisible. She wasn’t part of any fun or cool demographic; she was just part of the margarine and coffee crowd.

Now, there’s this expectation for us to be not just good parents, but “cool” ones. I have to look like I’m trying, but not too hard—that means wearing Tom’s flats instead of wedges, which are for college kids. Comfort has to take a backseat to style, even if I could rock Eileen Fisher (which, let’s be real, is super forgiving). I’m supposed to know that Jack White is lame, but ironically listening to the White Stripes is perfectly acceptable. And while I secretly love that catchy “Why You Gotta Be So Cruel” song, we have to roll up the windows if it comes on while driving through the neighborhood. Some of my friends, who are surgeons, even use Emojis.

The pressure is real. In the ’80s, any adult playing Frogger and watching cartoons was your stoner uncle living in the basement. Now, that’s just Dad.

Kids and adults have morphed into a hybrid—kids are savvy and ironic, reminding us to update our devices, while we, the responsible bill-payers, have juvenile tastes and a wink at youth culture. We’re part of their world, but not too much—just enough to enhance our credibility. Kids are effortlessly cool these days, and we’re still delivering that “just be yourself” message, only now we’re trying to be like them too. Are we 40-somethings insecure about our place in the zeitgeist, or is it just a rad time to be young?

I know you might think this is my own doing. My kids don’t need to be on the iPad, and I don’t have to care what I wear or listen to. But I enjoy feeling connected and engaged. I love sharing interests with my kids. Pop culture is smarter, funnier, and sharper than ever, and why should I let the kids have all the fun? Plus, if I’m on level 400 and they’re still stuck on 296, they have no right to that tone of mockery. If they do, I can just give them a lesson on how to use candy explosions and send them to their rooms.

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In summary, the lines between parents and kids have blurred, with both sides sharing interests and cultural references. While this creates a unique bond, it also raises questions about individuality and rebellion in a world where everyone seems to be jamming to the same tunes.