Millenial Middle Child

Dial-up raised us. TikTok surrounds us. We’re just out here translating.

My husband said the other night,
“Gen Z sucks — but do you think the baby boomers thought that about us?”

I couldn’t contain my laughter and said,
“Of course. My grandparents grew their own food. Picked it. Before school. During the Great Depression. Meanwhile, I get groceries delivered to my porch from my couch using an app on my phone.”

And it hit me: we’re the in-between.

The millennial middle child.

Raised by the bootstrappers, parenting the TikTok generation, trying to keep the peace and not totally lose our minds in the process.

We weren’t the builders.
We weren’t the disruptors.
We’re the bridge.

We watched our parents and grandparents grind — working for pensions, loyalty, houses with carpeted bathrooms. Then, we got degrees, racked up debt, and walked into a job market that ghosted us.

Now? We watch teenagers become millionaires by editing videos in their bedrooms.
And somehow, both things are called “work.”

It’s disorienting.
Not because we’re bitter (okay, maybe a little), but because we’re tired.

We did what we were told: work hard, be loyal, show up.
But the ladder moved. And sometimes it feels like the whole building disappeared.

Still, here’s what I’ve come to believe:
Every generation has worked hard — just in their own way.

Hard work used to mean dirt under your fingernails.
Now it might mean editing until 2 a.m.
Or monetizing your trauma.
Or trying to build something meaningful with a toddler climbing on your back mid-Zoom.

Both are exhausting.
Both are valid.
One just comes with a ring light and a comment section.

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And now I’m raising daughters in the middle of this.

In a world that says:
“Follow your passion.”
“Protect your peace.”
“Go viral or go home.”

I want them to be confident and kind.
Grounded and self-aware.
But also gritty. Capable. Resilient.
Willing to get their hands dirty. Willing to do the thing even when it’s boring, hard, or doesn’t get likes.

Because fulfillment doesn’t always feel like a dopamine hit.
Sometimes, it feels like showing up. Quietly. Repeatedly.
Without applause.

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So maybe we’re not the generation who grew our own food.
And maybe we’re not the ones building personal brands in high school.
But we are the ones standing in the middle — with one hand in the past, one hand in the future — trying to make sure our kids don’t lose the plot.

We know what it means to work hard without being seen.
And now we’re learning how to raise a generation that wants to be seen — without losing what matters when no one’s watching.

Maybe our role isn’t to judge or copy the generations around us.
Maybe it’s to translate.

To take what we learned — resilience, responsibility, showing up when it’s hard —
and teach it in a language our kids can actually hear.

Not with shame.
Not with “back in my day.”
But with the quiet knowing that hard work still matters.
That not everything is supposed to be easy.
And that sometimes, the most important work you’ll do is the work no one claps for.

As always, thanks for reading.

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What do you think?

If you’re a fellow millennial middle child — what values are you carrying forward?
What are you letting go of, on purpose?

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P.S. I’ve picked on my sister her whole life for being a textbook middle child, so I bet she is rolling right now.
Love you, Megan-in-the-middle. You the best.