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

Vacationing Togetherness: Two rules for avoiding friction

She's become a veteran at this: hosting her grown children and their families at the villa she rents in Tuscany. We won't go into how some people are really lucky about their vacation deals--she teaches Italian and needs to keep her skills fresh; he's a successful businessman [retired] and can afford to indulge this form of refreshment. Over the years of visits by grown children, other relatives, myriad friends and acquaintances, she has learned how to handle the extended [more than one night] visit.

Her first house rule for her children--two sons, each with a wife and two children--is simple: Keep 'em busy.

Before anybody arrives, she makes the daily plans. When they get there, she shares. Here's her rationale: "We never want a day when they can say, what are we going to do today? Or a day when they are just going to sit around the house and swim in the pool all day. I hand them a calendar when they arrive. It shows them what the plan is for each day. If they don't want to do it, they know in advance what's coming. We can negotiate and make another plan. Of course, they tend to stay with what I'm planning since I go with them and I'm the only one who speaks Italian. That makes it a lot easier for them to take trains to visit other cities, go out to lunch, understand the guided tour at the aquarium in Genoa."

Second house rule: visits are one family at a time: serial visits only, never together.

Her rationale: Too many opportunities for sibling rivalry, resentments over child-rearing practices and misunderstandings among family members. Besides, two sons, two daughters-in-law and four grandchildren would be too many people to get moving in one direction at a specified time. 

How do her kids take to this? One comes every year for a week. The other has made the trek to Italy only twice in six years. Their choice.

Parenting Grown Children: Smother love overdoes the kindness and helpfulness bit.

Every summer, friends' grown child comes to their house at the beach for a two-week vacation--rent free, of course. Every winter, my friends take this daughter, their son-in-law and two children on a long-weekend ski trip. My friends pay for the condo and the lift tickets. The daughter lives near my friends and is frequently a guest for Sunday dinner and always for Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter.

Since my children live far away from me and Paterfamilias and we don't have a summer house by the beach or anywhere else, I usually think, "Lucky friends to be able to treat their daughter so well; to be able to spend so much time together in a pleasurable setting; to get to know their grandchildren so well; to be so much a part of their child's life.

And yet there's another side to the story, as a Carolyn Hax column made clear. "Any advice," a son wrote, "on how to deal with a mother who is smothering me with love?" The son is married; he and his wife have good jobs and two children. "Yet, Mom insists upon family vacations, family dinners, family everything. And she always makes reservations and nonrefundable deposits first, then invites us second, with that little (or big) bit of guilt thrown in." What the son wanted to know is, how to tell his mother to "let me live my own life and meet you on my own terms."

Of course, there's a big difference between inviting and insisting; on making plans together and issuing a fiat; on making your resources available to them at their convenience and playing the guilt card.

So what was Hax's advice? "Accept the number of invitations that feels right to you, decline the overkill, and gently, kindly, firmly become an immovable object who will not get into long renegotiation of each 'no' you issue."

From our side of the aisle, if we notice a son or daughter setting these kinds of limits--"We can't go on a vacation with you every year"--it may be time to gut check whether we're practicing smother love.

 

Vacation Togetherness: Letting the kids make the plans

When friends headed for a vacation in New Zealand, they had a two-fold purpose. One was to see the country but the other was to visit a daughter who had been living there for three years. The plan was to travel around the country with their daughter and one of their sons, who came along for the family togetherness of it.

What made the trip unusual was that the parents had nothing to do with the planning of the trip once they landed in New Zealand. They let their grown kids do it. "This was a country where my daughter was living for three years. So I wanted to see it through her eyes," says the mom. "She knew what she wanted to see. My son is a naturalist so he knew what he wanted to see. We let them plan it." They followed their kids' itinerary and sat out hikes or climbs when they felt uncomfortable doing them. "I wasn't going to climb a glacier," says the mom, who waited at the foot of the climb while her children made it to the top. And that was OK with her. They saw many of the natural wonders of New Zealand. When they got to a stupendous waterfall, the kids climbed a trail to the top of it; the parents waited below. When there was a chance to swim with dolphins, the kids got into wet suits; the parents didn't.

But that doesn't mean they didn't love the trip--and the uniqueness of traveling the way 20-somethings travel. "If we were leading it," she says, "we would have had a culture clash--we would have just gone to see sights."

Although there were uncomfortable moments, the trade offs made up for it. They stayed in hostels--the kids in dorm rooms; the parents in a private room ("bare bones but clean"). They had to make the beds and bring their own food. Not the way they usually travel, but the hostels were an entree to meeting a lot of young people who were backpacking their way around the world.

They found it easy to give up the control over planning since they had done this once before--letting a son who was living in Israel be their guide on a two-week trip. "He planned everything," says the mom. The main difference between the trips? "He got us nicer accommodations." 

Vacation Togetherness: In tough times, our grown children travel with us.

"In a shaky economy," SmartMoney writes, "young adults are taking more trips with Mom and Dad--who are footing the bill." The travel industry even has a name for the new togetherness: multigenerational or intergenerational vacations.

While the downturned economy may foster more of it--so many well-educated young adults; so few jobs--the mom-and-pop financed vacation isn't anything new. Many of us have been doing it for years and for other reasons--from habit or the desire to indulge our children or for the simple pleasure of their company. But now the travel industry is responding with discount packages that foster family togetherness. The SmartMoney article mentions hotels with special deals [such as grandparents stay free] or tours that cater to intergenerational activities.The most popular: wildlife safaris, Alaskan cruises and trips to the Galapagos.

The article also quotes me and references this blog and my post a few weeks ago on the Daddy Indulgence Curve, which talks about the transition from treating everyone for everything on a vacation to letting them pay their own way.

 

Vacationing Together: The Daddy Indulgence Curve

Back in the day when my children were moving through their college and post-grad years, a colleague at work used to tease me about the many ways Paterfamilias and I made life easier for our grown children--things we did for them that her parents had never done for her. She loved to refer to Paterfamilias as "daddy indulgence."

More recently, I was thinking about her phrase when I was called by a reporter from SmartMoney about a story she was writing about money issues revolving around vacations with grown children. It struck me that as long as we've had children--that is, since they've been babies--we've taken them on vacation with us. It wasn't until they were college age and older that the idea of their paying for all or a piece of that vacation crossed anyone's mind. Certainly, in those post-college years when our children had yet to get career jobs--or were in graduate school--there was no question about who the deep pockets were and who would pay for vacation. If they would deign to join us--skiing over the Christmas holidays or hiking in Vermont in the summer--we would foot the bill. Any significant others on the scene would join us free of charge--that is, they'd bunk in with our kids--but would pay for their own incidentals, such as ski tickets and beer. That was the high point on the daddy indulgence curve. If we didn't indulge, they couldn't afford to join us. And we preferred to have them along.

But when does the Daddy Indulgence curve start to dip down? And how do you get there? Certainly, by the time grown children are in their prime earning years, they should be paying their own way--and we should be making sure that any joint vacation plans are within their means. But there are several years between post-grad and prime.  Do you start by splitting the rent on a condo, having them pay their own airfare to wherever it is you're going, letting them buy groceries? And what if one grown child is more in a position to take on a fair share of the vacation costs but the other isn't? The Daddy Indulgence Curve does not arc smoothly or make a perfect bell. It can live on the rise for one child and his or her family but dip for the other. And how does that make each grown child feel--both the ones who still need a subsidy and those who can pay their own way.

Any one else out there with some experience on the Daddy Indulgence Curve? Can you share how you've handled the ups and downs?

Vacation Togetherness: When is enough, enough?

I read the headline of this Ask Amy column and my first thought was: OMG. One of my children has taken up pen to complain about paterfamilias and me. "Husband wants a break from vacations with in laws," it reads. The letter writer says he is a married man in his early 40s who lives carefully within his means. His in laws live 2,000 miles away, and for the past 10 years, he and his wife and family have gone to visit them twice a year--and that's become a point of argument with his wife. "Am I wrong," he asks, "to want to do something else with my vacation once in a while?"  And, P.S., it only made him feel worse when his in-laws offered to settle the argument by paying his family's airfare.

"Ask Amy" is on his side. "This isn't really about money" she writes. "This is about not wanting to spend every single vacation with your in-laws. And brother, I'm on your side."

Hard to argue with her point or her tone. Are we sometimes tone deaf? Or cling too much to a grown child who has moved far away? Or allow our grown child to cling? Sometimes we can kid ourselves into thinking we're being incredibly generous and helpful--inviting our grown child and family on--and paying for--vacations. Togetherness on vacation is a fine, fine thing. But you can have too much of a fine thing. Certainly, your child's spouse can.

Timing a Visit: How long should a visit to grownchildren and their families be?

Sometimes I wonder why I am so resistant to longer visits with my children [both of whom live in other cities]. I consider myself the master of the Blitzkrieg visit--in on a Saturday morning; out by Sunday evening, with lots of hugs, kisses, and grabbed conversations in between. You're gone before anyone gets on anyone's nerves.

But now, Alpha Daughter has moved to another country for a year--6 time zones away. I'll be going on my first visit there in a few weeks but clearly, the pure Blitzkrieg is out of the question. Nonetheless, I have a variation in mind: in for 2 or 3 days, off to another country to travel and tour, back for another 2 or 3 day visit, then home. I've shared the plan with my daughter--who was home with her child for a two-week visit--and she raised questions about it.  Why, she asked, do I prefer the short visit? After all, she pointed out, a longer one--and we have just been through this very long one successfully [no one got seriously disagreeable]--gives you a chance to get pulled into the daily rhythms of her family, to experience her child in a more personal way and gain greater understanding of their lives, as well as give you more opportunities for meaningful conversations.

What she says was certainly true of our two-week visit. So I think seriously about my short-visit preference. The only honest answer I can come up with is that my mother used to come to visit me for three weeks at a time.  She was intrusive and tried to impose her will on everything from how the house should be cleaned to how my children should be disciplined. How I hated those visits. I had a backache, stomach pain and hives by the time she left. The only plus side to the visits was the euphoria of relief when she left. So I've gone in the opposite direction. But my daughter's question makes me wonder if I'm so busy NOT being my mother that I'm giving up on some of the joys of parenting adult children and getting to know my grandchildren for better and occasionally worse.

Vacationing with Grown Kids: Who's picking up the bill?

Did you catch this column by Carolyn Hax? A grown child--Beachbummed--complains that her parents who have treated for vacations for years, were reluctant to join her when she and her husband rented a place this year. "They apparently are totally creeped out about our paying--they keep listing things they will pay for, like groceries, dinner, tolls--and keep saying they "don't want to intrude." Although she tells her parents they are not intruding--they are invited--they ended up staying for less than two days, hurting their daughter's feelings.

All I can say is, Was one of my children complaining about me? I have been there; done that. This year, when Uber son rented a vacation condo--we usually picked up the tab or, in more recent years, split it--he insisted on paying the rent in full. His argument: he was renting it at a time convenient to him, at a place he preferred, for his family of 5. Since he was setting the terms, he was paying the tab. Paterfamilias had to be disabused of the idea that there was not going to be any splitting of the bill. We tried to kick in our share by buying a lot of the groceries and taking the family out to dinner. Made us feel better. It is hard for us--and for others, like Beachbummed's folks--to sit back and let our kids pay for everything. And there is a sense that we're intruding on their privacy--as opposed to treating them to something they might otherwise not be able to afford.

The Beachbummed daughter wanted to know what she could say to her parents to convince them she and her husband were happy to have them stay for as long as they liked.One reader answered by noting that "my parents treat for everything when we're together. The times they let the "kids" treat is when it's a gift or a thank-you. Beachbummed should say the beach vacation is their way of thanking their parents for all of the family vacations over the years, and the BB and spouse would like them to enjoy the whole week for a change."

For those of us who resist such largess, Hax makes this point in her column's answer--a variation of my Note to Self: Let them treat you to something." Says Hax:"Letting people treat does empower them, while the reverse often infantilizes.

The Power of "No:" Over-indulgence has its limits.

Our grown children may have great expectations about the goods and services we can--and often do--provide. That's' why, a friend says, she felt liberated when she said "no" to one of her children.

It may sound trivial--and clearly this is a parent and grandparent who enjoys indulging her children--but she has her limits. She had arranged for grown daughter and her three children to join her and grandpop for a long winter weekend at a resort in Florida. The grown child pays her family's air fare to Florida but my friend and grandpop foot the resort bill--room, meals, entertainment. They can afford it, and it gives them pleasure. One vacation day, my friend, daughter and granddaughter went shopping. As they passed a pricey children's boutique--the kind only grandmas shop at--my friends daughter told her daughter to go in there and pick out something,that grandma will buy it for her. And that's when my friend said No. "It was a tiny little thing, but I felt liberated. I was finally able to say, 'I'll do this, but not that.' " When she said no, my friend adds, "Chicken little did not fall from the sky."

The question for many of us is along the same line: How many times do we pull out the credit card or send the check because our kids make us feel it's expected? Even when we can afford it, are there times when we should say "no," when enough is enough?  

The Just Say No extends to matters beyond money. When we're expected to babysit--even tho we have other plans; when they want to come by for a visit--even though it's inconvenient. Many of us drop everything--cancel plans with friends, rearrange our schedules. Sometimes we should--our kids genuinely need us and the loving service only we can provide. But sometimes there's a feeling that they are taking advantage of us, that we still have an active life we're leading and can't drop everything just to make things more convenient for them. As my friend says, "It's a very interesting process to begin to do this."

Traveling in Asia: Sharing your trip with the grandkids

Paterfamilias and I have returned from our trip to Vietnam. We are still recovering from jet lag and the challenges of dealing with the impenetrable language [they use the same alphabet as we do but not the same pronunciation of the letters], the different culture [this was our first trip to a country not dominated by Western language and thought], the traffic [hundreds of thousands of motorbikes; no traffic lights!] and the climate [hot and hotter in the south, though it was winter].

While we were there, we decided we would share the trip with our Grands. Almost every hotel we stayed at--from the shabby place in the Mekong Delta to the spiffy hotel in Ho Chi Minh City [Saigon] to the business-like hotel in Hanoi--had a computer with access to the Internet. So every evening before we went out to dinner we sat down at the computer and distilled the day for our Grands--filtering the day's activities to focus on what a 6-, 7- and 8-year old would find interesting.

So, we gave them our rules for crossing the streets [if there's a Vietnamese person crossing, go with them. If not, wade into the traffic and walk across it at a stately, measured pace; do not look at the traffic--it will terrify you and make you stop in your tracks and that would be a dangerous thing to do.] We told them how hard it was to speak VIetnamese [Nguyen is pronounced Win; Thu is pronounced Toe; Thuy is pronounced Twee--and that doesn't account for having one of 8 accents on the vowel]. We told them how sweet and friendly the children were [When we were bike riding in rural Mekong Delta, kids would run over and call out, "Hallo, Hallo." One little boy jumped on his bike, rode over to us and called out, "Hallo, Hallo. Good Afternoon," and rode away laughing merrily.] We would describe an ancient temple or tomb we saw and give them Internet links to it. When we moved from city to city, we encouraged them to get their maps out and follow our progress from the south of the country to the north and then over to Cambodia.

One of the wonderful things about emailing about the country and culture we were experiencing was getting an occasional email back--either a question from one of the Grands or a comment from one of our grown children to the effect of how much they were enjoying the reports and the details. In our last email, the day we were leaving to fly back home, one of the Grands is reported to have said, "Oh no. They're coming home. Does this mean no more emails?"

Bottom line:The feeling of inclusion with our children and their children while we were far from home was beyond wonderful. We were still connected.