There's a rosebush with a big pile of dog crap underneath. Which one are you gonna sniff? I actually said this to my son when he was in middle school. A-1 parenting? Maybe not, but I was exasperated by his knee-jerk pessimism, I wanted to get across the idea that even in less-than-ideal circumstances, he had choices. It’s not about denying hard things or pretending they don’t exist! It’s about taking a wider view and then choosing where to focus your energy. He probably gave me an eyeroll. It wouldn’t be the first time, from him and others. People have been making fun of my sunny disposition since college. I went to UC Berkeley in the late 80s. The culture was hyper-intellectual and the approved garb was cynicism. Cooler peers dismissed my cheerful enthusiasm (and, by extension, me) as ditzy, not worthy of serious attention or respect. Those years were pretty lonely, but I eventually found my people. Funny to think back on it now that I’m in my IDGAF years. Today I’d give those whippersnappers some side-eye & the finger. ANYWAY. This all comes to mind as my kids, now liberal arts graduates, are considering their next moves. Even with their many advantages, they face a daunting job market, career trajectories haunted by AI, an obstacle course of dating apps and a truly dark state of the nation. It’s rough out there. My kids aren’t the only ones in this boat, and the college-to-real-life transition is bound to be intimidating and messy. But I’d argue that each of our kids are uniquely affected because they’re individuals. Each has their own set of strengths, weaknesses, interests, histories, and neurotypes. The smooth, shiny path from graduation → job → life is less “normal” than many are willing to admit. Before my kids will hear my talk of roses, they need to hear me acknowledge the dog shit. (Let’s not call it crap, we’re all adults here.) They need me to believe them when they tell me things aren’t like they were when I graduated. Things have changed since they started college! The level of uncertainty is off the charts. And I do believe them. I made that rosebush quip in the mid-2010s. Life looks very different now, and I acknowledge a bewildering array of dog shit. 🥀💩💩💩💩💩💩💩💩💩💩💩💩 That said, I maintain my commitment to our agency in the face of difficulty. What else do we have beyond our choice of response? I don’t want to minimize the treacherous difficulty of it all — I want to normalize it. I want to say: You’re not alone in this. Keep going. You may not find THE way, but you’ll find YOUR way. There are no clear-cut answers or timelines. There will be good and bad days. Good and bad choices. Good and bad luck. What will you pick out of that pile and weave into the narrative of your life? What will you file away as something you did versus something you are? You could decide to tamp down your enthusiasm, cross your arms against possibility, and wave off hope. You’ll seem cooler, and, to many, smarter. But what if you asked yourself a braver question: Do I have another choice?
How do you talk to your kids about hope without sounding dismissive? The phrase toxic positivity gets tossed around too easily, I think (topic of another newsletter, perhaps) but also I get that relentless bright-siding is a form of disrespect. I’d love to hear your thoughts.
📝 NOTES OF NOTE
🍽️ A RECIPEI often use dinner leftovers as the basis for a brunch- or lunch salad the next day. This salad begins with Illia Chicken, a recipe Catherine Newman shared in her newsletter Crone Sandwich. THIS CHICKEN!! I can’t stop making it.
Illia Chicken Salad
Into a salad bowl: chicken, celery, and lettuce and/or cabbage. Add a tablespoon-ish of mayo or greek yogurt, mix well so the sauce from the chicken and mayo/yogurt combine into a creamy dressing. Correct seasoning with a splash of acid if necessary, and salt and pepper. Add avocado and other optional additions, mix gently to combine. Garnish with radish slices, cilantro, onions, cheese. Possibilities abound! Anything that would be good on a taco would be good thrown into this salad. Sit in a sunny spot and eat with relish. Not actual relish, you know what I mean. 🗄️ FROM THE ARCHIVESRelated reading
Thanks for reading Parent of Adults, my weekly-ish invitation to compare notes on life beyond the empty nest. I’m Asha Dornfest, a Portland, Oregon-based author & parent of two young adults. ➡️ Learn more about Parent of Adults or subscribe now for free.
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Saturday, June 7, 2025
The Rosebush and the Dog Sh*t
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