Parenting Grown Children: What Dr. Spock Forgot to Tell Us

Fighting over the grandbaby: New grandparents behaving badly

The Scottish poet Robert Burns had it right: "O would some power the giftie gie us, to see ourselves as others see us."

I was reminded of that line while reading a Carolyn Hax advisory in the Sunday Washington Post. Here's the gist of the complaint: Young couple with first baby are facing out-of-control competition by grandparents for them--new mom, new dad, new baby--to come visit. The divorced grandmother resents any visits to her ex--one of the granddads. Meanwhile, the young dad's  parents keep count of how many times they visit them versus one of her parents. "It has gotten so bad," the new mother [and someone's grown child] writes, "that they ask us where we are on weekends to see whether we are at another grandparent's house, and if we are, all hell breaks loose."

I know wherein she speaks. Several of my friends have voiced concern that the other grandparents get to see their grandchild more than they do, that the other set will have more influence over, gain more love from, be more important to the grand child. The feelings run deep. I've had little inklings of them myself--don't we all? Fortunately, most of us keep these thoughts and emotions to ourselves or vent them to friends. As you can tell from reading this Post clip--"how can we help them to understand how hurtful it is to be given so much guilt"--the situation there is out of control. But more to the point, there's nothing these grandparents are gaining by making their grown children feel guilty.

Granny as Nanny: Offering your services, even from a distance.

The magazine where I've spent the past 20 years of my career has been sold. The new owners have, as they say, brought on their own editorial team. In other words. my work-family of 20 years is no longer under one roof. So now I am free to spend more time on this blog (a plus) and to be available to help my grown children, who live in cities far from me, should they need it. This is the message I relayed to Alpha Daughter. To which she replied: "Well, I have a real problem with child-care coverage on Wednesday and Thursday. It would be wonderful if you could come up here from time to time to help out." I would pick up my little Grand at school, amuse her, get dinner ready--in other words, I would be a helpful, hands-on grandparent and parent.

It takes some recomputing on my part to figure out how this would work: Free to travel on a Wednesday and Thursday? I'm used to thinking Saturday and Sunday. But why not? "Have computer. Will travel. Can help out." That should be my new motto--if I can just wrap my mind and new reality around it.

Re-Nesting: What's driving them home?

The latest stats are not out yet--the census moves slowly--but it will doubtless show that this Great Recession has created a migration of sorts: adult children moving back home. In 1970, less than 8 percent of adult children between the ages of 25 to 34 lived with parents. By 2000, that percent was at 10.5. By 2010, the percent will be larger. The census suggests that there will be more than 80 million parents of grown children who have one of those children living home again.

What’s driving adult kids back home? Difficulties finding a job, decision to go back to school [graduate degree, anyone?]. Then there's foreclosures and housing prices. Besides the economic reasons, there are the age-old ones--protective parents and kids who've learned to love the comforts of being taken care of.

In today's world, financial pressures have to top the list. But there's also a need for a safe haven during a divorce. And, the grown kids may move back home to help out their aging parents.

If you're looking for practical advice on what to do if the boomerang happens to you, try this Web site. The bottom line on the author's advice: "Remember to treat your boomerang kids as adults. Making life easier on grown kids who live at home by doing their laundry

, cleaning their rooms, etc. can hurt them in the long run by delaying their transition into responsible, independent adulthood."

When Your Grown Child Needs You: The loneliness of the long-term visitor

Have you read Olive Kitteredge? Do. It's all about us and our interior lives, emotions and fears--of growing older, of our children moving away, of our spouses dying or worse, losing their minds.

For those of us whose grown children live in another city far from us, there's one particular story in Elizabeth Strout's series of linked short stories (they all revolve around Olive, a big woman with a big persona) that hit home. Olive, who has a dysfunctional relationship with her only child--her son has moved away and avoids contact with her--is suddenly invited by her son to come visit him and his new wife and her children from former relationshsips. The story touches on the tumult of emotions we go through when we visit our children, especially on our own without our life's partner--the joy of being needed and embraced by them and their family; the awkwardness of fitting in, of being a fifth wheel, of being part of things but not; touched by the affection within the little family; dismayed when a discipline of a child is [from our point of view] mishandled; the disorientation when you witness a nasty spat between spouses. And the surprise--the shock really--of the overwhelming desire to go home, even after just a few days in residence. Or, as Olive tells herself, "After three days, I stink like fish."

Strout also captures the almost inexplicable need and desire to touch base with our home base--a spouse, a close friend. To do so is almost an affirmation that we haven't melted into the woodwork. I think it gets back to that notion that we are no longer center stage. We know it. Intellectually, we accept it. When we go visit en force--paterfamilias and the momma bear--we're an exciting event; the center of things. And that's why we tend to wrap up the fish in a day or so. Leave while you're still ahead and still the Star Turn. But when we stay for longer--usually because we're needed for emergency babysitting-type purposes--the reality of how much on the periphery we really are hits home. And this despite all the kind words and attempts at inclusion our children make. Of course, Olive didn't get that from her son. But I leave what happened to her to the story (within the larger story), "Security." Read it and feel sad--for Olive and for all the losses that come along with getting older and being the parent of an adult child whose focus is, rightfully, on his or her growing family.

The Criticism Factor: Everything we do can be taken the wrong way.

It's almost universal--parents all over the world tell stories about how they tried to help their grown children only to find their assistance was taken as criticism. Here's my latest story, from a pediatrician I met from Sweden.
His grown son and wife live a few blocks away. Now that they have a baby, the doc and his wife are regular visitors. The beloved grandchild is now 15 months old and the grandparents have finally been asked to babysit. The assignment came with this warning: Not to worry. The little girl cries herself to sleep. It's just part of her going-to-sleep routine.
The young parents leave and the grandparents take over. Sure enough, when they put their grandchild to bed, she cries. "So," the pediatrician tells me, "I tiptoed into her room and sat by her crib and held her hand. She wrapped her litle fingers around mine and fell asleep. No crying."
The outcry came when the parents came home and learned what had happened. They were not pleased. "It gets particularly difficult," says the doc, "because i"m a pediatrician so my daughter-in-law tends to see everything I say as a criticism."
Pediatrician or not, a lot of us run into the same buzz saw--based in part on the fact that we've raised kids so, presumably, we know something about it. We can't help for hurting.

Re-Nesting: Advice on the move back home

If your grown children and their children are moving back home--out of economic necessity or for a temporary but long-term visit--there are lots of challenges ahead. Here's a blog that's detailing how one family is working things out. I like the tone of it. Here's part of an opener to one recent entry:

"When you invite your children to come back home for whatever reason (in this case a bad housing market) you can’t make them feel as if they are imposing.  It is very important to let them know that this is their home now also.  With a few simple ground rules laid out in advance, everyone can feel comfortable."

If you're interested in reading more, click here

Letting Go: The surge in the urge to protect

I spent a weekend with Alpha Daughter and her daughter. Alpha had to take part in a conference at a college that was a 4-hour drive from my home and two airplane flights from hers. She did not wish to be parted from her child for yet another weekend; her husband couldn't get away. I offered to meet her at the college, babysit by day and be there for a friendly visit in the evening. I drove there by myself [paterfamilias did not wish to partake] and it was unnerving--I was driving into unknown territory and it is hard to read a map when you're at the wheel and you want to double check those directions. In any case, I got there--rattled but I arrived. So did she--after several flight delays. So we weren't off to the best of starts.

The weekend wasn't easy. None of us were on familiar ground. But we made it through without any major meltdowns. Then came the time to part. I drove her to the little airport that serves the college town and told her to run inside and see if her flight was on time. In she went and out she came: the flight would be delayed; no one knew how long. It had yet to leave the airport from whence it was supposed to cometh. If that flight was late, she would miss her connecting flight and then... and then?

That was her problem. Here was mine. Stay or go? If i stayed, I could always drive her to our home and put her on a direct flight to her city. This is what I was thinking as she unloaded her bags and her daughter. I hesitated. The urge to protect was surging. Should I park the car and wait with her to make sure everything was OK? Or should I drive off--I had a four hour drive ahead of me and had to go to work the next day. What to do?

Reader, I left: Helped her get the bags out of the car; kissed my little Grand goodbye and started the journey home. With a heavy heart. Anxious. Uneasy. But here was the comfort I took: I reminded myself that Alpha daughter is a grown woman with a child. She will handle whatever happens. It's my maternal instinct kicking in that made me want to provide and protect. But she has that instinct now--for herself and her child.

I was reminded of this feeling when I read a piece in the New York Times by Michelle Slatalla, in which she describes how her college-age daughter on a trip to Haiti to do volunteer work becomes ill--sick enough to need intravenous fluids. The mother's first instinct is to fly to her side--but it's not really possible at that moment. As the daughter starts to recover, she calls and asks her mother whether she should come home. She wants to but doesn't want to. What should she do, she asks her mother? "Stay" Slatalla says, though she agonizes over the decision. "There's nothing that instructs parents on exactly how and when to let go," the mother writes. "No guidebook that says how much or how far to push."

Hers was clearly a closer call than mine. A younger child; a situation more fraught with danger. But the feeling at the core is the same: The need, the desire, the urge to take care of our children--even when they are grown up and leading independent and successful lives.

Providing Child Care: The economy gives us yet another role

This harsh economic downturn takes it toll in many ways. Our 401ks may be lighter and tighter but our grown children face even grater perils: job loss, job change, job downgrade. Where they might have had full time nannies before, that is now a luxury. Or is it? Some of us are filling that gap. The only stat I've seen is one quoted in the article below, that about 40 percent of grandparents who live within an hour’s drive of young grandchildren provide regular child care while the mothers work; only 8 percent of them are rewarded financially. I have several friends who've answered the call for help--more about those stories in future blogs. Meanwhile, here's the phenomenon as reported by the Wall Street Journal (June 24). 

WHEN GRANNY IS YOUR NANNY

By Sue Shellenbarger

Marie Rej, a consultant and mother of two, and her mother, Antoinette Traniello, often clash over the right way to raise kids. Antoinette thinks Marie is too lenient, and Marie regards Antoinette’s rules as too black-and-white.

But the Wakefield, Mass., mother and daughter are swallowing their differences so Antoinette can provide the summer child-care help Marie needs after a recent layoff and job change. Disagreements aside, Marie says gratefully, her mother “has told me she’ll pitch in wherever she’s needed.”

Similar scenes are playing out nationwide, as grandparents step up to meet the erratic child-care demands imposed by a rocky economy. Prevailing child-rearing beliefs have taken many turns in the past 60 years, creating ample grounds for disagreement between caregivers, whether they’re tradition-minded World War II-era grandparents, hovering baby boomers or the family-focused, informal moms and dads of Generation X. Other parents wrestle with how to divvy up authority or whether to pay grandparents for their help The problem-solving and peacekeeping strategies families must use to make these two-generational setups work can make already complicated family relationships even more challenging.

Some forecasters predicted this generation of grandparents would be too self-absorbed to help with child care. But there’s no evidence that today’s grandparents are backing away. The proportion of preschoolers cared for primarily by their grandparents while their mothers work rose to 19.4% in 2005, the latest data available, from 15.9% in 1995, the Census Bureau says. A wave of closings and cutbacks in child-care facilities suggest the trend is continuing.

Some 40% of grandparents who live within an hour’s drive of young grandchildren provide regular child care while their mothers work, says a 2008 survey of 500 grandparents by the National Association of Child Care Resource & Referral Agencies, an Arlington, Va., nonprofit. And grandparents’ child-care hours rise significantly in the summer, the Census Bureau says.

It seems “boomers aren’t as spoiled as we thought,” says Georgia Witkin, assistant professor of psychiatry at Mount Sinai Medical Center, New York, and a senior editor for Grandparents.com, a Web site on grandparenting. “It was anticipated that a lot of grandparents might establish separate lives and might resent having those interrupted,” she says. While some have, others “like to feel needed.”

Visitors: When the kids and their kids come home for a visit

Alpha daughter and her daughter have come home for a visit--a long weekend. The Grand is six--not a difficult age. We don't have to watch her like a two-year-old. We are not tied to naps or strict schedules. We can go out to dinner together and enjoy ourselves. She can come to our office and charm our co-workers. We can go to museums or the zoo and discuss what we're seeing and why it's interesting. We can read books. She can sit and read a book by herself. She can play by herself for at least an hour or two.
And yet. And yet. They left today and we are in a state of collaptive exhaustion. Why should this be? Alpha daughter is helpful--she pitches in to prepare meals and to clean up. She doesn't expect us to babysit endlessly. She is here to enjoy some free time with her daughter and some quality time with us as well.

What is it that sets off the weariness? Part of it is tension: will we manage not to offend? Will Paterfamilias, the more critical of alpha daughter's parents, be too critical--of his daughter or, worse yet, his daughter's daughter?  He does not take kindly to having his conversation interrupted and six year olds tend to, well, interrupt. And it's not easy for less-critical me. I never know when I'm going to stick my foot in it, so to speak. Say the wrong thing. And it's so easy to do. Just suggest that you can babysit if she wants to get a haircut, and you can feel the bristling begin.

But that's only part of it. There's another more neutral reason--at least I've come to think there's a more neutral reason. The exhaustion stems, in part, from the break in routine. We eat earlier when we have visitors--so there's a rush to get food prepared and on the table. No more sitting around to watch the evening news then chatting about what we might have for dinner and taking our time to prepare it. And the food they eat is different from the food we eat--they are vegetarians [no fish, no fowl, to say nothing of the beefier stuff; no cheese with rennet]. So I have to re-think meals. It's not terrible. Not impossible. But challenging. And adjustments like that add up. Are they comfortable in the beds you've prepared for them? Is the TV too loud? Are you watching something that should be turned off if the six-year-old wanders into the room--like news of war and bombings or terrible disasters or heinous crimes.

It was with some relief that we drove them to the airport. But no sooner did they walk toward security check in and wave goodbye than the tears welled up. I miss them. I wish they lived near by so that I could have a more natural to and fro with my daughter and her family.

Would that be any better? Friends whose children and grandchildren live in the same city as they do have their exhaustions as well--filling in for a weekend babysit so the parents can go away for the weekend; the last minute call in an emergency--driving to a grown child's house at 2 in the morning. We want to be there for all that. Why else are we still around? Why else do we call ourselves family? And yet, we all tell each other the tales of how tired we are when we've had some time--a visit--with our grown children.

Adult Children as Guests: Home for a visit--for weeks at a time.

Lucy has three children--all grown and living independently. Two live nearby. One daughter lives far away--in a third-world country where her job is first rate and so are the perks. She has two nannies for two children. So when she came home for a three-week visit--part work, part parental visit--a nanny came with her. Only one of them. The one for the baby. Not the one for the 4-year old.
I tell you all this to tell you what Lucy said when I asked her if having the nanny as part of the entourage made things easier. "No," Lucy says. "She was just another mouth to feed."
Lucy, who's a very energetic person, was exhausted by the visit--even though she does regular duty taking care of her two grandchildren who live nearby.I bumped into her two weeks after her far-away daughter left and she said she was just recovering. And dreading/excited about another visit--the far-away daughter was due to come back for another three-weeker this summer.

What is this all about? Almost everyone I know reports a similar response to a visit from their adult children with grandchildren in tow. It seems it's just as bad even when there's a nanny around to help with the child care, or when the adult children themselves pay full attention to the care and tending of their offspring.

My theory is that it's the change in routine. And the provisioning of the refrigerator and the pulling together of meals three times a day. with special meals that cater to special tastes of very small people. "Why can't he just have cereal for dinner," Lucy asked one evening when her small grandson who lives so far away didn't like what was offered. This did not occur to her daughter. And Lucy's theory on this is that her daughter and her grandchildren are so used to having nannies around to cater to every need, they don't have to make do with cereal. Nor do they insist that what's offered will be eaten. Someone will hop up and boil the pasta and heap on the butter and satisfy the little one's appetite.