So there was a movie a while back called “Failure to Launch” with that Matthew McConaughey fella (yes, I had to look up how to spell his name) who played a thirty-something who still lived with his mom and dad. Frankly, all I remember from the movie is that the guy didn’t seem to own a shirt and some funny scene with the former Pittsburgh Steelers’ quarterback, Terry Bradshaw, walking around naked in the house.
This failure to launch theme seems more prevalent with the current crop of kids than with our generation. Ouch! Did I really just say “with our generation”? Am I finally that guy, the one who talks about how things were different back in the day? Oh well, so be it, because things were different back in the day. I am from a large family. There were ten of us living in a 1,000 square foot house, and obviously that means we doubled up and even tripled up on kids in bedrooms. (I swear to this day, I still can’t figure out how to make the top bed on a bunk bed.)
Back when I was coming of age, it was pretty much family tradition to get the same gift upon turning 18. And that coming of age gift: an empty suit case. Point made, Dad; message received loud and clear!
I recall going away to college with my truck full of second-hand and third-hand furniture and returning home two weeks later to pick up the rest of my stuff. I walked into my old bedroom, a converted front porch as that is how you do it when you have ten people living in 1,000 square feet. But something seemed different. Was it me? Had I already changed in two weeks away from my home? (Insert Thomas Wolfe’s “You Can’t Go Home” here.) No, it wasn’t me that had changed. Indeed something seemed different because something was different. My old bedroom was different. And by “old bedroom,” I mean all of two weeks ago. Bed gone; sewing machine and mannequin in its place. The cheap, old wood-paneled walls were now painted pink, and to top it off, or should I say to add insult to injury, the floor had lost that toasty beige carpet and was wall-to-wall PINK. I walked into the kitchen and found my mom making supper. “Hey Mom, what the hell happened in my room?” I asked.
“Oh, that. Well, I always wanted a sewing room, and so when you left, I had enough space to get one, please hand me that colander” was her nonchalant reply. Ouch! Point made, Mom; message received loud and clear!
Of all eight kids, I am sure that some of us came back and camped out for a bit after college, and I do believe that one of my brothers hung out for more than a few years after college. But the standard operating procedure in our home and for most of my peers was this – you turn 18 and go launch your own life.
Today, it seems to be a bit of different story, and honestly, I don’t fully understand why. But I would suggest that some of it has to do with the times in which we live, and some of it has to do with us. The parents of these kids, or should I say young adults, don’t seem to be as willing to let go as our parents were. I dunno, it may be that our parents were only one generation removed from actual kids launching into adulthood a bit prematurely. Both of my grandfathers were out on their own by the time they were 13 years old. That was not all that unheard of in their time. My parents, no doubt being influenced by this as their dads no doubt told them stories, probably thought that 18 was a ripe age to get out there and join the adult world.
A year or two ago, I read a Wall Street Journal article about this new phenomenon called “Helicopter Parents.” These are the parents who hover over their children and make, or at the least strongly influence, every one of the kids’ decisions. The article even went to the absurd. (After all, if you don’t go the extreme you don’t sell newspapers. Dog bites mailman is not news; mailman bites dog is front page.) The article spoke to a situation, which they claimed was becoming more and more common, where some parents were actually going on job interviews with their adult kids. Now I have hired my fair share of people, and I can assure you that would be one short interview! Well, maybe not so short if I found the parent to be well qualified for the job.
How different was my world? I can remember at age 21 as a senior in college, just three months before graduation, having my dad ask me, “What is your major anyway?” Not too hovering, I would say. To my folks, it really was about us picking up our stuff and moving on with our lives, making our own mistakes and our own choices, and realizing the benefits from those choices and the costs associated with the suboptimal choices. This wasn’t about them loving us any less; this was about them having a firm belief that they, for the most part, had done their jobs and it was time for us to start doing ours. In my world, there was an additional driver for my folks to turn us loose. When I left, they still had three more kids to raise.
Now I would suggest that a lot of this has to do with parental projection; we, as parents, want “the best” for our kids and therefore go about “influencing” their decisions, directions and energies. But parental projection, like all projection, is about us and not about the kids. As Carl Jung says (and in case you haven’t noticed yet, this is a huge driver in my parenting approach and pretty much the theme of my parenting books), and I paraphrase here, “Parental projection is the worst sin a parent can lay on a child.”
I will talk more, a lot more, about parental projection later in this little book.
So what is this failure to launch that seems to be so common these days? I believe it stems a bit from the kids not being “ready” to take on life’s challenges, from that fear of all that being an adult conjures up. I also believe that it stems a bit from parental projection, about us wanting to make sure our kids are 100% ready for the next phase. Hell, who is? I turned 18 a long time ago, and some days I still wonder if I am ready for all that being an adult has to “offer.” Additionally, I believe that some of this failure to launch comes from our (the parents’) own insecurities and the need to be needed. If these kids venture off in all their glory to go fight their own dragons and face their own demons, then they won’t need us anymore. I have worn these parenting shoes for so long, I now identify myself with being a parent as much, if not more so, than being a person. Don’t get me wrong here; I can absolutely say that I have felt that at times. And never mind that whole empty nest syndrome, especially when the empty nesters are a married couple. Too many times, the kids have provided a buffer for the parents’ relationship with each other (and with self), and too many times, the married parents feel like once the nest is empty, they will have to re-introduce themselves to that stranger sitting over there in the Lazy –boy. That whole notion can conjure up some strong fears, and those fears come out in projection—clinging to or enabling that kid to stay home far too long.
Interestingly enough, maybe I’m a big tough guy when it comes to this subject. I have told my kiddos time and again that they will have about 90 days to come back around and get enough money saved up to launch on their own. Perhaps a better idea would be for me to just give them, as one of their college graduation gifts, the money for their “grub stake” to allow them to launch upon graduation. But in all honesty, I may be all talk. We’ll see.
I have too many friends and acquaintances that have post-college-aged young adults living with them and free-loading. I can’t see myself doing that, but time will tell.
My reason for being such a tough guy on this is issue is that I have seen far too many of these young adults retard their own personal growth by not getting out there. It seems to me, as an observer of this phenomenon, that by the parents’ enabling (out of their own “need” to be needed) the young adult to not launch, the personal, emotional growth of the young adult is stunted. Surely, it is apparent that most of us humans will do what is easy over what is hard and what is safe over what is scary. Sleeping in my old bunk bed on the sheets that Momma washed and eating the breakfasts she cooked sure seems like a safer, less risky, proposition than going to work every day and taking on the risks associated with becoming a professional in the corporate world. (As my kiddos like to say— I’m just saying.
I have a dear friend whose 21-yearold son is living at home, no big job and not going to college. Seems to me he has no “plan, ” no direction. What is that line from the George Harrison song (which I later found out was a paraphrasing of Alice in Wonderland’s Cheshire Cat), “if you don’t know where you’re going, any road will get you there.”
So when I query my acquaintance about this young adult still living at home with mom and dad and whether that is the healthiest thing for that kid, her answer is, “I just love him.” “I just go on loving him” was the exact response I got when I asked, “how long do you let him continue that?” I was not arguing, as I don’t actually know. (Perhaps THAT is the theme of this book after all: “I just don’t know.”) I was curious, as I am always on the lookout for data points to assist me in future parenting challenges. I wanted to ask the question, “Yeah, but when does ‘I will just love him’ become enabling? And when is a ‘tougher’ love providing a healthier love?” But I was too chicken to ask, so I let it go. But I wondered about this conversation a lot. Many a friend has said to me, “Ah, Talley-man, you talk a big game now, but you aren’t going to be able to put your kid out on the street.” I can’t disagree with that statement, but it seems, to me that they are taking a polarity stance on the subject. Isn’t there possibly something healthier for the kid in getting them out the door? Far too many times have I seen three months turn into 24 months. I guess in the scheme of life, 24 months is not such a big deal, but again, I dunno.
It does seem to me that this whole question of “enabling” in a positive manner and in a negative manner is quite dependent on the individual kid. But it also seems to me that we choose, too often, to enable in a less healthy manner those who are not as much of a “self-starter”. That is the conundrum I guess.
I keep telling my kiddos that once they are done with college, I am pretty well done with my financial obligations to them. I tell them that the rest of my nest egg is going to be for my lifestyle and pleasure and to make certain that they don’t have to take care of me as an old man. I doubt they appreciate that very much now, but hopefully, when it comes time for someone to change this old man’s diaper, they will be glad I didn’t spend everything on them and somebody else can enjoy that job. When phrased like that, my kids seem to be more open to the notion of my cutting off the cash flow at some point.
It seems that much of this challenge can be avoided by raising kids who have a chest of tools to take into adulthood. Allowing them to make their own decisions and deal with the consequences of those decisions at an early age is a healthier way to enable them. Or so I believe. A simple little story comes to mind from when my son was a pretty young guy. He was not just quiet, but also a bit bashful. I remember more than a few times sitting in a restaurant when he suggested that he wanted more Coke. I would say, “Okay, when the waiter man comes over, you tell him you would like more Coke.”
He would typically reply with a bit of a whiny, “No, I don’t want to ask him. Will you please ask him?”
“Nope. If you want more, you ask the guy,” was my direction, every time.
I can vividly remember feeling like a big bully at the time. He wanted the drink, and he was torn up nervous about asking for it. So he wouldn’t ask, ever. I didn’t like the feeling I had about myself at the time, but I was convinced (okay, I was hoping) that this painful lesson, for both him and me, would teach him to one day stand on his own two. Now of course, I am not suggesting that having your 7year-old ask for his own cola is going to guarantee that you don’t have a 50-year-old leach living in your home some day. But it would seem that raising our kids in a manner such that they make their own decisions and deal with the consequences over their lifetime, even one as short as 18 – 22 years, would be a more
positive manner of “enabling” our kiddos.
Finally, I must admit that I may be all talk on this subject, and I may crater when the time comes and allow my kids to leach on for far too many years. But I can guarantee you one thing. I will not go on interviews with them because after a career in corporate America, I don’t like to wear ties any more than I have to.
thank you