20SomethingMom chronicles of a young mom

Returning to The NestPosted by admin on April 12th, 2010

It’s the hush-hush topic of my generation: moving back in with your parents.

Nearly every person I know who graduated from college in the last 5 years has moved back home at some point. Sometimes, this is for personal reasons, but it’s most often for financial reasons.

After all, living with the ‘rents looks much better on paper than any apartment we could afford.

Mom’s & Dad’s: stocked pantry; laundry on-site; full cable package; one or more bedrooms furnished with comfort items from childhood; free parking; built-in babysitter, counselor, friend, etc…

If it weren’t for the sinking feeling — the lurking F for Failure — that accompanies this common living situation, we’d all be at our happiest in this mid-20s period of material fruitlessness. In a culture that propels us forward with nebulous promises and expectations, though, a move back home often requires a lengthy explanation. As degree-bearing, family-starting young people, we no longer have to endure the barrage of questions about what we will do with our lives at some indefinite point in the future; now, the questions focus on today, tomorrow, and next week.

Have you gotten a call about that job you applied for?

Did you get into grad school?

How much work do you have this week?

It can be even more uncomfortable answering these questions than dealing with an onslaught of unwanted advice.

Instead of feeling like we have to explain away our difficulties, we should consider that there is incredible freedom in having no plans. For once in our lives, we can forget about preparing for some day that will never come and just live. We don’t have to be moving forward (which way is forward?). Sometimes the best way to see clearly is to stand in one place for awhile, to observe rather than act. If that place is our parents’ house, we should consider ourselves lucky.

Financial lack is a powerful cultural force. All the lies inherent in our varying-degrees-of-privileged childhoods can now be unearthed as we reevaluate what we want in terms of identity and values. Things that have nothing to do with money are the hardest to create and maintain.

Will we live up to the expectations of economists and sociologists who label us the Recession Generation? Or will there be more to it than just safer fiscal behavior?

Living with Mom and Dad again gives us an opportunity to metamorphose the definition of the American family. Perhaps we won’t see it as necessary to push our own kids out of the house at some arbitrary age (18? after college?) and we will find a way to support them with more than just large bedrooms and free meals. After all, our parents’ eagerness to send us out into the “real world” was always driven by their wish to retire and reap the rewards of 30+ years of work. If we won’t have those same rewards — i.e. a robust 401(k) promising years of travel and relaxation — how will we view our relationship with our adult children? How can we use this time at home to shift our mindset, desires, and expectations?

I, for one, am hopeful that there will be a more permanent shift towards inclusion of the extended family in raising children, as exists in many non-Western cultures. Living with my mother sometimes presents challenges for me, but has been nothing short of a godsend for my son. He gets the structure of the parent-child relationship and the fun and trust of the grandparent-child relationship in one place.

Who’s to say that we need to check off young adult milestones in the traditional order if that’s going to make life more difficult for everyone? As long as there is mutual respect and we don’t take advantage of our parents, a cooperative household of more than two generations can be beneficial for everyone. The difficult part is learning to share life’s burdens. Sometimes, we simply can’t do it alone.

Technorati Tags: 20something, American culture, economy, grandparents, moving back home, parenting, recession generation

20Something DoubtPosted by admin on November 14th, 2009

Generation Y. We grew up with cassette tapes and VHS movies, Walkmans and LiteBrites. Now, we are the Facebookers and Tweeters, the perpetually connected. 

Many of us had few worries until recently. We got everything we ever needed, and most of what we wanted. Our parents turned their Clinton-era riches into our cars and college educations. 

So, why is every 20something I know severely depressed? 

Part of it is just the natural side effect of pulling away from those who kept us fed and clothed and happy. But Generation Yers have to deal with something unique: literally not being able to pull away. We can’t all afford to pay for our own apartments, cars, food, cell phones, and certainly not our own health insurance. Yet, we want to be able to. None of us wants to rely on our parents forever. Do we have a choice, though, in an era marked by the lowest relative wages since the 1970s and a steadily rising cost of living?

The “Great Recession” has contributed to the burgeoning ranks of unemployed and underemployed college graduates, but this problem was present before the real estate bubble burst. Young, educated people have met unprecedented problems in the job market since 2000. A decade ago, it was less clear that this was a symptom of nationwide financial sickness. Now, even though the reality of a fruitless job search is widespread, we still blame ourselves. That’s the American way, after all: to believe that we all have control over our economic circumstances. All that we’re getting from this attitude is a huge amount of guilt, and large piles of unpaid bills.

Our parents and grandparents could call it entitlement, could say that we expect too much and aren’t willing to work hard enough. These are the same people that brought us up to believe we would find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, if we just followed the rules.

We should all be concerned about more than attitudes when an entire generation is incapable of supporting itself. I have all the desire in the world to keep my son happy and healthy, but the fact remains that if either of us had a dire health emergency, I would not have the funds in place to keep us from sinking into a bog of medical debt. Even things as vital as food are driving a wedge between those who can afford them and those who can’t. It’s no longer true that you can simply invest some elbow grease and reap fair rewards, and we certainly can’t get ahead as quickly as our parents did.

While this exaggerated period of struggle is disproportionately affecting those of us who already have children, it is also defining the ability of the childless young people to ever create a stable home life. Economists have identified our generation as the first since the beginning of the 20th century that will not be better off than the previous, and who knows what that will mean for our children? If we can’t give them anything close to what we had, will they have even more challenges? Or will they be better able to face financial difficulties, and therefore well-adjusted?

There are exogenic cultural factors in the 20something, “I’m broke” dilemma. But on a personal level, no matter their origin, feelings of worthlessness can be devastating. If we push and push and never see results, we lose faith in ourselves and our belief systems. I only hope that my peers can find something worth living for when they have nothing to live on, and learn to distinguish between the things they can change and the things that happen to them.

Technorati Tags: 20something, college graduates, depression, economy, financial hardship, Generation Y, Great Recession, money, parenting, unemployment, wages

Absence Makes the Baby Grow CuterPosted by admin on September 28th, 2009

As a newly single mom, I don’t get too many hours away from my son.  I do everything from working to grocery shopping to showering with him by my side (more often, climbing on me).  Although the days are punctuated with plenty of kisses and exciting new vocabulary, my threshold for one-year-old gimmicks is significantly lower than it used to be.  On an average day, I am over it by 10 AM — after a few broken things, a leaking diaper or two, and at least half an hour of shrieking for no reason.

I have tried every method there is to entertain and exhaust my child, and calm myself.  We go on a daily run, ride trucks up and down the sidewalk, swim in the pool, and chase the dog.  Still, my sanity factor is directly proportional to the amount of time for which he closes his eyes in the afternoon and how much coffee I have been able to consume at the ideal temperature and with as little spillage as possible.  There is no better method for relaxing us both than leaving him in someone else’s care for a short time.

My parents have been great about recognizing when I’m about to explode and seizing the opportunity to bond with their grandson.  My dad has taken him to the beach and the park so that I can make progress on grad school applications, and my mom is here every day for bath time, bed time, and tantrum time.  I am struggling to strike a balance between allowing myself to go through the tough moments with no help and leaning too heavily on those who are willing to take over.  

Any parent will tell you how important it is to establish boundaries and create a healthy, respectful relationship with your toddler.  I need to experience it all and have the space to follow my instincts.  There are frequent moments, though, when I wonder if my lack of patience erases that possibility and if it may be better for both of us if someone with a greater patience supply steps in.  Grandparents certainly have an abundance of patience with their grandchildren, if not sympathy for their children.   

The most astounding thing about leaving my son for awhile is how instantaneous the stress relief can be, and how quickly the stress can return.  Parenting is often about swinging from one extreme to another: overwhelming love to impossible frustration.  When I escape (go to Starbucks) for a couple hours, I miss my baby and wonder what he’s doing every second.  Then, I come home and get a great big hug followed by a leech-like creature stuck to my legs…and I start looking forward to my next break.

I’m interested to see how these feelings evolve over time as my son and our relationship mature.  I know that you never stop being a parent, worrying like a parent, but physical separation has to be different in the early years.  I have spent so few days away from my son in 21 months (plus the 8 months of pregnancy) that it’s like ripping off a Band-Aid every time I leave him.  It hurts, I have to do it quickly or risk bursting into tears, and I get to cover my wound again when I have him back in my arms.

Technorati Tags: baby, motherhood, parenting, separation anxiety, single parent, toddler

Having Children: Is It Really a Choice?Posted by admin on July 7th, 2009

In my exploration of the blogosphere this afternoon, I came across an interesting site: The Childless by Choice Project.  By “interesting,” I mean unbelievable.  While I find the research presented on this site to be worthwhile — it explores the motives behind remaining childless — it is not convincing in its numbers or survey methods.  Nearly every person mentioned on this site and the accompanying blog is 30 or over and, in general, selfish.

My husband and I have pondered this issue together numerous times.  Thankfully, we agree that not wanting to have children is virtually ignoring the duties of membership in the human race.  We want to have a lot of kids because it feels right, regardless of whether they are convenient or affordable additions to our lives.

I have heard the argument before that it’s actually parents who are selfish; they want to produce beings who will worship them and love them unconditionally.  My response to that is: do you worship YOUR parents?   A child’s love is most definitely conditional.  Maybe we don’t realize until we become adults that our parents are not infallible, but surely we don’t always love them without limits.  If they provide for us as we think they should, we love them.  If they don’t, especially because they have abandoned us or committed any other heinous emotional or physical crimes, we don’t love them as much or at all.

Another point of contention for me is the suggestion that people should arbitrarily limit the amount of kids they have or choose not to have any because an excessive birth rate kills the planet even more quickly.  Trying to corroborate your belief with a haughty stance on environmental protection is just a dumb excuse.  Maybe if we all found ways to use fewer of the earth’s resources, we wouldn’t have to worry about the strain that overpopulation places on rainforests and polar bears.

I deem the view that parenthood is a choice, and a potentially ruinous one, to be a deleterious symptom of our individualistic culture.   When your life is all about going out to fancy dinners, shopping, leaving on spontaneous weekend getaways, and hanging out with your cat, of course parenting will throw more than a few kinks into it.

Get over it.  Either have kids when you’re young enough to handle it without whining about the life that you could have had, or go along your childless path without defending it so fervently.

The childless and vocal engender another battle in the procreation war by trying to drag their (supposedly miserable) parent friends out on the town, leading them to believe that it is acceptable, even normal, to continue engaging in a lifestyle which they left behind the moment the stick turned blue.  This mentality leaks into the world of parents with young children, and they begin wishing the years away before their progeny enter kindergarten.  Instead of relishing the days, they can’t wait to get rid of the carseats and bottles.  Kids and teenagers can feel it when their parents just want them out of the house, when they push them too roughly into independence and, ironically, create such dependence that they end up with college graduates under their roof later.  It is disgusting that the prevalent sense that children just get in the way, or that they are projects to be molded and then bragged about, affects both parents and non-parents alike.

The future of humanity requires that we reproduce, and to me, that’s the primary reason we should want to.  There are plenty of emotional benefits, and downsides, to being a parent, but none of them negates biological instinct.  Most of those arguments for or against becoming a parent are actually products of our time, and we should not be so short-sighted as to consider them law.

 Loading ...

Technorati Tags: birth, childless, children, environment, family, old parents, parenting, population, reproduction, young parents

America’s Exceptional IndependencePosted by admin on July 6th, 2009

Certain occasions, including the 4th of July, offer us pause, a moment (or a whole hotdog-bingeing day) to consider the historical context for our celebration.  Beyond a fireworks-induced pride, though, few of us feel staunch emotion over the long summer weekend that seems, 200+ years post-independence, to have been made for lovers of flag cakes.

Having studied and written my thesis on American exceptionalism, I think I am more conflicted than most.  I still feel like I did the day that I landed back on U.S. soil after studying in Italy for three months: unsure of what my American identity means.  While abroad, I discovered that I felt a certain security in having an American accent and presenting myself as a product of America’s revered educational system.  My Asian and European peers expressed a fascination about U.S. culture that baffled me, but also instilled in me an awkward smugness.  I expected to be shamed as an unwilling representative of the Bush years, but instead I made quick friends and was told I wasn’t like the other (party-hardy) American kids.   So, if I wasn’t like them, did it mean something different for me to identify with my nationality?

I am now wholly appreciative of that seed of internal conflict because it launched me into a research project that required as much introspection as library time.  I unearthed the uncanny coexistence of good and evil in America’s record on human rights at the same time that I fought with my own desire to belong to a people, a government, with which I didn’t always agree.  One hundred pages and two years later, I still have the same questions.  To me, that’s a blessing, for it will hopefully propel me into a satisfying career as an ever-curious academic.  It is less clear how this plays into my life as a wife and mother.

To immigrants like my in-laws, the American flag symbolizes something much more layered than it ever will to me.  I have no other way to identify myself than as American; I am not directly connected to my ancestral culture and only know where half my family came from.  Liberal democracy is the status quo for me.  For those who can compare our freedoms to the lack thereof in an anecdotal way, America truly is the beacon of liberty it claims to be.  Those of us who do not have that point of reference seem to be more apt to critically appraise life and politics in this exceptional country.  From an academic standpoint, that is what we should do.  We are the governing body, according to the philosophical beating heart of American civic life, and have responsibilities along with rights.

Yet, that is not what I felt in the pit of my stomach when I stood in an anonymous crowd at Saturday night’s Shindig on the Green.  Holding my son on my hip as he gawked at his first fireworks show, the part of me that is hooked on tradition rose up and erased the guilt, the critical student of political science.  It was like American exceptionalism was once again showing me the other side of its face, the side of which I had first caught a glimpse amongst my international friends.  I am sure everyone around me felt it, too.

Whether it is something in the air, water, or fireworks, none of us knows.  Americans are individuals with radically varied experiences and opinions, but all that seems to matter is that we can stand side by side and sing along to patriotic songs (albeit drunkenly) without factionalizing our differences.  There are moments when we put all political passions and social causes aside and just stand together, and that is something that doesn’t happen consistently in any other place on earth.

It is that ability to blindfold ourselves that can sneak around the corner and surprise us with its capacity for malevolence.

We have to make a conscious decision to define what it is to be American for our children.  Will we do that by handing them sparklers and clothing them in red, white, and blue or by thoroughly informing them of America’s precarious role in the world and how they fit into it?  Can we achieve both?

Technorati Tags: 4th of July, America, American exceptionalism, American identity, Asheville, culture, family, Independence Day, patriotism, Politics, Shindig on the Green, tradition

TV and AcculturationPosted by admin on June 29th, 2009

It is high on the list of decisions we parents must make every day, right next to when and what to feed our kids, which books to read with them, when the mess becomes too big, and how long to let them linger in the bathtub: whether or not to allow them to stare at the good old boob tube.

I’ll admit that we watch a lot of TV in my house.  Between our morning dose of political news, frequent lazy afternoons spent watching HGTV, and my husband’s beloved Cubs games, our son’s exposure far exceeds the recommended amount of ZERO hours for his age group.  It can no doubt become a habit, providing chatter to fill the silence.  Often, the noise of the TV becomes the soundtrack for all our other activities, even those that we prefer to do in silence, like reading.  But, I wonder: are we prompting a future attention “disorder,” creating missing links in our baby’s brain?  Or are we doing him a service by establishing a habit of worldly exposure and a tool for critical culture analysis?

While I believe my husband when he emphatically (and frequently) tells me that multitasking only provides an illusion of productivity, I also think there is value in having the capacity to process many different types of information at once.  For that is what we have to do in order to keep up our buzzing, 24/7 way of life.  Consider TV, cell phones, computers, and breaking news to be evil if you prefer, but they are all necessary in order to fully function in Western society.

In a recent volume of The Sun magazine, there was an article on the way that life in the era of Google has changed our brains.  It is a debate amongst psychologists and techies alike: are we losing the ability to, for example, read an entire article without losing interest?  If so, is this inherently bad?  Have websites flanked with enticing ads, easy access to search results, and the ability to open multiple browser tabs actually made us higher-functioning?

Neither side of the brain-centered argument is our everyday justification for indulging in pop culture with a side of CNN, though.  Most of us probably have a much more mundane answer for why we spend our evenings with TiVO.  We want to be entertained.  We want to laugh, cry, and be reminded that the world is greater than our living rooms.  Sure, today’s programming is littered with unrealistic portrayals of reality, but it also contains plenty of human-interest stories and unique views into parts of the world to which we would never have access if not for the ubiquity of cable.  It may be in a different form than it was in other periods in history, but this type of connection — think Planet Earth and CBS News Sunday Morning — is no less important than community meetings and village bonfires used to be.

This week’s rash of celebrity deaths and the accompanying documentaries on some of our culture’s most esteemed figures have brought me an opportunity to reflect upon my level of cultural participation.  I watched a good amount of TV growing up, listened to pop music, and read trashy fashion magazines.  I don’t see myself as ruined because of these things.  On the contrary, I am proud to be part of the crowd of people mourning the loss of the moonwalking mogul because of the positive associations I have with nearly every one of his songs.

Maybe I was insulated from the detritis because I always had a book in front of my face blocking out some of the toxic images.  Maybe I was not insulated and I’m completely delusional in evaluating my own level of ruin.  Maybe it’s not detritis at all.

All I know is: I don’t want my kids to be cut off from our world, for all its good and its bad, because of some conservative adherence to the tenets of a simpler time.  I won’t feign innocence if I am someday accused of teaching my son to work my desktop tablet and play the Wii at much too young an age, but I doubt that these are truly the meat ‘n’ potatoes of raising a well-rounded child.

And there’s this:  Researchers at Harvard and Children’s Hospital in Boston recently found that TV is neither beneficial nor harmful to a baby’s cognitive development.  It has only been concluded that TV gets in the way of meaningful conversation and other bonding activities that could be going on in its place.  (Duh?)

As with any mechanized entertainment, TV requires an ongoing judgment call on the part of parents.  I am okay with my son pointing and squealing every time there’s a dog on TV, as long as he goes right back to reading Brown Bear, Brown Bear when the dog disappears.

Technorati Tags: babies, children, culture, Google, Michael Jackson, parenting, pop culture, technology, television and kids, TV

The Family Dynamic of MoneyPosted by admin on June 11th, 2009

It’s the buzzword of the year: “economy.”  Money, finances, credit.  The scary facts of life.  As Americans, we implicitly learn that money makes the world go ’round.  Whatever class we belong to, we recognize class division for what it is: the socially acceptable antithesis of everything that America symbolizes.  Yet, we choose to be led by staunch supporters of the free market, believers in the myth that hard work is all you need.

We all know this isn’t true, though some of us would rather not admit that.  Hard work cannot buy you inheritance, familial networking, or multiple vacation homes, except in the rare instances when luck is involved.  In this economic climate, hard work amounts to a greater potential for disappointment, and month after month of prioritizing payments just to stay afloat.

I was raised to understand the importance of saving money.  My brother and I earned $10-20 per week (it increased with age, or as we argued, the value of our labor).  Half of it was spending money.  The other half had to be split between short-term and long-term savings.  I had my labeled cookie jars in the closet, and always looked forward to buying great Christmas presents at the end of the year with the long-term pot.  Quarterly, I extracted my small chunk of change to buy a CD or a new pair of jeans.  It worked swimmingly well for me.  My brother, however, inevitably ended up with slim pickings at the end of each term — he borrowed from himself along the way and never paid it back.  Because we preferred different lifestyles, though, neither of us regretted our decisions.  And, we would both give the shirts off our backs for anyone in need, which is also a result of watching our parents give umbrellas to people waiting at bus stops in the rain.

This is more than just our personalities in a nutshell; it is an example of money management free of all market forces except consumption and the desire thereof.  We were insulated from economic fluctuations, our paychecks were regular, and we had no dependents (save the occasional hampster).

Fast forward a decade, and both of us are in the midst of a period of grand revelations about all things money-related.  Though he has only his own mouth to feed, his sense of adventure and more-than-occasional stroke of misfortune steer him toward financial disaster over and over again.  But, he’s happy and well-adjusted no matter the contents of his pantry.  I, on the other hand, have to worry about the dreaded monthly bills, diaper refills, and discretionary spending that come about when one is trying to build a happy home.  I am one part my mother, allowing myself a weekly splurge (read: soy latte), and one part my father, feeling guilty for not having put that $4 in my cookie jar.

What we are all learning now, though, is that we cannot place our faith in a medium that exists purely on the basis of faith.  Ironically, stashing away money for a rainy day provides little peace of mind.  Americans are spiraling out of control, precisely because we have no control, over the powers that rule our retirement savings, property investments, and mountainous debts.

So, who’s to say that there is one right way to allocate funds in a household?  I remain convinced that my husband and I are far happier, as individuals, a couple, and parents, because we do not fret about taking our son out for ice cream or going to the bookstore (our weakness) once a month.  We consistently verbalize our gratitude for the fact that we don’t care about having the four-bedroom house, the mini-van, the illusion of a secure future.  Sure, we dream big, but our dreams come true in tiny bouts throughout the years of living in one-bedroom apartments.  If the day comes when we do have plenty of money to spend, I will be glad that I appreciate its comforts.

Living in the moment does not mean being irresponsible, but recognizing that responsibility is not the only virtue.

Technorati Tags: America, bills, capitalism, control, credit, dreams, economy, faith, family, finances, financial, free market, household, job, money, money management, responsibility, savings, siblings, work

Bilingual as a Baby? I Wish!Posted by admin on June 7th, 2009

Often, a long phone conversation with a family member or friend is the best part of my day, because I get to speak English.  After speaking nothing but Spanish all day long with my little one (with a few exceptions, including when I’m too angry or frustrated to come up with a Spanish equivalent for what I need to say), I am usually more mentally exhausted than I like to admit.  I am jealous when I see how easy it is for my son to acquire new words, to understand commands and questions in two languages.  I also envy my husband, who spoke Spanish at home and learned English in school.  For me, bilingualism is a priority that I work to maintain every day — otherwise, it slips away.

It took about seven years of grammar-centric Spanish classes and several more years of exposure for me to truly call myself fluent.  In the interim, I traveled to Italy and replaced my Spanish with Italian, much of which I proceeded to forget due to a lack of opportunities to practice it in the U.S.   Thus, I’ve had a varied experience with language learning, a combination of formal schooling and immersion, which has allowed me to realize the fluidity of the brain in its use and acquisition of a second (or third) language.

Sometimes, the concentration just isn’t there and I fail miserably at communicating with my in-laws.  Other times, I’m completely relaxed and find myself using words that I didn’t know sat idly in my word bank.  There isn’t a day that passes in which I don’t ask my husband how to say a particular word in Spanish or why he says it one way when I learned something completely different.  The combination of dialects that exist in the Spanish-speaking world fascinates me.  While it can cause misunderstanding and even pure confusion, it is an exercise in real-world application that is incomparable to any other.

Along with simply knowing what a struggle it can be to learn languages later in life, I want my child(ren) to witness the subtleties of human communication and have the capacity to view the world through two or more lenses.  When you know several words for one concept, your world is less concrete and you tend to question the accepted reality.  In my eyes, this is a gift, and I am lucky to have a chance to bestow it upon a person I love.

On days when Spanish doesn’t come pouring out of me easily, I remind myself that my child does not judge the grammatical correctness of my sentences, the authenticity of my accent, or the origin of my vocabulary.  Who knows what his language capacity or preference will be?  And, in the end, it matters little.  I am happy to share in his exploration of the world in whatever language he chooses to mimic.

I would love to hear others’ experiences with or thoughts on the journey of multilingualism.

Technorati Tags: bilingual toddler, bilingualism, brain, dialects, English, grammar, Italian, Italy, language acquisition, languages, multilingualism, parenting, raising children, Spanish