“Everything Old Is New Again”

That Peter Allen song resonates with surprising frequency in the digital 21st century. Most recently because of a Forbes magazine article, “Why Millennial Women Are Burning Out At Work By 30.”

About a decade ago, I wrote a book, with co-author Loretta Kaufman, about mid-30-something moms who left demanding careers to stay at home.  We kept in touch with the women interviewed for “And What Do You Do?” and found that besides raising children they were volunteering, going back to school and considering new careers. So we wrote “Going Back to Work” which looked at how 40-something women fashioned balanced home-work lifestyles.

So it’s not surprising a decade later that everything old is new again and that fast-track careers are still stressing women. But the big difference in 2011 is that these women are under 30, without children, aging parents or households to run! In one way it’s not surprising that they are frazzled: Many have been working at warp speed since middle school developing a “passion” to put on a college application, excelling in college, doing a half-dozen internships and then (until the recession hit) jumping into demanding careers.

In the Forbes article on the under-30 burnout, reporter Larissa Faw notes several possible explanations: exhaustion from fast tracking, lack of career planning beyond their first job, and most interesting, unrealistic expectations about full-time employment. Yes, that first job can be a harsh reality check, even for young adults who excelled at internships. Faw quotes Kelly Cutrone, owner of well-known PR firm and author of “If You Have to Cry, Go Outside” about the often difficult transition:

“College is nothing more than a baby-sitting service. These students are totally unprepared for the real world…No one will say thank you. You will eat lunch at 5 p.m. It sucks and it’s hard work.”

With more than 250,000 views, the column struck a chord with many readers. In a follow-up post,  Faw wrote about readers’ reactions to the causes of the alleged burnout:

Some attribute it to the high expectations placed on them by their parents, unrealistic expectations brought on by an entitled generation, and general culture shifts. Others have less sympathy, describing these women as whiners.

So parents are blamed, again, for raising spoiled, narcissistic young adults. Despite the complaints though, it’s unlikely that any of them are quitting. So what do we tell our daughters—and sons too—who after snaring those long-sought jobs are overwhelmed by the reality of work. Perhaps suggest that they find some balance; find time to follow those well-honed passions, even if they’re not at work. Join a theater group, train for a triathlon, volunteer with a social agency, plan (and save) for a trip to an offbeat location, go back to school at night to pursue a hobby or get a new career credential, write a novel or a dozen other myriad ideas. A job doesn’t have to define them 24/7. And pace themselves: It’s marathon, not a sprint.

It’s a familiar scenario: a name starts popping up in talks and texts with your adult son or daughter.  A romance is brewing!  One day you meet the beloved person and while you are happy for your child something is not quite right.  Times passes and the uneasy feelings remain.  It’s not that you don’t like the boyfriend or girlfriend. Rather there seems to be a mismatch: in personality, emotional attachment, life experience, careers, expectations, behavior, or any number of different traits.

What do you do?  You can wait it out and hope that your son or daughter discovers  the incompatibility.  What if your daughter comes home with Brides magazine or your son starts asking about diamonds? What do you say then?  Suppose your 25-year-old daughter is madly in love with a creative type who can’t find a job. That 25-year-old related her sad tale in a “An Oral History of Breaking Up,” a New York Times article about why young people divorce.  Her marriage lasted a year.  Perhaps her mom should have suggested her daughter check out one of the many websites on questions to ask before committing to  marriage.   

In search of advice we turned, again, to the very wise and witty Dr. Ruth Nemzoff, author of “Don’t Bite Your Tongue.” She has  encountered many such situations in her work and writes about them in her book. We chatted on the phone last week.

Q. If parents believe that their adult child is considering a match not made in heaven, should they say anything?

A. Yes, if it’s before marriage and you feel it’s a bad match then you have an obligation to say something.  Once married though you have an obligation to love this person your child chooses and to not say anything else.  First you need to examine exactly why do you not like this person.  Is the reason because no one is good enough for your child?

Q. How do you approach the topic with your adult child?

A. You don’t want to start head on.  You want to talk about an observation such as, “I notice when Jeff  is around you’re very quiet” or “I notice you no longer go out with friends.” You need be very specific in how you phrase that observation.

Q. Suppose it’s not so much your child changing but rather a negative trait you see in the boyfriend or girlfriend?

A. Another way is to try to find an example of the same trait in a book or a movie. Get the book, read it and then mention to your daughter that you just read a book about a man, for example,  who was a “taker,” someone never gives back, just takes and takes what he needs in a relationship. You’ll plant the idea if that’s the situation.  Or watch a movie together and make an observation about a character.  I call that simulcasting: watching a movie  with your child and getting a message across through your comments on the characters in the movie.

Q. Suppose you suspect that your child shares your concerns but hasn’t voiced them.

A. Start a conversation with your child, saying that you notice she is spending a lot of time with so-and-so. Ask what she likes about him.  Then mention your concerns and ask if she noticed that too. Keep in mind the child may storm out of the room. These conversations don’t always go smoothly but it’s not end of the world, and not the first time or the last time that’ll happen.

Q. When is the best time to have this conversation?

A. The timing is when you begin to feel relationship is getting serious but even then be careful not to cast aspersions.  That person may become your daughter-in-law and be choosing your nursing home someday!   Also keep in mind you never know about people. There are relationships that friends and relatives predicted would fail that are now celebrating anniversaries.

In-laws.  Just saying the word invokes jokes. Beyond nasty humor, in-laws issues have generated a cottage industry.  Books with telling titles such as “Toxic In-Laws” and “What Do You Want from Me?” Movies including the hilarious  “Meet the Parents” and “The Birdcage.” Websites ranging from  How to Meet the In-Laws to  I Hate my In-laws.  Even academic studies: “Implications Of Mother-In-Laws’ Perceived Styles Of Relating.” (Yes,  that’s academic-speak!)

While those intergenerational in-law connections get attention, there’s another relationship that’s widely ignored yet is critical to family harmony: the relationship with your adult child’s in-laws.  We don’t even have a name for that connection in English. What do you call your daughter- or son-in-law’s parents? Those people?   Seriously, co-laws? In Yiddish, the word is “machatunim” and in Spanish “consuegros,” but  there’s no English translation.

Whatever the name, when your children get engaged they bring a raft of new people into the family. They may live in the same town or halfway around the world.  The first extended interaction is usually the wedding: Who pays for what? How many guests? What kind of ceremony and reception? The chill or the warmth of the big day often sets the tone and determines whether the machatunim become an intimate part of the extended family or casual acquaintances or simply names on the holiday card list.

Friend or foe, the machatunim can have a ripple–sometimes tidal wave–effect on your relationship with your child’s spouse as well as grandchildren.  So how to get off to a good start?  Mothering21 called on an expert  who knows the topic well,  Dr. Ruth Nemzoff, author of “Don’t Bite Your Tongue.”    The mother of four adult children and a resident scholar at the Brandeis Women’s Studies Research Center, Dr. Nemzoff often speaks on intergenerational family relations.  We chatted with her on the phone earlier this month.

Q. Why do you think we don’t have a word in English for “co-in-laws”?

A. It’s emblematic of the relationship. In America it’s unclear exactly what the relationship is because it varies so much.  Maybe you meet for the first time at the wedding and the next time is at the grandkid’s high school graduation. Then there are those people who expect to have relationship and become friends and you go on vacation together. It reflects our multi-cultural society.

Q. Parents often have preconceived notions before they even meet the other side. How do you handle that first meeting?

A. Start with the assumption that these parents raised someone your kid loves so they must have some good qualities. Try to figure out what they are and focus on those good qualities. Also, there are a million ways to live a life. Why people have chosen the lives they do is often very interesting.  Be curious—in a positive way—about their background.  Share your background too. Use all the social skills you use in other parts of your life.

Q. You’re working on a new book about in-laws because the relationship is so complicated.  What have you found are some of the key sticking points?

A. Many times there’s the expectation that this new family will do things the same way as our family.  Forget it! No two families do things in the exact same way.  There’s also often a dark side to the relationship that may be caused by money. One spouse comes from a wealthy family who takes them on trips to Aruba with all expenses paid and the most the other family can afford is a walk in the park.  Competition can develop over grandchildren: They live close and we are far away. They can give big gifts and we can’t afford to do that.

Q. How do you suggest parents handle those tensions?

A. There’s a saying used by runners: Run your own race; the same in these situations.   A walk in the park can be equally as wonderful as trip to Aruba, particularly for grandchildren.  What matters the most to them is attention. Doing a coloring book together is what’s important, not that you’re doing it in Aruba.

Q. Adapting to this new extended family often means changes in decades-long way of doing things—holiday traditions, celebrating birthdays, when and where we vacation. How do you handle that?

A. One hard thing for parents is sharing.  We told our kids to share as they were growing up. Now it’s our turn to share and that means sharing the holidays and other events.  People are endlessly creative. Develop new traditions.  You can have Thanksgiving on a Saturday or trim the tree on a weeknight.  Just don’t leave an empty space at the holiday table and feel sorry for yourself. You can mourn the change but then move on.  It’s like “The king is dead long. Long live the king.”

Q. On a positive note, how can parents be  good in-laws?

A. Before imposing on them, try asking the young couple, “What would be useful to you?” You might think trip to Aruba is wonderful and they’re thinking, “I have one week of vacation and I don’t want to waste it on the in-laws.”   Maybe they rather have the money to buy a couch.

Appreciate whatever is given by them in terms of time and togetherness and don’t keep asking for more.  Realize that the kids have jobs and their own friends and that are doing best they can. Just be appreciative.

Parents get angry at adult children; adult children get angry at parents.  Sometimes parents and children don’t talk for days or weeks or even months.  Usually the ice breaks and the two sides reconcile.  But what happens when the anger festers into a full-fledged estrangement and the adult children completely cut off communication with their parents? That was the focus of  “When the Ties that Bind Unravel,”  a recent New York Times “Well” column by Tara Parker-Pope.  The traditional focus–in the therapist’s office, novels, films, blogs and online forums—has been on adult children complaining about the perceived misdeeds of parents. 

Now the spotlight has shifted somewhat to the angst of parents who have lost contact with their adult children.  Sometimes parents know what damage they have allegedly done, having been told quite explicitly by their children.  Other times parents are clueless, left with vague or no explanations. The result, Ms Parker-Pope writes:

Some parents seek grief counseling, while others fall into depression and even contemplate suicide.

Joshua Coleman, a San Francisco psychologist who is an expert on parental estrangement, says it appears to be growing more and more common, even in families who haven’t experienced obvious cruelty or traumas like abuse and addiction. Instead, parents often report that a once-close relationship has deteriorated after a conflict over money, a boyfriend or built-up resentments about a parent’s divorce or remarriage.

We all know families—maybe even our own–where estrangement has occurred so the topic was familiar.  What is surprising are the more than 1,100 comments the piece elicited, ranging from “sometimes the kids are evil” to parents blamed for mental and physical abuse. The rage is almost palatable, especially in comments from adult children, many self-assured in their decision to banish parents from their lives.

There’s a lot of anger and blame to go around, and there are no easy answers.  However, several posts struck a chord as possible approaches to reconciliation. One adult child wrote:

And I agree with the unspoken implication here, which is that our culture unfairly weighs the child’s injuries over the parents’ efforts. There are some truly damaging parents out there. But for those of us whose parents don’t fall in that category . . . Maybe it’s time we all sat down and [had] a good think about the things our parents did right.

And then called them and told them about it.

Dr. Coleman recommends that parents take the high road and never give up, continuing to call, email and to send cards and birthday and holiday presents even if they are refused. A post from one mother showed the wisdom of that approach.  The mother continued to try to communicate with a daughter who had stopped all contact from age 17 to two years post college, the fallout from a divorce and other unspecified issues. Then fate intervened, as the mother writes:

 One day on an afternoon walk around the running track at the Central Park Reservoir the wildest, weirdest thing ever happened… we ran into each other. What are the odds? Happy is too pale a word to describe the relief, ecstatic joy and endearing words we exchanged. I have an inkling how Lazarus felt.
We’re now in regular contact. Lots of words have passed. Explanations. Recriminations. Reasons. Stories. A little miracle. ..

 The mother’s advice:

 Parents: Do what you can to understand the situation and make things right. Let respect guide your path. Let go of whatever anger you may feel. [Difficult, but not impossible.] Never EVER give up.
Children: Cut your padres some slack. They won’t be around forever.

 Wise words: everyone has to give in, sometimes a little, often a lot but usually the parents more so than the kids.

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 new 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 remarkably open about our “intentions.” I inform him that 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 marriage isn’t on his radar screen yet – or maybe, ever.

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 can tell that you like me… so watch while I totally change your mind about EVERYTHING.”

Wrong.

Bad timing isn’t the only strike against us. Bill and I discover we have some differences in values – subtle differences, but in key areas, like about raising children. Probably because of our own very different upbringings.  My parents see Bill’s skittishness about “putting a ring on it” as a sign of insincerity, which it isn’t, and castigate me nonstop about wasting my fecund years with him.  Bill’s family – top-heavy with high-profile shrinks and multiple divorces – isn’t keen on me, either. Though they’re Jewish, they’ve pegged me -because I’m a daughter of Holocaust survivors and relatively observant – 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, abruptly, everything changes.

In his apartment (he’s in the library, studying), I spot a letter addressed to Bill from his grandfather, a much-married, 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 confided in Grandpapa that he truly cares for me but is unhappy about our seldom-resolved arguments, interspersed with my marriage ultimatums. Grandpapa cautions Bill about their family’s poor track record. “What on earth could the two of you be thinking?” he writes in a shaky script. “Like the shoe-seller tries to convince the customer: ‘Go on,  just BUY the hurting shoes, and they will stop hurting!’”

The metaphor hits its mark like a laser. Reading these words, 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 move of all would be “buying” what didn’t quite fit from the get-go, or believing that marriage somehow magically enables two people  – even decent, well-intentioned people – to generate sufficient light and heat to override their incompatibilities. I know now that I will never let this happen.

Brandishing the letter, I run through Washington Square in the rain. Right there, inside 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 – 28 and counting – while of course not perfect, are pretty darn good.  And recently, “Won’t-You-Marry-Me-Bill” friended me on Facebook. Happily, he too has done quite 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, from 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.