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

Money Matters: Who pays for what when the kids move back home

When Shari's son, daughter-in-law and two children moved into her house, they had, financially speaking, nothing. The cookie business they started together had failed--despite infusions of money from the family. So when Shari and her husband Hal opened their home as a refuge--"a lifeline" she calls it--money was an issue. "We could have subsidized their rent," Shari says of the decision to have the family move in with her, "but their needs were so far above and beyond that. They needed food, medical insurance, car insurance, clothes--the works." Shari and Hal were fortunate to have the wherewithal to pick up the tab for the big things, but what to do about "walking around money" while the son and daughter-in-law were job hunting?

At first, the four adults held Sunday night meetings: to go over any unmet needs or frustrations; to keep Shari and Hal up to date on job interviews and other employment prospects. Once it became clear what some of the day-to-day cash needs were, Hal came up with a plan. Every Monday morning they would leave Shari's son a check that was big enough to cover lunches, car fare, outings with the kids, other incidentals for both the son and his wife. That way, the younger couple wouldn't have to ask every time they needed something. This was important to Shari: "Money can be very divisive," she says. "It can be a wedge." She didn't want her son to feel demeaned by his circumstances, that he had to ask his Mommy for money to meet a friend for lunch or take his kids to the movies. And there was this: she didn't want either her son or daughter-in-law to rush into a job that wasn't on a career path.

It helps when you can afford to be as generous as Shari and Hal were. But the important point, to me, was not so much how much they could give and how many bills they could cover, but the open way they communicated. Talking things out--being up front about even the most personal money issues--can ease a tricky financial situation. And for Shari, setting a clear goal--jobs for her children that were on a career path--helped her formulate a plan she could live with and not resent.

Keep Your Mouth Shut: Rearing their children is their business.

Every piece of advice you've read tells you the same thing: Don't interfere with your grown children's parenting of their children. And we don't. But oh how close we can come to making the fatal error. It's tough to sit and watch discipline in action. This is especially true for those of us who live far from our grown children, as we do: Visits tend to be extended and you see too much--but don't know enough about what's been going on to put it in context.

This Thanksgiving, we hung around Uber son's house for four days, and on one of those days we were witness to a major meltdown: One of our grands lost a checker game to a sibling. There were tears and much unhappiness. The parents were adamant about imparting lessons about good sportsmanship and how important it is in life to know how to "take a punch" gracefully. This only seemed to produce more tears and wailing, followed by more chastising and lecturing. To us, the witnesses sitting idly by, it seemed like over-reaction on the parents part. It was uncomfortable and painful to sit there. And Paterfamilias is a lucky man. As he was about to open his mouth and intervene in defense of his Grand--a major no-no--I was able to clap a hand over his mouth--figuratively speaking. Even though I wanted to help put an end to it, too.

Of course, 10 minutes after the meltdown, all was well. The Grand was back in the room, laughing and talking and kidding around with us. And that's what we have to remember when we're tempted to "say something." We don't have the context of previous behavior or the knowledge about the consistency of discipline to balance out what we're hearing and seeing in the moment. Besides, our grown children may not know better about parenting than we do [look how successful we were!], but then again, maybe they do. Besides, it's their ball and their court.

Paying for Vacation: Who foots the bill when you're all adults?

"It took a lot of courage to make that call." That's what my dentist tells me. We are talking about a vacation she took with her two sons and their families. One son lives in the middle of the country; the other on the east coast in the same city as my dentist. She wanted to have a mini-vacation where the sons could see each other and the cousins could play together and get to know each other better. I know that feeling. For several years, my two children lived on opposite coasts and I saw a me-organized vacation as a means toward cousin-bonding.

Her problem--one many of us face--was fiscal: She didn't feel it was fair to pay for everyone--her sons are, after all, adults who are able to support their families. But she knew it would be easy for one son to pay his way and a hardship for the other. That's when she made the call: To the son who was more comfortable financially. She asked him how he felt about paying for a condo unit for himself and his family. No problem, he said. "Well," she then told him, "I don't think your brother can so would you mind if we paid for part of his unit." "No problem, Mom," her son said. She then called her other son and he told her he really couldn't afford the trip. She offered to split the condo charge with him and the deal was sealed.

The 4-day vacation at a park in Ohio--two condo units (one for each young family) and a room at the main lodge for my dentist and her husband--went really well, she says. The cousins had fun together. Each son and family cooked dinner for the rest of the extended family one night; the parents took everyone out one night.

There were many things that made the vacation a success. Good weather. Fun things to do together and apart. But a key, my dentist says, was talking about and settling the financial issues in advance.

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.

Visiting Privileges: Put down that broom; don't lift that dust rag

A friend's daughter lives in London. She's gone and married a Britisher and has three sons--all of whom speak with a marked British accent. When she visits and they want their dessert, they ask, "May I have some pudding, please." Christopher Robin, where are you?

But I digress. On her most recent visit to her daughter, my friend, MaryEllen, was asked by the daughter to make her famous lamb dish--famous within the family and a favorite of the daughter's. Off to work went the daughter and son-in-law; off to school, accompanied by the nanny, went the children. There MaryEllen was, alone in a strange kitchen. She didn't know where things were kept but she did know she needed a big pot. So she looked in all the cabinets and finally found a big pot in a high-up cabinet. When she climbed up there to take it down, she noticed there was a lot of dust. Her first thought: Tell her daughter that the once-a-week housekeeper needed to clean up there. And when her daughter came home--the house sweetly perfumed by the lamb dish--that's what she started to say. But before she could get it all out, her daughter launched into an outburst: "Is this why you come to visit? To search around and find things that are wrong? Why don't you just stay home"--and lots of other words to that effect.

MaryEllen is not alone. Another friend, Cesar and Marcia, went to visit their daughter and her family in California. They stayed in their apartment, providing some babysitting for their grandchild. One evening, when guests were expected for dinner and the grown children were at work, Cesar took out the vacuum cleaner and started vacuuming. His son-in-law came home in the midst of the clean-up and started yelling at him--a diatribe similar to the one MaryEllen experienced. Only more shocking, since it wasn't his child who was lambasting him. It was his son-in-law.

We may think we're helping our children and their families--pointing out that the maid should dust a closet; cleaning up when guests are due--but whatever we're doing is implied criticism. We are not, in fact, minding our business. We're minding theirs. Only we just don't know when we are doing that and when we are actually being helpful.

 

Refilling the Nest: Economic woes bring older adult children home

The latest census report and a couple of surveys hold some startling statistics for those of us with adult children: They are moving back home in force. And at mid-career--or older.

Here are the numbers, starting with the younger ones:

According to the most recent Census report, there were 5.1 million Americans age 25 to 34 living in the home of a parent. In 2004, there were only 4.3 million doing so.

When AARP surveyed 1,000 adults this spring, it found that 11 percent of people between ages 35 and 44 were living with parents or in-laws.

A recent survey by grandparents.com of 4,800 grandparents found 12.5 percent reporting that they lived in the same home as their grandchildren; of those, 53 percent said that the adult children and grandchildren who lived with them could not afford to live independently.

And the trend is likely to keep going as this deep recession just begins to hit bottom. These stats and some human interest stories to go with them are in this story from the New York Times.

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.

Home for the Holidays: Being a good vistor or host

Whether your family comes to you or you go to them, the holidays--Thanksgiving, Christmas, Passover, whatever--can be a strain on everyone. Setting aside the emotional pitfalls, there are also the day-to-day physical displeasures--beds to make, food to prepare, individual needs to cater to. That's what I found so helpful in this blog: It's full of simple ways to ease the hospitality issues.

One of the writer's ideas: keep little tote bags for each grandchild--or adult child. Fill it with special little things each one likes or needs (a wash cloth, slippers, favorite lotions; for little kids, crayons and a pad of paper.) On arrival day, put the tote on each child's bed, along with a towel, new box of tissues and a bottle of water. Repeat for each visit.

So simple. So welcoming. And so easy to do if it becomes a habit. I like it! I may even try it.

 

 

Happy Holidays: The torch passes and our kids put their stamp on Thanksgiving.

It is the Saturday after Thanksgiving and I am still peppy. Usually, at this point in the Thanksgiving weekend, I fall into bed in a state of total exhaustion. But I've just spent three days with three families under one roof [paterfamilias and I; uber son and his growing family; alpha daughter and hers]. All three of the "big" grands were there, and all the running around and energy that  a 5, 6 and 7 year-old can expend in their waking hours were expended. Footballs were thrown, dress-up was played; special "performances" were given.  Plus there was all the cuteness, sweetness and smiley-ness of a 6-month old--and all the constant parenting and protecting that involves. A big dinner was served [turkey as well as tofurky and many many trimming] and lots and lots of other meals [both regular and veggie]. Beds were made, dishes washed, stories read, long walks taken. And yet, here I stand, feeling perfectly refreshed.

The difference? This year our family--each of us live in a different city--convened at uber son's house. He, and most especially my daughter-in-law, took on all the responsibilities for shopping and figuring our where everyone would sleep. I helped with the cooking--I made some of my favorites--but I was second mate. New dishes or new variations of dishes were introduced. My daughter-in-law [AKA second daughter] has a real flair for floral arrangements and, with what seemed like little effort, a lovely and appropriately low-key arrangement was created for the center of the table--as opposed to my smooshing flowers into a vase.

It didn't matter how much I pitched in to help, the reality is this: It wasn't my house . Is it that simple? Not really. As usual, I wanted to do everything I could to make things easier for my children--by helping with their kids, running an errand, doing a load of wash or whatever. Still it wasn't that tiring because others were in charge. Maybe it's because paterfamilias and I experienced what my friend Marian, the psychiatrist, calls "flattening of the hierarchy."  At moments, paterfamilias, who is much less involved in making the household work, came close to what my friend Steve calls "feeling irrelevant." Not that either of us felt irrelevant--but we were not the center of the dynamics. Connections were being made between daughter and daughter-in-law; between daughter-in-law and son-in-law. Reconnections were being made between son and daughter who don't see each other very often. Bonds were being forged between pint-sized cousins. We are the original connective tissue, but they are stretching out without us. Which is how it has to be.

I kinda liked passing the Thanksgiving torch. I didn't miss all the shopping, cooking and bed-making that having eight visitors in my home entails--to say nothing of the many trips to the airport to pick everyone up with suitable car seats in cars. But paterfamilias was of another mind. Of course. He likes being master of the house. He likes filling it with his children and his children's children. He likes the routines we had--the zoo on the day after Thanksgiving, the setting up of his old but still-runnable electric trains. Being head of the table and of the family. He is not tredding lightly on any flattening of the hierarchy. On this Saturday after Thanksgiving, he wants to re-think what we do next year and who does it.

De-Nested: When adult kids move back home, politeness is strained.

I'm a sucker for a new phrase, especially when it captures the definition of the moment. Here's my most recent find: Economy of gratitude. It refers to the breakdown in the way we treat each other--we being the parents and ourr adult children who have moved back into the family nest. It's when family members notice only the inconveniences and ignore the nice things that we do for one another.

According to a recent story in the Los Angeles Times, that doesn't have to happen. "Children and parents can peacefully coexist by approaching the new living arrangement as they would if they were taking on any roommate: Agree in advance on how to handle household purchases, cleaning and other responsibilities. Resolve the question of who is in charge and how the house is to be governed, and the situation may not seem so bad after all."

The L.A. Times is covering the issue because California is one of the epicenters of the foreclosure crisis. One of the phenomenons of that tragedy is that people who are losing their homes or in danger of losing their homes, are bunking in together intergenerationally. That is, parents with children or children with parents. But that phenomenon is not limited to the usual--parents and their 20-something children. It involves older children. And here's why

An AARP study--released in September and reflecting 2007 foreclosure woes--found that more than a quarter of the foreclosures and delinquencies in the second half of 2007 involved homeowners ages 50 or older. SInce then there has been the calamity of the plunging stock market and the unraveling of the financial safety net for many midcareer Americans and their parents. No reliable figures yet exist on the number of adults forced to move in with parents because of the financial crises--or adult children moving in with their parents to help the parents--but it's clear this group consists of older, previously well-established homeowners.

The time are a changin' and it's not for the better.