Staffer to supervisor who shares the same alma mater:  What year did you graduate?

Supervisor: 1975

Staffer: Oh, I wasn’t even born yet!

There’s more than just a gaping age difference in the office. A culture clash has resulted from four generations working together. As a recent Forbes article noted:

 Take the veterans, (a.k.a. traditionalists) who value hard work and sacrifice…

Enter the baby boomers, a generation of workaholics who value personal fulfillment and view work as an exciting adventure…

Next, Gen X workers want structure and direction. They believe work is a difficult challenge, and they crave immediate feedback….

Finally, Gen Y individuals (the children of baby boomers) are not only tech-savvy, but they are also experts at multitasking. They believe strongly that their work must be fulfilling.

In this generational mix, often the most difficult task for Baby Boomer moms is dealing with staffers who are the same age as our adult children. We want to be their boss, yet we get involved with their personal problems.  We want to make them feel appreciated so we bring cupcakes (correct that, now it’s humus and carrots) for the birthday celebrations.  We even learn to text  rather than leave a voice mail.

But the result can be a mixed message.  Are you their manager or their mother?  How do they regard you?  Not only your management style but your personal style too. It’s how you dress, how hip you are about technology, what’s on your iPod.   Do they regard you as a hopeless dinosaur or as a hip professional?   

You have your own adult children.  Do you really want to surrogate mother and give advice to the lovelorn or  tips on how to get to work on time or save money to move out?  Do you want to be regarded as the perennial office-party planner or money collector for gifts? On the other hand,  you learned to text but do you really want to friend them on Facebook?  Would you rather collapse at home on a Friday night with a decent red wine than join them for a micro brew at the local dive?

 The generational culture clash has been studied by academics, authors,  consultants, and  others but few look at the specific question of how NOT to be a mother a work. Mothering21.com asked two experts, both mothers of adult children,  for some advice.

Cheryl Cran is a management consultant  and author of several books including  “101 Ways to Make Generations X, Y & Zoomers Happy at Work.” Based in Vancouver, she has three children 22, 28 and 30. We chatted on the phone with her:

What’s a zoomer?

A boomer who refuses to age!

Okay lot of us here!  What’s your advice for working with staffers the same age—and sometimes with the same bad habits—as our children?

 Three key points to keep in mind: self awareness, openly communicate, and coach to their higher potential.  By self awareness I mean recognizing the feeling that you want to mother them and that you are like treating them like your own children.

Obviously the best way to manage effectively is not to act like a mother. So how do you handle that, either when you slip into mothering mode or when  they treat you like their mom?

That’s the second point: openly communicating when it becomes necessary. And you’ll know because you’ll feel resentful that something’s wrong. You feel  like a  glorified  babysitter such as when a Gen Y worker starts coming in late routinely and you start to feel like it’s no different than trying to kick your own kid out of bed. 

So other than telling them to buy an alarm clock or two, what  do you do?

 Sit down and tell them: I am not here to be your parent. I am your work supervisor or work colleague. I want you to have  best possible experience at this job but you need to act responsibly.  Then you need to communicate the expectations and the consequences for repeated lateness.

Your third point is coaching. I thought we were done coaching when they outgrew soccer.

Recall your coaching  technique from sports: Wasn’t it to recognize and groom the  higher potential of individual.  Tell a young staffer: I know your goal is to make partner in five years. Here’s the consistent behavior we expect from you. That puts the onus on them rather than the nagging on you.

When we caught up with Pamela Redmond Satran  she was about to head out to Manhattan to apartment hunt with 27-year-old  daughter who had just landed a new job. Also the mother of two sons, 20 and 17, she has written 17 books, including five novels. Her book  and website “How Not to Act Old” is loaded with funny and on-target advice.

 In your book you write: “You don’t need to be mommy or daddy to the entire office, showing up with coffee, remembering everyone’s birthdays, making sure everyone signs the card.”

 The reality is playing the mom role in the office makes you look old, and that’s not good. 

 What does not acting “old” have to do with performing at work? 

To compete Baby Boomers have to stay vital in the work force, and staying vital equals not acting old.

Suppose young workers turn to you for advice with personal issues?

In some ways not doing these things seems counter to your strengths. A strength you might bring to work is your experience and wisdom on a personal level  It’s natural that a younger co-worker might ask you how to deal with  parents or how to move out of the house or a boy friend issue.

So what’s the problem with offering some been-there, done-that advice?

You can easily tip from a surrogate into a more mom or dad role.  And we all know what happens then. They start to feel rebellious, like would if you were their mom. At the same time if totally recuse yourself that could be perceived as acting old.  It’s a delicate line.  Try to gently steer them to talk a friend or their real parent!

So we might master how not to act like a parent but how do we not look like a parent?

Obviously don’t won’t wear a ruffled mini skirt and leggings.  Forget the jeans too. The whole parsing of the jeans is a problem. It’s exceeding hard  to get the right brand and wash. Michelle Obama made J.  Crew cool and while you might not find your size in the store where they stop at size 4 you will find it online.

Why do you feel that glasses are as important as clothes?

 The wrong frames can really age you too.  I called for help from my daughter who helped me pick out new frames when I visited her in Paris.

Any other advice?

Whatever the issue, ask yourself if you were 35 or 40 how would you act? Use that as a reference point. Also you shouldn’t treat a younger co-worker in a way you wouldn’t treat  an older co-worker or someone your own age.

 You’re only as happy as your least happy child.

What happens when you—the parent—are the cause of that unhappiness, at least in the mind of your adult child?

After class last week I listened as two young women, both in their mid-20s, complained about their mothers.  One recounted how she was trying to be “nice and respectful” by calling mother before she got a tattoo: just a simple scroll design on her foot; nothing crazy. But the call backfired; her mother went crazy.   “My mother kept saying ‘You came out of my body beautiful and now you want to mutilate yourself.  Get one when I am dead if you must.’ The she started crying.” The young woman decided not to get the tattoo; it wasn’t worth all the drama.

The other young woman, shaking her head, added her own overbearing-mother vignette. “My mother is very religious.  I was dating a guy of a different religion.  My mother’s response: ‘Get rid of him. It’s not acceptable.’”  The couple recently broke up because of religious differences.

What happens when parents refuse to step back and let adult children make their own decisions?  We prevent them from reaching “emotional” adulthood, the point at which they make–and live with–their own choices, good and bad. Both parent and child often share in the blame.  The parents refuse to let go emotionally and the child craves approval, afraid to make a decision that might displease.  How can we break this cycle?

Mothering21 interviewed Linda Lewis Griffith, a marriage and family therapist with a practice with many young adults in San Luis Obispo, Ca. 

Q: What is emotional adulthood?

The ability to be an adult and make your own decisions, not relying on mom and dad for support.  Just as young adults need to break away and be financially independent they need to learn to become emotionally independent.

Q. What are the signs that your child has not reached emotional adulthood?

Petulant, teenage-like behavior, arguing, saying “don’t tell me what to do” and general ongoing tension with parents.

Q. How can parents offer advice without sending the message that the child must follow it?

It’s all in the way parents present the advice. Perhaps say “I’d like to share my observation or concern with you” instead of saying “This is what I think you should do.”

Q. Sometimes parents find it hard not to step in and take charge, in effect, rescuing  a child from a bad decision.

If your children are grown and out of the house, respect them as adults and stop being an overbearing parent.  If you have a serious concern gently say what’s on your mind and then step back. Watch from the sidelines as adult children take their own turns at bat. Think of yourself too: You don’t need the stress of their everyday problems and dramas so stay out of them.

Q. Can you offer some tips to help children—and their parents—grow emotionally?

• Respect and honor your children and trust them to make good decisions.  They won’t always but let them learn from their mistakes.
• Remind them that you love and support them.
• Steer away from contentious topics and honor the decision of your child not to discuss those hot-button topics. Exert some self control.
• Focus on their strengths. As parents we tend to harp on problem areas. Talk about what they do well,  not what they need to do better.
• Find fun activities. Go to a spa with your daughter or a sports event with your son (or vice versa). You’ll strengthen the relationship and if you’re fun to be with, they’ll want to be with you more often.

What’s a parent to do when an adult child behaves badly?

A number of years ago a colleague was called out of a conference.  He returned, his face ashen, and quickly gathered his belongings: his wife had telephoned that their teenage son had been arrested for drug possession.  He was meeting her and a lawyer at the police station. After he left, another colleague, the father of two lovely daughters in their twenties turned and said, “Your kids will disappoint in a major way at least once. But you and they eventually get over it.”

Imagine the disappointment that Kultida Woods, Tiger’s mother, must have felt as she watched her son apologize for his infidelities on national television last month.  Surely she was embarrassed as he talked about how the values she had taught him were thrown in a heap like dirty clothes. 

In all likelihood, none of us will ever have to watch our child apologize for misdeeds before millions of people (A point astutely raised by New York Times columnist David Carr who wrote that while he understood why an apology was part of the recovery process “I just don’t know what the rest of us were doing there.”

We all fervently hope that our children will never implode in such a devastating manner.  But like my colleague warned, most adult children manage to disappoint at least once in a major way (and we will probably do the same to them).  How is a parent supposed to react beyond wringing hands and whining “Where did I go wrong?” 

 Across the world adult children are spending their money (and sometimes yours) telling their therapists exactly how we went wrong as parents.  Are we supposed to offer a mea culpa? Perhaps we didn’t go wrong, our children did and it’s their problem to fix it.  Suggestions on how to encourage adult children to take “ownership” of their problems has spawned a mini-library of books:

“Setting Boundaries with Your Adult Children: Six Steps to Hope and Healing for Struggling Parents”

“The Enabler: When Helping Hurts the Ones You Love”

“When Parents Hurt: Compassionate Strategies When You and Your Grown Child Don’t Get Along “

“Walking on Eggshells: Navigating the Delicate Relationship Between Adult Children and Parents”

 The message in yet another book, “When Our Grown Kids Disappoint Us” from psychologist Jane Adams, is “To parents who are still trying to “fix” their adult children — Stop!” The book’s subtitle aptly sums up her approach: Letting Go of Their Problems, Loving Them Anyway, and Getting on with Our Lives

Easier said then done as for some of us separating from our adult children’s problems is like trying to remove Krazy Glue.   Of course, there are distinctions that need to be made:  The “bad things” done by adult children range from disappointing to difficult to devastating; from immature actions to addictions.  In many of those cases a self-help book is not enough and parents may need their own therapists and/or support group like Alanon to find their way through what seems like impossibly trying times.

Age is another distinction: bad behavior at 20 is different from bad behavior at 35.  For parents the hard question is where’s the line ? When it is no longer your responsibility, where you are taking too much on yourself and promoting the very immaturity/lack of self-reliance that may be part of the problem? That’s a question many parents ask themselves as they search out, sometimes over and over, help for an adult child caught in a quagmire of difficulties.

 After the press conference ended, Kultida Woods remained to talk to wire service reporters who asked her what she told her son as she hugged him.  She said she whispered, “I’m so proud of you. Never think you stand alone. Mom will always be there for you, and I love you.”

Isn’t that the message we all want to give to our children?  While we certainly don’t condone certain behavior we are always there for them, no matter what the circumstance.  That was the message of my colleague to his son, who solved his problems and is now a successful professional,  thanks to his own efforts and to the support of his parents.

www.amazon.com/Walking-Eggshells-Navigating-Delicate-Relationship/dp/0767920856/ref=pd_sim_b_5

We probably don’t know the answer, but maybe we can teach our kids to ask themselves the important questions

What’s almost as delicious–and unnerving–as falling in love?

Watching, as your child ventures giddily onto that shaky wire.

Because you know. You know that once they’re in the arms of Eros, they’re toast. If you witness dangerous missteps–like a partner who, your gut tells you, isn’t the best fit–you’ll probably be tuned out, just like you tuned out your parents’ clatter and drone. It takes many years to comprehend that parents, those clueless ancients, just might be women and men with epic love stories/hangovers/joneses all their own. Stories that might’ve saved an inexperienced youth a world of hurt.

“Why didn’t they tell me??” you may have wondered, those many moons ago, scraping your bloody entrails off the floor after evisceration by Mr. or Ms. Wrong. Well, probably they did, but the drumbeat in your heart and loins was much too loud. Or maybe they hailed from the “Hands-Off” School of Parenting Adult Offspring, where one is constrained from offering unsolicited advice. And then there was my parents’ school: harangue so loudly, make predictions so dire, that a stubborn, immature daughter will do just about anything–including hang onto Mr. Wrong–to prove them wrong.

Given that my own parents–bless their ferociously loving hearts–lacked boundaries, I fretted, as a young mother, about how I could possibly deal with… anything. Turns out that a perk of being an “elderly primigravida” (a super-sexy term employed during my amnios) is that you can learn a lot by observing how your peers, several jumps ahead of you in everything from toilet-training to dating rules, are muddling through.

Our first babysitter was a delightful young woman whose parents were unhappy about her choice of boyfriend. With the fascination of an anthropologist studying a newly discovered tribe, I watched how they handled it. Sans haranguing, they explained their concerns, assured her they loved her, that their door was always open and they would be gracious to all who entered. Then they took a step back and quietly let time (and the good sense they’d inculcated in their offspring) do its work.  I was amazed when the romance fizzled in a mere six months, sans the parent-child psychodramas and power struggles I still wince to remember.

It wasn’t that these parents were such skilled acrobats on the tightrope of love. In fact, several years later, their own marriage ended. It was, I think, that they spoke their emotional truth—respectfully–in the context of a parent-child relationship where this was valued and exercised from day one. This resonated for me, as it provided some sort of bridge between the lands of “no comment” and “no boundaries,” neither of which felt right for the family I envisioned.

Something else I observed, early on: parents’ stories (doled out over the years, in age-appropriate soundbytes) are usually more impactful than lectures shouted across the chasm when it’s already too late.

Stories like:

Jogging around Washington Square Park (the one time I, like, actually ever do this), I meet the cute grad student who’s moved into my building. Bill (not his real name) asks me to dinner, we click, and are open about our “intentions.” I say I’m in my late 20s, ready to get serious, eager to have kids. He quickly points out that he’s his early 20s and in no hurry for marriage.

Three years later, when we break up, we’ll confess to having had the identical thought as we locked eyes, that first night: “I really, really like you, and I know you like me – and I’m totally going to change your mind about EVERYTHING.”

Wrong.

Bad timing isn’t the only strike against us. My parents see Bill’s skittishness as a sign of insincerity (which it isn’t), and bitterly castigate me for wasting my time with him.  Bill’s family – top-heavy with high-profile shrinks, and multiple divorces – isn’t keen on me, either. Though they are Jewish, they’ve pegged me (because I’m a daughter of Holocaust survivors) as irreparably scarred and “a mindless slave to archaic tradition.”  Which I’m not.

And so Bill and I persevere for years, determined to fit square peg into round hole, to show everybody.

Until, one day, everything changes.

In his apartment (he’s in the library, studying), I spot a letter addressed to Bill from his grandfather, an imperious analyst with whom he’s had little contact the whole time we’ve been together.

I hesitate only an instant before reading it.

Apparently Bill has reached out to Grandpapa because he doesn’t want to lose me but feels pressured by my ultimatums. Much-married Grandpapa cautions Bill about the family’s track record.  What on earth could you two be thinking, he writes: “As the shoe-seller tries to convince his customers – ‘Go on, buy the hurting shoes, and they will stop hurting!?’”

The metaphor hits its mark like a laser. I literally cannot breathe. Years of murky, wishful thinking become meaningless vapor; I can see for miles. I can’t see my destiny, but I know it’s not Bill. This no longer terrifies me. Because I know now that the stupidest, sorriest fate of all would be “buying” what didn’t fit from the get-go, or believing that marriage magically enables two people  – even caring, well-intentioned people – to generate sufficient light and heat to override their differences. I know now that I will never let this happen.

Brandishing the letter, I run through Washington Square. In the library, Bill and I say our teary, relieved goodbyes.

Four days later I meet the man who will become my husband. There is no forcing of square pegs into round holes.  I see the light, and good Lord, I feel the heat; and the years ahead, while by no means perfect, are pretty darn good. I hear that Bill, too, has done well for himself and his family.

From the time my kids were little, I’ve relayed this story of the hurting shoes, and others, in the hopes that when they’re in a place where they cannot hear my voice, they will still hear the undeniable rush of emotional truth, deep inside their own hearts.

Did a few words of perfectly timed advice ever change your life – or teach you something profound, to pass along?

Vivien Orbach-Smith teaches journalism to undergraduates in NYU’s Arthur L. Carter Journalism Institute, and co- authored Soaring Underground: A Young Fugitive’s Life in Nazi Berlin, her father’s memoir of survival.

A 30-year-old son brings a 40-something woman to Sunday dinner at the family home. The next day he calls his mom, “So what do you think?” Mom answers, “She’s seems nice but not really your type.”   The son hangs up mad and the mom is puzzled: He asked her opinion; wasn’t she supposed to be honest?  

Say everything or say nothing to our adult children?  The topic doesn’t matter: love, money, careers, grandchildren. For some parents it’s their personality: they’re going to give their opinion whether asked or not. Other parents could have explosion go off in their midst and they wouldn’t say anything. 

 Most of us fall somewhere in the middle, often unsure whether to speak out or be quiet.  A friend complained, “I know I am supposed to bite my tongue. But I just can’t.  I just didn’t realize it would be so bloody.”

Columnist Tracey Barnes Priestley considered this dilemma in “Learning to Let Go, writing about her daughter’s decision to pursue a career with an international relief agency.  Ms. Priestley admits that part of her prefers to see her daughter in a safe office job. However, she considers that kind of  thinking both “selfish” and wrong for two reasons:

First, assuming that we parents know what is best for our adult children, and second, deluding ourselves into believing that we actually have some control over how they will live their lives.

Eventually, all parents and children need to cut that little old cord because adult children are responsible for their own life decisions, no matter what we parents may want — or need.

No parent expects their adult children to march lockstep to their advice. Indeed one of the hallmarks of adulthood is learning to accept responsibility for your own decisions.  But does that preclude parents from making suggestions, and even, horrors, giving an opinion, especially based on “been there, done that”?

Think about it.  You spent 21 years getting your kid launched (okay somewhat launched); you’ll probably spend another two decades or more with your adult child.  Are you suddenly supposed to hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil?

Maybe it’s not so much what you say but how you say it.  So what should you say when  you son wants to join the Marines or your daughter decides to make pottery for a living or your son buys a car that he really can’t afford, or your daughter decides to go back to work and put the twins in daycare? Maybe it’s okay to give your opinion, suggestions, advice but to think before you speak, and to consider your child’s best interest, not as Ms. Priestly admits, our own sometimes-selfish motives.

Maybe it’s also learning how to accept–and even support–your child’s decision, whatever it is, after you spoken your piece. Perhaps we should apply the advice theologian Reinhold Niebuhr wrote in the Serenity Prayer not only to own lives but to those of our adult children:

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

A son who lives and works few hours away comes home for the weekend, grumbles hello, gives a quick hug, grabs a drink, and plops on the couch in front of the big screen TV.  Something is clearly wrong but he’s not  talking.  A daughter, halfway around the world, calls to say her fiancé is killed in a freak accident but orders her parents to  “stay home.”

Remember that outdated adage that children should be seen and not heard. Sometimes adult children give their parents that same message:  I have a  problem but I don’t want your advice.

 The friend who related that her son was clearly upset but didn’t want to talk is a psychologist. She called it a “push-pull reaction.”  Her son wanted to be home near his family, in effect pulling them close, but he also didn’t want to talk about what was bothering him, pushing them away. 

What’s a mother to do?  Our instinct is to bandage that scraped knee, kiss on the head, give a hug and reassure that everything is going to be okay. But both we and our adult children know that it’s not so easy to soothe disappointments, failures, anger and make the hurt go away as we did when they were kiddies. Our inability to solve all their problems is part of growing and separating and letting them lead their own lives. Sometimes that’s not so easy to do.

 This message was conveyed in a touching article “Lettting Go” by novelist Karen Joy Fowler in  the December Real Simple magazine.  Several years ago, Ms. Fowler’s daughter, Shannon, was in Thailand with her fiancé when he died suddenly after being bitten by a jellyfish.  (Shannon wrote her story for Real Simple several years ago; her mom’s story is available only in the print edition.)   

The Fowlers had missed their daughter’s  initial phone calls with the devastating  news.  When they finally connected  their first instinct was to go to their daughter’s side but  Shannon told them  “I don’t want you here.”  

When they finally did see her at the funeral in Australia Karen Fowler writes,

 “I had my own irrational guilt. I am her mother; it’s my job to keep her safe. Clearly I hadn’t done my job.  I hadn’t even been home when she called.”

The first Christmas after the death, Shannon did not want to go home so her family joined her in Spain, at her side and on her terms.  Years have passed and after traveling around Eastern Europe Shannon is writing a memoir, a task that her author mom can help her with.

What has Karen learned from this difficult experience? She writes,

“I no longer feel it’s my job to protect her from all the bad things; I’ve seen too clearly that I can’t. She is my daughter and the only expert on the way to live her life.  I am her mother with all the love and limitations that implies.”

Giving love is easy, accepting those limitations is the hard part; it’s a work in progress, something perhaps our children will  understand when they too become parents.

Home for the Holidays…and Every Other Day

That’s the title of a new report by the Pew Research Center that found ten percent of adults ages 18 to 34 (10%) say the poor economy has forced them to move back home in the past year.

Other findings: 12% say they acquired a roommate; 15% of adults younger than 35 say they have postponed getting married because of the recession, and 14% say they have delayed having a baby.

 Social Etiquette

Intergenerational  issues filled the NY Times Social Q’s column last week. A stepmother  wants to know if it’s okay to borrow money from her wealthy stepdaughters (now there’s a switch).  A daughter-in-law  complains that her husband’s mother scolds her  friends on Facebook. And a mom notes that even her adult children are substituting the phrase “no problem” for “you’re welcome.” To the last problem columnist Philip Galanes replies,

I prefer “you’re welcome” or “my pleasure” — which is even better in its effusive (and mostly fake) courtliness. But I’m afraid, Karen, this is what we in the etiquette business call a high-class problem: Much better that the whippersnappers are doing the right thing that calls for your thanks in the first place, right? So try to focus on that instead.

Toy Safety

Grandparents will be out there storming the malls in pursuit of holiday presents for the grandkiddies.  A lot has changed since our children were tots including safety issues. (Just last week more dropside cribs were recalled.)  Before buying check out the various websites recommended in  seattlepi.com  “Boomer Consumer” column including  Healthystuff.org  and Trouble in Toyland. 

Club Sandwich Generation 

We’ve all heard of the sandwich generation but here’s a new term described in NewJerseynewsroom.com.  The club sandwich is “those in their 50s or 60s, sandwiched between aging parents, adult children and grandchildren.” Hold the mayo, slippery enough already.

My hair colorist makes the monotonous process whiz by with nonstop commentary on her grown children.  During a recent touchup, I learned about her daughter’s new baby and plans to return to work with the colorist babysitting two days a week.  (Granny day care will be a future post.)  She also shared that that her son and his wife were expecting a second baby girl, that the wife has declared “two’s the limit” and that the son was getting a vasectomy.  The colorist shook her head, saying, “Sometimes I don’t need to know everything.  Too much information. Next it will be on Facebook.”

Welcome to your adult offspring’s Facebook, Mom and Dad.

Real-time revelations about hook-ups and break-ups.  Blow-by-blow details of last night’s bender.  Blasé talk of  tattoos in private places, Brazilian waxes, unpaid taxes. True confessions about neuroses, family histories, getting fired.

“Too much information” (TMI)  translates into another example of the generational divide. Yes, Baby Boomers disclose their daily soap operas too, but the preferred mode is the phone, email or that increasingly rare social practice, in person.

In contrast, Gen Y (late teens to early 30s) and many Gen X (mid30s to early 40s)  chronicle their personal lives and innermost thoughts online with a nonchalance their parents find puzzling – even alarming. Most log on and update their statuses at least once a day, dishing the details to an average of 120 “friends.”

So how does that impact the parents? Some of that TMI finds its way back to mom, thanks to six degrees of separation.  Recently a mom learned that her pregnant daughter was having a baby girl. She first heard the news from a friend whose daughter had seen it on the pregnant woman’s Facebook page.  Apparently the pregnant daughter had posted “Back from the doctor and everything is coming up pink” before calling her own mom. News gets around fast online.

Some moms, of course, go on the offensive and figure if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em and try to “friend” their grown children so they too can see updates in real time.  Whether or not a child confirms a parent’s  “friend” request seems to depends on their relationship, and the child’s age.  When it comes to college students, “no way!” is the response of most of my students, so much so that it prompted one to write an article, “You’ve Got One Friend Request, Your Mom.”

But what about children beyond college and the “emerging adult” stage?  The worry is no longer that parents will peruse photos of last night’s beer bash. Rather it’s that the daily life commentary routinely posted by Gen Y and Gen X  includes details that their parents consider personal and private, not to be shared with hundreds of friends, colleagues, and second- and third-“tier” acquaintances

A New York magazine article examined this generational difference in the “Say Everything” generation

More young people are putting more personal information out in public than any older person ever would and yet they seem mysteriously healthy and normal, save for an entirely different definition of privacy.

Most people, teens and adults, are cautious about limiting access to their FB pages According to the Pew Internet and American Life project, both teens and adults actively manage their information online, with 60 percent of adults and 66 percent of teens,  restricting  access to information in their profile.

The generational divide isn’t that adult children don’t keep online lives private but it’s what they chose to share.  Another generational difference is that that many in Gen Y have hundreds of “friends,” including six new ones acquired at a party last night.

Why anyone share the dirty—and boring details—with hundreds of friends?  New York magazine writer Emily Nussbaum offered these insights in the “Say Everything” article:

The benefits are obvious: The public life is fun. It’s creative. It’s where their friends are. It’s theater, but it’s also community: In this linked, logged world, you have a place to think out loud and be listened to, to meet strangers and go deeper with friends.

Of course many, many baby boomers have embraced FB too. The fastest-growing FB user group is women 55 and over, up more than 175 percent since last fall.

While Baby Boomers on FB are connecting with old friends, exploring new hobbies, sharing photos with relatives,  and discussing various issues, few are flinging the doors wide open to reveal the intimacies of their lives.

It may be inevitable that the more comfortable Boomers become with “living online,” the more their own inhibitions will be shed.  Then the question may become whether to accept or—horrors, ignore—an adult child’s “friend” request.  TMI can go both ways.

How long do you support an adult child  in search of  work that fulfills a passion?

I ran into an acquaintance whose daughter graduated from college last spring with a theater/writing major.  The daughter has moved back home and is looking for work.  But she won’t settle for what she calls a “cubicle job.” The bright lights of Broadway beckon, and this young woman is going to auditions with her parents’ blessing. “We told her to get out there, go out to every casting call, and we’ll support her for however long it takes,” her mom said.

Undoubtedly the recession makes it tough for any new grad, even those with professional or business degrees, to get hired.  But the “arts”—writing, acting, dance, painting—have always been hard to break into and sustain a decent living.  So what do you tell your twentysomething grad armed with an arts degree and $20,000 in college loans?  Beyond financial support how long do you remain emotionally supportive of an adult child who wants to direct films or cast sculptures as a career?

The options you might present to your wanna-be can be categorized:

a)      Pursue your dream and live at home endlessly

b)      You’ve got a (week, six months, a year) then you’re on your own

c)      Get a job, any job, and pound the pavements in your spare time

d)       Figure it out alone; I’m moving to a condo

Of course, to a large extent, these options depend on your own circumstances and attitude.  Another friend has a son who wants to break into computer animation for films.  He graduated from college with internships and a degree in the field but couldn’t find a fulltime job.   His parents told him his only option was C: living at home, bartending on the weekends, freelancing and looking for work   And he’s still doing that  four years later.

That’s brings us to yet another difficult question. No matter what the choice, at what point do you urge an adult child to consider an alternative career? No easy answers here, and most likely there will be many ongoing, perhaps tearful, heated discussions before any decisions are reached.

If it’s any conciliation, my graduate classes often include students who tried other careers for five or so years (including acting, film-making, fiction writing, teaching English in Tibet) and finally decided to return to school to get additional skills.

Mothers are often blamed for not knowing when to let go and help children leave the nest.  What happens when adult children—specifically sons—leave physically but can’t detach emotionally?

 Details magazine considers the question “Are You Still A Mama’s Boy?”

 If you have your mother on speed dial and seek her opinion about all your dates, you have more in common with guys who sleep on Spider-Man sheets than you’d probably care to admit

The article acknowledges that “A mom who functions as a caretaker, financial adviser, champion, and friend all in one can be a huge bonus for a guy—especially one busy with work.”

 Obviously too much attachment is not a good thing, no matter how flattering it is to have a son (or daughter) constantly seek advice on everything from decorating to dates!  While the article deals tongue-in-cheek with “mama’s boys,” this issue of emotional attachment has developed as  area of academic study known as  “emerging adulthood.” Sociologists, psychologists and others have even started an association and held conferences to study the topic.   

So why do twentysomethings (and even some thirtysomethings) continue to cling to mom for advice?  Partly its symptomatic of delay in accepting the responsibilities of adulthood, according to psychology professor Jeffrey Arnett, author of  “Emerging Adulthood. ”

 In his book, Arnett outlines several reasons for this behavior:

• more time spent pursing college and graduate degrees
• the rise in the average age for marriage and children
• increased professional opportunities for women. 

 In the class I teach called “Covering GenY” we discuss the Arnett book.  Many of the students agree that the path to becoming full-fledged adults takes longer for the reasons Arnett outlines.  In addition, the recession will force many of them to move back home after graduations because of the dearth of well-paying jobs—or any job at all. And no job means they must still turn to the home front for money.  Hard to become independent when mom is still writing handing over the ATM card. They also admit that the “electronic tether” keeps them firmly attached even post college. The answer to “What should I do about (fill in the blank)” is just a text away.

 Quoted in the Detail articles, Arnett blames moms as much as sons for the continued hand holding.  It seems that the baby boomer parenting style— friends rather than authority figures—delays the maturity process.  Also fewer children means mom has more time to devote to each child  and is less likely to be willing to let go just because junior is celebrating his 30th birthday. 

 How can we even tell when are children can be truly certified as adults?  The hallmarks are three, writes Arnett:

•  Accept responsibility
• Make independent decisions
• Become financially independent

 However, adulthood doesn’t happen overnight. They changes occurs gradually and incrementally. And when those milestones are marked, maybe there’ll still be calls for decorating advice…from a daughter-in-law.