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Some serious thoughts today—don’t worry, I’ll throw in a little humor so nobody falls asleep mid-paragraph.
I’ve been talking a lot with my grandchildren lately. They’re amazing young adults who, frankly, seem to know more about themselves, their reality, and their dreams than I did at their age. At 22, I was still deciding whether I could give up hairspray and if Hamburger Helper counted as cooking.
What makes me proud is that they already understand work/life balance—something my generation treated like a mythical unicorn. We were too busy chasing promotions, raising families, and proudly collecting ulcers to stop and breathe. These kids? They’re climbing life’s mountains, yes—but they’re also smart enough to pause and admire the view instead of just shoving granola bars in their pockets and sprinting upward.
They don’t buy into the “hard work equals reward” fairy tale, either. They’ll give 100% during paid hours but when they clock out, they actually clock out. Radical, I know. To some in my generation, that looks like laziness. But these kids have seen the rigged game up close: the boss’s kids who stroll in late, leave early, and still get a bigger paycheck, or the company that cries “no budget for raises” right before the executives post photos from their fifth vacation this year. They’ve figured out that “going above and beyond” mostly means “working free overtime while someone else eats lobster.”
So they do solid work—because they were raised that way—but they don’t sell their souls. Honestly, I greatly admire that.
This week, I reminded a couple of them that they’re still babies in the adult world. At age two, they were just learning to walk without face-planting. At twenty-two, they’re just learning to navigate bills, bosses, and breakups. At four, they were figuring out truth versus lies. At twenty-four, they’re discovering the adult version of that—like realizing that health insurance is not the same thing as healthcare—just a very expensive permission slip.
These years are the toddler years for adulthood: wobbling, stumbling, sometimes screaming in frustration, but also growing. And just like toddlers, they’ll eventually find their stride.
So my advice to them—and maybe to all of us—is this: take your time becoming who you’re meant to be. Because adulthood isn’t about sprinting to the top of the mountain. Adulthood isn’t measured in speed or titles, but in the peace you feel when the mountain you’ve chosen feels like home at the top.
Do YOU, sweets, do YOU.