Letters to Zoe

        The millennial generation has been the hardest hit by the recession. We are also the most optimistic about our future economic prospects. According to the Pew Research Center, about nine-in-ten either say that “they currently have enough money or that they will eventually meet their long-term financial goals.” This, despite the fact that “fully 37% of 18- to 29-year-olds are unemployed or out of the workforce, the highest share among this age group in more than three decades”.

                 Our generation has not arrived at this optimism unassisted. As part of the 10 to 29 year-old millennial age bracket, my parents inculcated me with the idea that the world was “my oyster” and that whatever elusive, non-existent path I wanted to raze through the jungle of commercial real estate, they were not only in support of it, but the more creative and far-flung it was, the better.  I thought I was destined for success.

       Upon approaching graduation, I was shocked to find no entry-level positions for my creative liberal arts education.  At a disparaging career session for seniors, I asked the question “What jobs are there for English majors?”  The woman who led the session looked at me like I was severely lost in the employment wasteland that had beset college seniors.  She pointed to the screen on which were listed a myriad of confusing titles. “Well, it sounds like copywriting could be your fit. Would you like to write advertisements for Kleenex?”

No, I would not like to write advertisements for Kleenex.

“Do you have a portfolio with samples of advertising work, or a double major in business?”

No, I had no experience in business. Could I be a journalist?

“Journalism is…not a great career right now.”

She looked at me like I had just bombed an interview and was unqualified to enter the meat market of life, “Well, I don’t know then”, she sighed. “How about looking into teaching?”

 I am not alone in my optimism that a job should provide meaning and fulfillment. The Pew Research Center describes millenials as “confident” and “upbeat” in our approach to life, and many millenials seek jobs with the goal of “changing the world” or experiencing personal fulfillment (Pew Research).

The luxury of my middle-class generation has been just this: we have gotten exactly what we wanted, when we wanted it. But is it such a surprise that we feel entitled to jobs? We have been told all our lives that we are special, that the opportunities in America are endless, and that we are the solution to the world’s problems of  poverty, disease, and malaise. Our parents have let us pursue our creative passions, often insinuating that we could be the next “great” dancer, the next star football player or writer.

 

And we believed them.  We believed them because we were being carried by their tide of economic success, and it seemed like the wave would never end.  Now that the housing boom has ended and the generation before us has been left to downsize, buoying in an ocean of insecurity, we are left to pack up our dorm rooms and hope that someone--anyone-- will hire us.

Fortunately for many of us, disillusionment has actually become the catalyst for finally growing up.  Many of the class of 2010 that I graduated with are sunk in school loans, pursuing jobs like gold-smelting, painting or other odds-and-ends. These jobs are often less-than-what-we-hoped-for, with long hours doing what is not the right fit.  Even though you might find us bemoaning our jobs, wondering if we will ever get to do something that we like, you will also find us hunkered down, doing the best we can to be the best we can. Despite the  criticism that we get for being a spoiled generation, entering the work force with a sense of entitlement,you might just want to give us a second chance.

If you do, I think you will find that this economy has changed us. That, though we enter the workforce with a slightly annoying enthusiasm, we are also learning a lot about being adults. We now know that life is not about getting everything we want, and that saving for material things instead of buying them on credit is better. The value of our families and friends has not diminished, even as the value of the stock market has plunged.

Perhaps we aren’t the next creative geniuses, the next famous dancers or entrepreneurs, but we are certainly no longer disillusioned, and we are more than ready to do our part. Though you might find us living in your basement again, (About one-in-eight older Millennials say they've "boomeranged" back to a parent's home because of the recession.) we’ll be the first to quickly claim that this is temporary: after all, we’re no longer kids, right?

 

 

 

Having a baby is ridiculously hard. Ridiculously. It's been a long time since I last posted on Zoe, but incredibly, she has kept growing like a bean-stalk and is now 15 months-old. Sometimes I can't believe we've made it this far. Many days, I question my own sanity and spend the day quietly screaming inside. My husband comes home and the first thing he hears is me saying "What am I doing wrong?!" (followed by sobbing, and not the quiet kind). When Zoe throws a tantrum 7 times a day, I fantasize about throwing a tantrum right back at her. Now, wouldn't that be entertaining?

I hate admitting this. I hate repeating what all mothers tell you, that they are "going crazy." It drives me nuts when people aren't at the same stage of parenting (either too old, too young, no kids) and think that they understand, or offer advice (although I will say, I could probably use some advice, if I could let down my pride). The problem is, there is absolutely nothing unique about my despondency, my monotonous day, and my emotional afternoons. They are absolutely uninteresting and uninspiring.

And maybe that is why, over the course of these last few months, I have been on a desperate mission to not be uninteresting and uninspiring. My secret is, I am terrified of being a nobody, a nothing, a stay-at-home mom who makes macaroni and cheese and does laundry all day. The problem is, I am that mom, in all of her sweat-pant glory. 

Oh how the prideful have fallen, and by that, I mean me. I had such great aspirations. I had places to be and people to meet. Now, I am the mom at the mall, toting her toddler covered in ketchup (both of us), contemplating whether to purchase a cheesy picture with Santa ($17.99? I don't think so! Zoe doesn't even know who Santa is).

Yesterday, my husband told me to embrace this. To choose to enjoy mom-hood. He knows that I love Zoe with all my heart and that I am choosing this. However, I would really like to dispel a rumor that is out there (for all you potential egg-carriers) that those 30-seconds where your toddler looks up at you and says "ma-ma" or gives you a gooey wet kiss, are worth all the other tantrums, screaming and sleepless nights. This is simply a ruse to make you have ooey-gooey feelings about parenting (and get you off birth control). The truth is, those 'moments' absolutely do not make it worth it. They are fleeting. They are 1.5 seconds in my 24-7 hour a day, food-stuck in hair, no-shower life.

The real truth is: you are not a good enough person to be a mom. Your husband is not a good enough person to be a dad. Face it, you already knew this. The truth is, I am pretty darn terrible at momhood most days. I would not hire me for this job. 
In the same way, Zoe does not really make up for her many tantrums with her (rare) kisses or eyelash flutters. I would not hire her to be the perfect child.
 
Just like a marriage, where the bedroom does not make up for fighting or a tough week, it's so important to me to acknowledge that there are no quick fixes to motherhood. Sometimes, I go awhile without feeling gushy about Zoe. Sometimes, it takes everything in me to force a smile on my face and take her out to the store, or to get up at 6:30 am when I hear my built-in "siren" getting louder and louder from the other room.

So what makes this all worth it?  I am a better person now. I have a husband who supports me and makes sacrifices along side of me to do this parenting thing. My daughter is defenseless and needs my help for the next 18+ years (and hopefully longer). I can envision a friendship with her someday. She is a human being, worthy of dignity and respect. She doesn't have the ability to not be selfish. I do. She is incredibly worthy of my love and attention, not because of anything that she does, just because she is. 
There is an intuition that motherhood provides that tells you to keep going when you don't have the emotions to support you. Everyday I know I am making the sacrifice to spend time with her instead of pursuing a full-time career ( I still work part-time). Every women (whether working or not) makes giant sacrifices.  In fact, womens' issues with work/life balance are incredibly understated in this day and age. But that's another topic for another day.

Today, my letter to Zoe is this: I love you. I always will. Being  a mom is the hardest thing I have ever done. I am learning that I don't need praise, admiration, appreciation, and somebody cheering me on anymore. I am learning resilience and how to love you better every day, so I can be your biggest cheerleader.