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

Graduation Day: Traditions in the time of Covid

Middle- and High School graduations are in high season. Some schools are providing zoom-only events--grandparents can watch from the comfort of their home screens. But with the weather warmed up and the outdoors deemed safe by the CDC, the in-person event is also happening. And we're allowed to attend.

School rules vary but last weekend our granddaughter graduated from a school that was able to hold an in-person outdoor ceremony. Not that it fit all the traditional markers. Each graduate could have six people sit in their pod--six chairs huddled together and set at least six feet from other pods.

The pods were well spaced not only from each other but from the "podium" and from where the graduating seniors were seated in chairs six feet apart. Everything was spread out for health-spacing purposes, which meant that our pods were far from the action. (The equivalent of the nose-bleed section.) Still, we were there. When the graduates walked in (traditional Pomp and Circumstances on speaker system) it was hard to tell one student from the other--the gowns, the caps, the distance. 

A pre-ceremony email set out the rules of attendance:  Masks on the way in; masks on the way out. No socializing with other families before or after: Deliver your child, listen to speeches, watch your child receive their diploma and then take them home.

The sun was shining. It was a hot and beautiful day where the breeze was just enough to ensure covid-safety, especially with everyone masked and most guests and graduates vaccinated. Socializing happened. How could it not? Of course, we were from out of town so we knew no one to socialize with. We could watch as our daughter and her family met her child's friends and their families. How pleasant it was for them. How joyful. A major stepping stone in their child's (and our grandchild's)  life: Achieved.

To be honest, there were moments when we the grandparents felt like hangers-on--a bit left out. Was it the recognition that we are no longer center stage. Our children and their children have the starring roles now. As they should. But it wasn't that. A year of no in-person visiting had left us in an information vacuum.  We hadn't been around to pick up the small details about friendships made and the small triumphs and disappointments of our grandchild's year. The things too minor to mention in a zoom call but in the air when you visit in person. That's why at a celebratory dinner with our daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter we had trouble following the conversation about our grandchild's various friends and what they would be doing this summer, about the funny challenges of the senior year, about the underlying meaning of the valedictory's speech.

Was it worth the trip? You bet. We are so fortunate to be around and healthy enough to make the trip. It's what we do. We wouldn't have missed it. Especially when, as we were walking back from a morning-after shot of coffee, my daughter said, "It meant so much to all of us that you were here."

We're the audience that takes notice. We're a necessary part of the on-going play.

photo: graduation day, June 5, 2021

Anger Provocateurs: When relatives play favorites with our adult children.

Hell hath no fury like a parent whose child has been treated unfairly by others. Or whose close relative favors one of their children over another. A wave of inchoate anger rises even when the children are adults and making their way in the world.

A Social Qs column churned up this barrel of hurt. A reader wrote Philip Galanes that her sister, who had been relatively estranged from the reader's family, "made a large cash gift to my eldest daughter, who is a doctor, and gave nothing to my younger children, who earn less." The reader, who noted that she and her sister had been raised in a home filled with "unhealthy competition," asked Galanes if she could speak to her sister about this painful show of favoritism or should she let it go.

Galanes advised the reader not to raise the issue with her sister "unless you're prepared to rehash the dynamics of your childhood."

Check in with your kids instead. Ask them how they feel about this. You may be surprised to learn that the care you took in treating them equally will pay off now when others don't.

I have my own deeply buried experience with a situation similar to that of the reader's. My brother played a negligible role in my children's lives--he never called or sent a card on a birthday or attended any events that marked passages of their childhood. . Then suddenly he decided to show up for my daughter's graduation from an Ivy League school. He showered her with a large cash gift and took her and her roommates out to dinner. The next year, when my son graduated from a lower-profile college, my brother was a no-show and a non-acknowledger (no congratulatory phone call or note to say nothing of a gift) of the important passage in his nephew's life.

I like to think it was all about my brother's ego: He was dazzled by the Ivy League; it wasn't a personal statement about my son. Nonetheless, it stung.

So, lo these many years later, I took Galanes advice and asked my children about my brother and his track record with their college graduations. (I couldn't talk to my brother about it; he died several years ago.)  My daughter, well past her graduation days, remembered the discomfort of an uncle with whom she was not close paying so much attention to her and her friends and treating them so lavishly. She reminded me that neither she nor her brother "had a relationship with him and that's kind of sad. But I remember how mad you were."

My son brushed it off. He barely remembers any role my brother did or didn't have in his graduation.

So I guess the pain is all on me--and that's as it should be. Galanes is right on this count: Like the reader, much of my anger was not just at the way my brother treated my children but related back to the dynamics of my childhood.

Hell's fury might be when those dynamics are visited on your children, but the upside is that my children don't have the emotional overlay to be scarred by it.  

painting: Paul Klee, View from Red

 

Re-nesting: Adult children moving back home--here and abroad

Remember the bad old days and the effect on our grown children of the Great Recession (2008+). Remember stories about the worst old days and their effect on families during the Great Depression (1929+)? Well, the Pandemic Retrenchment (2020+) has, like those past economic disasters, brought many of our adult children home again. They're camping out with us--by themselves or with significant others; job hunting or working remotely, or re-assessing their future. The nest is refilled--like it or not. A Pew Research Center survey found the share of 18- to 29-year-olds living with their parents is now a majority of that age group and a larger majority than the past Recession or Depression.

All of which is a long way of saying, if your adult children have reclaimed their childhood bedrooms or are sleeping on a couch in the basement, you're not alone.

Not only aren't you alone, but we here in this country also aren't alone either. Across the Atlantic in Great Britain, the Centre for Research in Social Policy reported last fall "nearly two-thirds of childless single adults aged 20-34 in the UK have either never left or have moved back into the family home." 

They've hung some numbers on it and some commentary on implications for the future:

Around 3.5 million single young adults in the UK are estimated to live with their parents, an increase of a third over the past decade, and a trend that is likely to accelerate as the economic and social impact of the coronavirus pandemic deepens.

The so-called “boomerang” phenomenon – young adults returning to their parents’ home until well into their 20s or early 30s – is now a permanent feature of UK society and likely to trigger a profound rethink of how many families live their lives.

Here's the word from one of the chief researchers:

“Children living at home well into their 20s is not a temporary phenomenon, it’s here to stay...A lot of young people will spend most of a decade of their lives living like this.”

The numbers here are bigger, of course, and surprisingly well-spread. Pew reports:

In July 26.6 million  or 52 percent of young adults resided with one or both of their parents, up from 24 million or 47 percent in February. The increase was evident for all major racial and ethnic groups, men and women, and metropolitan and rural residents, as well as in all four main census regions. Growth was sharpest among the youngest age group, ages 18 to 24, and White young adults.

The question for those of us with refilled nests is, how do we cope? I'll tune into advice on that in future blogs. Meanwhile, here's one generic guide to the basics. It covers five pointers:

• Understand the Situation
• Don't Spend Your Retirement
• Agree on a Time Limit
• Remember Whose Roof You're All Living Under
• Accept That Your Child Isn't a Kid Anymore

photo: Maia Lemov

Post-Vaccine Adventures: Grammie and PopPop get their hugs

There is some confusion about what we can and can't do unmasked, how we should or shouldn't behave in close-together spaces. That confusion gets mixed in with social anxiety. As we inch toward the full opening of a post-pandemic world, a lot of us are nervous about how we'll navigate our former social lives. Going unmasked to a neighbor's outdoor barbecue party may be allowed (if you're vaccinated) but many of us are no longer used to socializing in groups larger than two people.

What it means is that a lot of us are tiptoeing into the re-opening world. But there's one place where we're jumping right in: We are visiting our children in person and getting hugs from our grown kids and grandkids. The Instagram and media photos I've seen of parents reuniting with children or grandchildren exude the simple pleasure of a warm hug.

For those of us who live far from our grown kids and grandkids, the hugs have been slower to arrive  but they're coming. We're going to get them. A lot has changed since I wrote this post in March when public health experts warned against air travel.

Paterfamilias and I take off on an airplane in a few weeks. We're vaccinated so we're no longer worried about the perils of catching Covid on the flight or at the airport. Our destination: Our daughter's house. Our expectation: XOXOXO non-stop plus the joy of watching a granddaughter graduate from high school--outdoors with distanced seating in pods. (We're not totally back-to-normal yet.)

All hail vaccinations. It's making what seemed impossible last summer (and even two months ago) possible and probable.

How do we "old folks" feel about these hugfests? The consensus was captured in this reporting from a Washington Post story:

Among the many who have endured long separations, the first highly anticipated reunions are finally taking place. For grandparents in particular, the need to guard against covid-19 has been weighed against the yearning to be close to children and grandchildren, and an acute awareness of the time being lost. But now, with the arrival of vaccines, dates are circled on calendars, flights are booked, plans are made.

After picking up his young children from an overnight visit with their grandmother--a visit delayed by a year due to Covid--a father told the reporter:

“It was like old times — they didn’t want to come home. Things are starting to feel really different from how it’s been, finally, and I’m really happy about that.”

Hug on.

 

Leaving a Legacy: A push to get our storytelling act together

I have been working on a memoir for several years--writing sections, taking breaks, losing heart, returning to the work.  Anyone who's tried crafting anything personal knows what I'm talking about: So easy to lose confidence and stall out. The memoir is about my career--a legacy for my grandkids so they can know the times and culture we (my generation) worked our way up and through.

This Mother's Day a gift from my daughter is setting me on a parallel legacy path. The gift is called StoryWorth. Naturally, since my daughter is of her generation, it's digital. I receive an email each week with a prompt for something to write about--the prompts chosen or posed by my daughter. After a year, all the essays (or a sentence or whatever I write) and any photos I add are collected into a "book." My daughter sees each "story" after I write it and can comment. 

What an experience. The first question: How did you feel when your first child was born?

I wrote about it this morning and I haven't yet returned from my trip down memory lane. Recalling that day--that moment in my life; the birthing practices of the time--and sharing details I had almost forgotten with my child and her family has left me feeling both weepy and joyful. She says she felt the same way when she read my remembrance--it was her birth, after all.

StoryWorth is only one means to an end. What a gift we give each other when we take the time to dig deep into our memories and share our stories. It's our most meaningful legacy to our children and their children. Why not be here to enjoy it.

painting: Matisse

Observation: The profound value of mothers to their adult daughters

 

As Mother's Day nears, what more touching message could we hear than this one from author Abigail Tucker via an e-newsletter from NYTimes staff editor, Sarah Wildman.

Only human females and a handful of long-lived whales have a lengthy life phase when reproduction ends and the time arrives to pitch in with the grandkids,” Tucker explains in the piece, which is adapted from her newly published book “Mom Genes: Inside The New Science of Our Ancient Maternal Instinct. This all-hands (or all flippers) approach to ensuring your genetic legacy apparently pays dividends.”It turns out that a grandmother’s help can have a profound impact on a new mother’s well-being, on the success of her pregnancy and even on how her children thrive.

During the pandemic, even those mothers who live close to their own mothers have often been forced to be distant. For many others — like me — who live hours apart, this time has caused us to reconsider why we don’t live close enough to continue to be mothered well into adulthood. It’s not just wishful thinking; as Tucker explains, there’s a science to our sense of need.

painting of mother and daughter: Berthe Morisot

 

 

 

Great Expectations: Anger and our grown children (Part 1)

We've all been there--gotten annoyed at our grown children. Maybe it was for not returning our text promptly, or forgetting their sister's birthday, or taking time off when they should have been buckling down at work. Or just plain not doing things the way we have always done them. Whatever. However much we love them, we can also be angry at them and hurt and disappointed.

What to do about it? One answer is to lower expectations. In a column, Carolyn Hax answers a reader whose son never drives the two hours to visit his mom and dad for major holidays (he goes to his in-laws who live nearby). He refuses to come to his father's yearly family reunion ("too far in advance to commit") or to her mom's 90th birthday party ("not enough notice"). The reader is angry, hurt and depressed about his stand-offishness.

Here's the essence of Hax's silver bullet:

Adjust your plans to reflect reality. Expect delayed replies, holidays without your son, occasional daunting travel.

Learn to recognize that what we get from people, over time, represents pretty accurately what they’re willing to give.

Enjoy what they give you, period. Stare down disappointment with gratitude.

and this

Acceptance — be it of mildly annoying unanswered texts or of heartbreaking distance — can feel like the breaking point of a relationship. Often, though, it’s the beginning of a better one.

Why? Because it is just not human nature to rush to see people who only complain or make sad eyes at us for not responding enough or visiting enough or caring enough or giving enough. Quite the contrary; we tend to pull away harder.

So if you miss your son, then lay off wanting more of him. ...Whether this creates new connections or improves your problematic old ones, it’s a win either way.

 

Supporting Adult Children: We've shifted with the times

Who says we're stuck in the old ways of doing things? Our roles as grandparents have been keeping step with the times. There's a study with lots of data to show how we've shifted the way we help our grown children and the impact that's had on our grandkids.

Teresa Cooney, who analyzed data from a parent survey, compared parental support for their adult children in the 1980s-90s to more recent times. Thirty or 40 years ago parents were more likely to help out married children as opposed to adult children who lived with their partners without being married or were single parents. What that says is that, along with the culture, we've become more accepting of the many configurations that make up our notions of what a family is.

If we're tilting our resources towards our adult children who are single parents it's not surprising. They tend to have fewer resources than married‐couple families. At the same time, we tend to have more resources--not just the financial means but the time to help out; that is, to make our presence a positive factor in our children's and grandchildren's lives.

Here's Cooney's bottom line:

Grandparental support appears responsive to the needs of their adult children. Nontraditional families no longer receive less extended‐family support. Grandparents today appear to play an important support role for their children's families.

Can't put a price on the return on that investment.

painting: William Chase, A Friendly Visit

Grandparenting: Play is more than play when we play with our grandkids

For years one of my granddaughters and I had a favorite game: I would be the "doctor," her stuffed animals the patients. One by one she would bring them to me, tell me what was wrong with them and assist while I treated them for, say, a broken leg or a tummy ache. I loved the game. Not only was it precious time together, but I hoped to gain insight via stuffed-animal aches and pains into the little things she worried about as she grew from toddler to pre-schooler to a kindergartner.  I'm not sure we ever reached the insight stage, but we had our little game and we loved playing it together.

One of the many advantages of being a Nana or PopPop is that we are free to play with our grandkids, often to the exclusion of the things we had to do as parents--overseeing their homework, driving them to soccer practice or imposing discipline. While play is responsibility-free, there's more to it than that, according to this article in Grand, an online magazine. We're enhancing our grandchildren's lives as well as our own plus we're forced to keep ourselves current.

Here's author Judith Van Hoorn's take on that:

Another characteristic of play is the age difference between the players. When we think of preschoolers, school-aged children, or teenagers playing, we often imagine them playing with friends their age. The most common exception is playing within families where we see people of different ages playing together. And, with grandparent and grandchild play, the age difference is usually the greatest.

What might that mean for grandparents in terms of what we play and how we play? To begin with, we have to adapt our play styles to one another. For example, we need to update our repertoire of songs, stories, books, and movie plotlines, and definitely update the names of popular superheroes and princesses.

Here's looking at you WandaVision.

 

 

Observation: Carolyn Hax on what to do if a grown child pushes you away.

The comforting way to put it is that our grown kids need space. But the far end of that need can play out in a way that translates into "they don't want us around."

In answer to a reader's complaint that her daughter won't take her phone calls, discourages her from visiting (even though she's now vaccinated) and otherwise is putting a lot of distance between mother and daughter, Carolyn Hax addressed the estrangement issue. The thrust of her advice for mending a rift, be it between mother and daughter or any other meaningful relationship, is to become a good listener.

If I start listing reasons grown children estrange themselves from their parents, I’ll still be typing when the next pandemic hits.

What matters is that you become a better listener, stat: “You’ve been saying no [to phone calls and visits], and I’ve been so caught up in changing your mind that I forgot to listen. I’m sorry. I will take no for an answer and stop pushing. I’m here when you’re ready. And, if I haven’t said so already or enough, thank you for being so good about putting the kids on FaceTime with us.”

This might leave you feeling resentful, as if you’re the one doing all the sacrificing here. That’s a common complaint when I recommend a full retreat — but it’s also a trap. It tempts you into looking for fairness when fairness doesn’t apply; reality is in control. And reality says you can’t make your daughter do anything (in fact, it’s probably tired of repeating itself), whether fairness demands it or not. You can work only on your side of the problem.

So, you offer her respect, space, grace — and give yourself the best chance of mending the breach.

painting: Rebecca Lemov

Covid, Kids and the Comfort of a Hug: Is it safe to travel to see our kids and grandkids?

The headlines have been reassuring: "Grandparents are getting to hug their grandkids for the first time after getting vaccinated."

Well, that's fine for grandparents who live near their grandkids or within driving distance. Those of us who have to fly--well, that's another story. In the best of all possible worlds, we should hold off on airplane travel unless it's absolutely necessary.  Does a hug qualify? Our public health gurus tell us, Don't do it unless you must, even if you're fully vaccinated. Maybe by summer when even more people are vaccinated (and a fourth wave either doesn't rise or is under control)  it might be safer to go.

We're making plans to see both our grown kids and their kids later this spring and again this summer. We'll fly, as we did last fall.  This article spells out what we can expect if we take to the air.  Here's what I learned from it and from others:

It will be more crowded and busier than it was in September 2020 when we took our "see the kids" trip. Planes will be fuller. Delta is still blocking middle seats but that's only through April and may change for May and beyond. Other airlines are filling all seats on their flights. So we may be sitting cheek-and-jowl again. Here we go, back to normal but in way that we wish would be back better.  word.

Airlines required (but didn't enforce) masks when we flew in the fall.  The current Transportation Security Administration has mandated masks at airports and on airplanes through May 11; airlines have become stricter about enforcing their own mask-up rules. A T.S.A. spokesperson said it was too soon to say what will happen after the May date but given airline mask requirements, the rise of a fourth wave and the variants that are around, face coverings are likely to be required for the seeable future. Given concerns about that fourth surge and President Biden's plea to wear masks, we''ll probably double mask while traveling.  Just to be sure.

At the height of the pandemic, most airlines stopped food and drink service. They may start again--at least with beverages and snacks. What happens to our masks when and if the airlines roll those drink carts down the aisles? Can't eat or sip a soda with a mask on, so what do we do if we're thirsty or hungry? We may have to mask between bites.

Most food concessions remain closed at many airports--though that may loosen up as vaccination totals climb. When we flew in September, there were one or two concessions available to buy food. We ate our lunch while we waited to board the plane. The airport was eerily empty so we had plenty of space to ourselves. If more passengers show up at airports, concessions may begin to reopen and socially distanced space may be harder to find.

When we get to our destination there's the question of whether, even though we're vaccinated, we can carry and spread the virus to our loved ones. The research so far is unclear, though it leans toward non-spread.  Some of us may luck out in that our grown children may be vaccinated by the time we travel--and therefore immune from anything we pick up during our travels. Our New York State kids already have appointments for jabs. If we put off our trip till their second shots take root, we can visit with them in their home with fewer precautions--and more hugs. 

painting: Renoir, Oarsmen at Chatou

 

 

Covid, Us and Our Grown Kids: We're a luckier generation.

With the possible exception of newborns, I can't think of an age group that hasn't suffered terribly during the pandemic. Certainly, school-age and college-age children have had their worlds turned upside down; many are struggling with mental health issues from social isolation and screen-learning difficulties. Young adults may have lost a year of finding a career and an independent lifestyle. Older adult children may have had their careers curtailed, their job safety undone, their incomes lost.

Our generation is at the further end of the generational arc. Many of us are retirees or older parents who may still be working but whose careers are no longer on the mega-growth path. Overall, we seem to be doing better than our grown kids and grandkids. We were starting to slow down anyway; the pandemic accelerated that trendline. So long as income hasn't been an issue, we've suffered mainly from isolation and the inability to hug our grandkids or enjoy the pleasure of having an adult child drop by for an in-person visit.

I'm not the only one to think our generation has been luckier than others in this pandemic. Surveys over the last year show that, despite being at higher risk of contracting Covid and suffering severe complications,  we've managed to stay relatively happier than younger generations.

Why is that? Here's what researchers at Stanford University's Center on Longevity, who surveyed some 1,000 adults, aged 18 to 76, reported:

Age was associated with relatively greater emotional well-being both when analyses did and did not control for perceived risk and other covariates. The present findings extend previous research about age and emotion by demonstrating that older adults’ relatively better emotional well-being persists even in the face of prolonged stress.

In other words,  compared with young adults, people aged 50 and over score consistently higher, or more positively, on a  variety of daily emotions. We tend to experience more positive emotions in a given day and fewer negative ones than the generation of our adult children.

 

In a similar study, psychologists at the University of British Columbia exhaustively surveyed some 800 adults of all ages in the first couple of months of the pandemic and found the same thing.

Their investigation of  daily life amid the outbreak, found,

Older age was associated with less concern about the threat of Covid-19, better emotional well-being, and more daily positive events.

There's more than curiosity associated with the findings of this research. It has policy implications.  As Susan Charles, a professor of psychology at the University of California, Irvine, told the New York Times,

“I think the older generation now, as much as it’s been threatened by Covid, they’re beginning to say, ‘My life is not nearly as disrupted as my children’s or grandchildren’s,' and that is where our focus on mental well-being should now turn.”

 

Downsizing: Our housing decisions are emotional ones for our children

There comes a time when the kids are grown and the house we raised them in is too big, too much to maintain, a burden to carry or a source of little and big repair bills. The roof might need replacing. The driveway is cratering. The washer and dryer are aging out. Or all of the above.

We were ready to sell the home we lived in for 43 years and move to something easier. Plus, we wanted to try an urban lifestyle.

We were ready to move out and on, but were our children? They have been living far from us with families and homes of their own. So why would we even think they mattered in our decision to sell.

We checked in with them anyway. The house was where they grew up--their story of origin. Even as they became independent and moved to other parts of the country and world, the house was there as a refuge--a safety net. When they married and started families, they brought their children to the house to show them where they grew up, what their life was like when they were young. They took pleasure in showing them a secret passageway between rooms, the hill on the driveway where they practiced kicking a soccer ball. It wasn't just our children who were attached to the house. One of our grandchildren spent enough time visiting us there that she became friendly with the girls across the street and knew every dog that lived nearby.

It would have taken an emotionally persuasive argument for our children to change our minds about selling the family manse. They had no desire to do so. They were behind the move. But a day before we closed on the sale, they both flew home--without spouses or children--to say goodbye to the house and the neighborhood and to reminisce about the riches of the family life we had known there.

This visit happened nearly five years ago, but the memory of it came flooding back as I was reading Claire Tomalin's "brisk and sparkling" biography of Jane Austen. Tomalin wrote about the effect on the Austen children (all of them adults) of their parents' decision to leave Steventon, the home where Jane and her brothers and sisters were born and raised. (Jane and her older sister, Cassandra, still lived with their parents.)

Jane was greatly distressed [by the news.]....[A niece] was told her Aunt Jane fainted. The whole thing was a shock, and a painful one.

All the Austen children were affected by it. The fact that every one of them who was absent and could possibly return to Steventon--[four of Jane's brothers]--made a point of doing so before their parents left--"while Steventon is ours,' as Jane put it--suggests how much they felt it as the closing of a door on their childhood and the end of a way of life."

painting: Edward Hopper

Observation: Philip Galanes on when to give our children advice about parenting our grandchildren

Philip Galanes of Social Qs recently tackled a query by a worried grandma. Her 6-year-old grandchild was struggling at school and having temper tantrums. "His parents and teacher are working hard with him," she wrote but the writer's son was giving his son's teacher monthly cash gifts.  Grandma asked Galanes, "Is this right?"

Galanes made short shrift of the gift-giving. Since most school districts have rules about gifts to teachers, "Let's assume...that your grandson's teacher and parents know the rules in their district."

His more telling piece of advice applies to all of us who are tempted to intervene in the way our adult children parent their children:

"Rules are important. But no one asked for your advice here."

 

Communication Skills: Keeping conversations with grownkids and grandkids fresh

Keep up your own interests. That's one of my Notes to Self (see list to the right). My point when I added it to My Notes was--and still is--that the more we continue to pursue our interests (apart from our children's lives) the livelier our conversations with our grown children and our grandchildren will be. We won't be hounding them with deadly questions like "What's new?" We'll have something to bring to the table and talk about. The energy we get from actively pursuing a job, project or Zoom lecture will freshen up both us and our interactions.

I was reminded of this by Kathy Gottberg. In a blog post she took note of a book, A Brief Eternity—The Philosophy of Longevity by Pascal Bruckner, an author who has written a ton of books critiquing society and culture. Deep stuff. Gottberg admits the book is a tough slog that wades its way through deeply philosophical waters. To save us the work of wading, she sums up what she gleaned from the book. As I read her post, I was reminded of my Note to Self and how what Bruckner via Gottberg has to tell us about this stage in our lives is ever-relevant.

Here's an excerpt from Gottberg's post:

If I had to boil down this complex study into a short paragraph I would ask:  Now that we typically live longer and have been given an extension to our lives, what do we want to do with it?  Calling this extra time an “Indian Summer,” Bruckner claims that all the great questions of the human condition appear in the years after we turn 50 including:

• Is it more important to us to live a long time or more intensely?
• Do we carry on as we have always done or try new things and follow new paths?
• Do we find new love? Leave old ones? Start new careers?
• How do we move beyond great joys and great pains—and keep going?
• How can we avoid the weariness of living, the melancholy of the twilight years?
• What is the strength that keeps us going despite bitterness and excess?

Buckner offers insights found in the form of literature, philosophy, the arts as well as his own observations.  Peppered throughout the text are lines that illustrate his ideas and offer insights that kept me reading.  For example he asks: “What reasons can we give for living fifty, sixty or seventy years? Exactly the same ones we give for living to twenty, thirty or forty.  Existence remains delicious to those who cherish it, odious to those who curse.”

In another place he says, “What remains to be done when we think we’ve seen everything, experienced everything? Constantly beginning over…Life goes on: that frightfully simple sentence is perhaps the secret of a happy longevity.”  And another statement dear to my heart, “We are always living on a trial basis; existence is above all an experiment.”

painting: Two Women, Degas

 

 

Observations: We are unique as grandparents.

In Lisa Carpenters book, she has an important reminder for us all: Each of us is unique and we bring different gifts to our grandchild and to our grandmothering role. Here's how Lisa puts it:

 Grandmothers cannot be pigeonholed. Every grandmother is a unique blend of intentions, interests, beliefs, behaviors, skills and stories. The only commonality: They love their grandchildren.

Realizing that no grandmother fits the stereotype assured me that I did, indeed, have what it takes to be a grandma. I just needed to be true to myself and define the role on own terms, in my own way.

Re-filled nests: Our adult children have moved in. They don't like it either.

No matter how difficult it may be for us to host our grown children in our once-empty nests--and the pandemic has increased the number of us in that position--let's have a little compassion for them. Their childhood home may be physically comfortable, they may be well-fed and free of financial burdens, but psychically it's a downer.

Some of them had been living independently or were on the path to being on their own. Now, they're not and that feels like a reversal of fortune. Here's how a psychology professor  explains it:

“There’s a sense that ‘going back’ should not be happening.” They were on a trajectory toward living their lives in “a broader context.” This means constructing identities that are “independent from their families, schools and neighborhoods of their childhood.”

With the pandemic, those trajectories suddenly shifted to reverse for many young people. If they’re also feeling a sense of failure related to job loss, these emerging adults might experience a “feeling of betweenness.” That is, “They’re connected to their parents, yet they’re trying to be independent.” This can be very difficult to accomplish when you’re all under the same roof.

As one young woman told a Washington Post reporter, “The situation is full of stress, even when you’re the most fortunate person in the world. ” The biggest challenge “is just the fact that they are my parents. They are always going to be parenting, no matter how old I am.”

This is a reflection of the social and familial challenges the pandemic has unleashed, with 52 percent of young adults now living with their parents. This is the highest percentage since the end of the Great Depression.

Until we're all vaccinated and the economy has picked back up, our adult kids may be under our roof a while longer. Can we make it easier on and for them? A little. In addition to establishing house rules and personal routines with the boundaries that brings, it helps to give each other alone time--physical space where we and they can breathe without interruption or oversight. It's back to hands-off parenting, of being barely seen and practically unheard.

painting: Renoir, Madame et ses enfants

 

 

Vaccine Hunters: Who can helm our search for Covid protection?

I got a shot today. My state tells me I am of an age where I qualify for the Covid vaccine. My husband I--both recovered Covid patients--had hoped to go together for shots. We signed onto various pre-register websites, but it became increasingly challenging (that us, impossible) for us to find and make reservations for shots at the same time and place--no less for even one of us to get a shot. Yesterday, I received an "invitation" from one of the lists to make a vaccine reservation for the next day. My husband, on the same list, did not get an invite. Go figure.  Since the vaccine site was only 2 miles from our home, I decided to accept the invite and continue working on an invite for him, somewhere, somehow.

Some friends of ours have managed the "together" feat (see this post ) even though it's meant driving an hour or two each way. The appointments came courtesy of a technological lift from their grown children. What I saw happening with a handful of friends turns out to be a nationwide phenomenon. Adult children, who are more nimble than their parents with their phones, laptops and iPads, are finding places and times for mom and dad to get immunized. 

How universal is this phenomenon? One New York resident reported to the Washington Post, "My group texts have really shifted from swapping horror stories about managing kids in virtual learning to getting vaccination appointments for our parents." 

I consider myself moderately adept on the Internet--I use my desk and laptop computers for writing, editing, researching and communicating. I use my smartphone and iPad to zoom into courses and meetings; I can even set up a short meeting. But when I read about the manipulation of multiple devices that the younger generation executes in their search for parental vaccine shots, I realize I am way below novice grade.

Here's what one daughter did to secure shots for her parents: She learned a supermarket in her parents' county was going to schedule 1,500 vaccinations and would open its website for appointments at 6 in the morning. At 5:55 she had the website open on her laptop and "fired up a second page, this one in incognito mode. Then she pulled up two more browsers on her phone. 'I'm using my thumb on my phone and flipping between pages, and clicking through on the computer.' "

She lost me at "incognito mode."

Another recent report took note of how a lack of access to computers and smartphones is shutting out many seniors who are eligible for shots. The main way to book an appointment is by the Internet. There is a phone number to call but good luck getting through. That makes older parent totally dependent on their adult children to help them out.

There has long been a technological gap between generations-- oil lamps to electric lights; radio to television. (For a fun look at adjustments to new technologies, see Doonesbury on bringing Joanie, Zonk and others into a zoom room.) It's just that in the pandemic world, the stakes are too high not acknowledge our Internet illiteracy. If we have to tap into our kids or grandkids to bridge that gap, we are lucky we have them and they are there for us.

 

Covid, Grown Kids and Technology: Our kids help us through the hard parts--even from afar.

My sample may be small but here's what I see happening: Many of my friends who have managed to get their arms in the way of a covid vaccination have had the aid and assistance of their grown children.  Their kids became their vaccination hunters. Makes sense: Our kids have more Internet savvy, online search skills and knowledge of different platforms. They're finding hot spots where a vaccine shot can be had--and booking reservations for their vaccine-eligible parents as soon as they spot an opening. No waiting around to talk it over. Everything takes place on Internet time, folks. One set of friends had to drive an hour from their home to get their first shot and a reservation for a second one; another went to a state where their son lived. They admit they couldn't have managed the sophisticated search it took to find a slot, figure out the eligibility rules and make a reservation on their own.

Here's something else, and it's something I've experienced personally: When, despite the masking and social distancing and handwashing, we nonetheless fall ill from Covid, our kids are there to manage information, health providers and other services--from afar but with their superior smartphone skills. After my husband and I both became ill (and tested positive) our kids boned up on everything Covid--calling their medical friends, reading CDC guidelines and gathering information from a variety of sites. With their dad in the hospital and me fogged-out and sick at home, they called the hospital for updates, talked to our doctors, asked questions about our care and overnighted oxygen measuring devices. They threatened to drive down here and were coordinating that effort when I got wind of it and rallied enough to yell "No."  After all, there is nothing they could do for either their dad or me that they couldn't do by phone from the safety of their homes. Or as the hospitalist doctor treating their dad told them: "The only thing you can do if you come down here is get Covid."

It was an odd feeling to have my kids calling our doctors instead of the other way around (as it was when they were young.) This wasn't them being parents who were telling us what we could or should do in the pandemic (as discussed in this post); it was them stepping up to take care of their parents who were ill and needed someone to take over for a few days.

My husband turned out to have a mild case of Covid-19 and was home in three days; I too had a mild case. But I can tell you, mild though it was, Covid is nasty. A month later we're much better but still not tip-top--not yet as fit as we were before we got sick.

We do have something positive from our experience: The comfort of knowing our children were willing and more than able to step up and take care of us--and from afar.

photo credit: Maia Lemov

 

 

New Grandparents: Do we have babynaming rights?

Many of us have been proactive when it comes to our handles as grandparents. We feel free to tell our kids--the parents of our grandbabies--what we would like to be called.  Whether it's PopPop or Nana or something we make up--I've chosen PenPen--it doesn't feel intrusive or controlling to choose our name.

But the naming ends there. Where we need to tread more cautiously is when it comes to choosing the baby's name. We can make suggestions; perhaps, pass on to our children reminders of family traditions. But we are at our peril if we persist in trying to sway our children in their choice.

“Names are all about identity. The name the parents choose is central to who the child is and will be, and grandparents feel very invested in that,”  said Pamela Redmond, chief executive of  Nameberry  and co-author of books on baby names. Although we may hope to see a family name carried on, or would like one that reaches into our family's culture, our children may have other ideas. When they act on those ideas, we may feel that “the link to their ancestry is broken,” Redmond said, in an article by Paula Span in the NYTimes.

Some of the points covered in Span's article:

Discomfort with the "new" names:

We have our own notions of appropriateness and a probably misguided sense that our grandchildren’s names reflect on us. So when our children creatively come up with Nevaeh (it’s “heaven,” backward) or use the city where the baby was conceived (like Nashua), we bridle.

“If you’re the conservative who named your kids Tom and Emily, and they’re naming their daughter Miles and their son Freedom, it’s like showing up at the country club with blue hair and tattoos,” Ms. Redmond said.

The new normal:

Young parents face a vastly wider assortment of choices than older generations ever considered. New parents may gravitate toward gender-neutral names, for instance. Older generations’ notions about playground taunts have become outdated when kids have such diverse names that a plain vanilla Linda or a mundane Mike may yearn for something more distinctive.

Standing down:

“This is the first stage in grandparents’ realizing that this is not their kid and they don’t have control. They have to step back, and some are good at that and some are terrible.”--Sally Tannen, who has directed parenting and grandparenting workshops at the 92nd Street Y in NYC.

Worst-case scenario:

Clashes over names can backfire, Ms. Tannen pointed out, if they make new parents angry enough to withdraw. Parents serve as the gatekeepers to their children and, as I learned from my conversations, they remember feeling pummeled, even decades later.

Get over it:

“As soon as you’re pregnant, everyone has an opinion” about names, Ms. Tannen has observed. “Once there’s a baby, it would be pretty silly to hold onto that.”

Span writes of one grandfather who was so angry about his children's choice of name for his first grandson that he swore he would never utter the name. "It’s taken a while but, he told me," Span writes, " 'I’m happy to call him whatever he wants to be called.' ”

painting: Mary Cassatt

Daddy Indulgence: If we're guilty of over-helping our young-adult children, is that bad?

Scratch someone who doesn't have children and they'll probably tell you: Too much. That would be in answer to the question: Do parents do more than they should for their adult children. I had a single co-worker who dubbed my husband "Daddy Indulgence" for such "crimes" as paying for our children's college tuition. (We had saved up for it for years.)

My co-worker's teasing was good-natured. (She hoped our kids appreciated the gift.)  But still, the "daddy indulgence" trope persists as a reflex reaction.  There's a reason for its apparent growth recently: Although our children's march toward financial independence moves forward, it's doing so at a slower pace than our generation's.

According to a Pew 2019 survey, financial independence is

"one of the many markers used to designate the crossover from childhood into young adulthood, and it’s a milestone most Americans (64%) think young adults should reach by the time they are 22 years old....But that’s not the reality for most young adults who’ve reached this age.

The reality is: In 1980, roughly one-third of young adults were financially independent by the time they hit age 22; in 2018, that was down to one-fourth. When Pew looked more broadly at young adults ages 18 to 29, though, the survey found financial independence has been largely stable in recent decades, with women closing a gender gap.

There are other markers that suggest our adult children are less independent than we were. Here's Pew again. (This was based on a 2019 survey in those halcyon pre-pandemic days; Covid-19 has likely skewed a lot of the numbers and not in a positive direction):

 Today’s young adults are staying in school longer and are marrying and establishing their own households later than previous generations. A growing share are living in their parents’ homes well into their 20s and even early 30s. (See this Parenting Grown Children post.) Some of these changes are linked to economic challenges, while others may represent a realignment of goals and priorities.

As to the indulgence side of the equation, the Pew survey found we were helping out our kids with the basics-- groceries and housing--plus tuition. 

Aside from the question of whether these 'indulgences" augur good or ill for our adult children, where does the finger of blame point? Pew is quite unequivocal: The majority of the public says, as my co-worker teased, parents do too much for their young-adult children and most parents of adult children disagree.

How do our kids feel about the aid and assistance? Pew asked that question as well. Turns out we're in sync with our kids on this one:

Young adults themselves are largely satisfied with what their parents are doing for them. A majority (65%) say their parents do about the right amount for them – similar to the share of parents of young adults who say they do about the right amount for their kids.

 

Re-Formed Nests: Grown kids are moving back home--a trend with a Covid accelerant.

Ever since the pandemic descended on us in March, there's been a noticeable uptick in an ongoing trend: Our adult kids are moving in with us. For some the reason is financial: the economy crashed and with it, their jobs. For others, it's emotional: the loneliness of living alone in a small apartment under quarantine conditions. For some it's technical: they still have their jobs but they need more robust Internet connections.  And for others it's familial: Their kids are going to school by zoom and there's a need for loving caretakers.

There are a thousand permutations of reasons. One couple hosted their daughter, her husband and their toddler grandchild for a year while the young family sold their city apartment and bought a house in the suburbs.

By September, Pew Research was reporting that the share of 18- to 29-year-olds living with their parents had become a majority, surpassing the previous peak during the Great Depression era.

Here are Pew's numbers:

In July, 52% of young adults resided with one or both of their parents, up from 47% in February. The number living with parents grew to 26.6 million, an increase of 2.6 million from February. The number and share of young adults living with their parents grew across the board for all major racial and ethnic groups, men and women, and metropolitan and rural residents, as well as in all four main census regions. Growth was sharpest for the youngest adults (ages 18 to 24) and for White young adults.

The move back to the comforts of the parental nest was a factor during the Great Recession of a decade ago. At that time, family became an economic refuge for many. Pew says it ran its recent survey because it wanted to see whether young adults again resorted to that “private safety net” amid the pandemic's widespread shutdowns and rough economic conditions.

Here's what they found:

Young adults have been particularly hard hit by this year’s pandemic and economic downturn, and have been more likely to move than other age groups....About one-in-ten young adults (9%) say they relocated temporarily or permanently due to the coronavirus outbreak, and about the same share (10%) had somebody move into their household. Among all adults who moved due to the pandemic, 23% said the most important reason was because their college campus had closed, and 18% said it was due to job loss or other financial reasons.

The vast majority of young adults who live with their parents – 88% – live in their parents’ home, and this group accounts for the growth in the population of adult children living with their parents. Nearly all of the remainder live in their own homes along with their parents, or in homes headed by other family members. These shares have been relatively stable for the past decade.

Not all of us are happy to have our "guest room" reoccupied by adult children who have needs, opinions and lifestyles that may not fit with ours. Then there's the wider world concerns. The effect on the economy could be devastating. Even before the outbreak, the growth in new households trailed population growth and slower household growth could mean less demand for housing and household goods. There also may be a decline in the number of renters and homeowners, and in overall housing activity. Between February and July 2020, the number of households headed by an 18- to 29-year-old declined by 1.9 million, or 12%.

If you'd like to see the trend data in chart form, here's how Pew lays it out:

 

 

Observation: Buddha's comfort for these troubling times

Many of us will not be able to hug our children or grandchildren this holiday week. We may see them on a screen or hear them on a phone but the family traditions we usually observed--hosting a  large family feast; traveling to gather together with grown children and grandchildren--are not safely possible this year. While we say goodbye to the miseries of 2020, hope the new vaccines bring an end to the pandemic in 2021 and wait till this summer (fingers crossed) to be together again with friends and family, I take comfort in this ages-old wisdom:

“In the end, only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.”

— Buddha

 

 

photo credit: Maia Lemov

Holidays Together with Our Kids? Ways to decide how much risk to take.

Our grown children are in their households. We're in ours. We may be in the same city or not. We did whatever we did over Thanksgiving but now the Christmas-New Year holidays are ahead of us. So are worsening pandemic numbers. We all yearn for a "normal" holiday time together. And yet, there is danger in our gathering together.

So here we are again, grappling with the question of how much risk we to take to be with our grown children during the holidays--to say nothing of our siblings, aunts, uncles and close friends.

I've been reading some studies on how our brains work in assessing risk and bringing us to whatever decisions we make in life. Covid-19, it turns out, complicates everything.

How we make decisions:

Under normal circumstances the different regions of our brain assess emotions and information, tapping into our personality and tendencies for risk as well as our understanding of risk as it relates to our age and health. That's all factored into making a decision.

Covid-19 is not normal. The pandemic presents the brain with novel scenarios and information. Most of us have never experienced a severe pandemic and the many unknowns that come with it. That may lead us to look at how others are responding. We also draw on our personal experience of the pandemic itself, especially if we've witnessed someone becoming ill or dying. Our identity also affects our decision-making. Neuroscientist Gaurav Suri points to mask-wearing, behavior that early in the pandemic was influenced by how we identify politically.

The brain clings to signals that things are normal — supermarkets are open, the cat climbs on your lap, you take walks. We desire normalcy. Neuroscientists suggest that may be why people come to different conclusions about their risks and make decisions based on the interaction and strength of many different networks.

Challenges to our ability to assess risk: Not only are we dealing with pandemic fatigue and the yearning for a return to more balanced life, we're also experiencing the stirrings of memory, joy and meaning that are part of getting together during the holidays.

Decision-making suggestion:

Make a risk budget: “As people make decisions about doing different things, it’s important they understand that any risk you take is additive. So, if you engage in one area that’s risky, you should try to reduce risk in other areas when you can,” says Dr. Leana Wen. 

Kayt Sukel  suggests making a risk budget, which she describes this way: “If you want to get a haircut, great — but then maybe you don’t go out for a meal. If you are thinking about in-person school because it’s best for your family, then skip birthday parties and other social events."

The bottom line: "A budget can be empowering. It’s a way to live your values and still protect you and yours from harm," Sukel says. "It’s also a way to push some of those factors like stress and social factors to the side so they don’t have an outsized influence on your decisions."

These are the worst of times for Covid-19 fatigue. Vaccines are here. Enough of us may be immunized by summer. By then it will likely be safe to see friends and family in-person again--go on vacation, eat at our favorite restaurants and even take in a show at a theater. The end is in sight. But it's not here yet. Scientists fear we may let down our guard and not make the best decisions for our family's health during the December holidays.

No shaming here. We all have different tolerances for risk and different risk budgets. We need to respect that, especially in these times of stress.

painting: Picasso

 

Empty Nest: Why are we happier than our young adult kids are?

Economists who study happiness--yes there are such folks out there--have found that happiness (or, as they define it, satisfaction with life) is high when we're 16 years old then drops off into a U-shaped curve that doesn't peak again until we're nearly 50 years old. For many of us who are parents, 50 coincides with the dreaded unhappiness of the suddenly empty nest. So what gives?

That's a point a Freakonomics program called No Stupid Questions, posed in its discussion of happiness and when we feel the best about our lives. You can read (or listen to the podcast of) that discussion for yourself and delight in its quirky good humor. Or you can scroll through some of the highlights I've picked out. The dialogue is between Stephen Dubner, who wrote Freakonomics, and Angela Duckworth, a psychologist. Here are some highlights:

The Empty Nest effect:

DUCKWORTH: ...., one of the findings from marriage research is that so many married couples with children fear the empty-nest syndrome. But actually, on average, people tend to be happier once they’ve sort of gotten over the initial crying of your last kid being dropped off to college. I think there are other explanations, though.

Why our young adult and 20- and 30-something kids are not as happy as we think they should be:

DUBNER: Are you suggesting — and I think there is research that suggests this — that young people are unrealistically optimistic? And even if the answer to that is yes, can you really say that it is unwise, because maybe one of the things that you need a surplus of when you’re starting out is optimism, because in fact, it can be hard.

DUCKWORTH: There is a psychologist who I love named Don Moore. He’s a judgment and decision-making scientist. And he believes that not only the young, but people of all ages, can be recklessly optimistic. And he thinks that this overconfidence is actually a problem. ...

I think that these high aspirations that young people have — rose-tinted movies in their head about what their wedding is going to be like, and how their children are going to be beautiful and perfect, and all these projections into the future — which are probably a little naive. I think you could ask the question whether they’re really unwise or not. I do think that if you reach higher, you’ll get farther, but you might be less happy doing it. .......

And there is this gap between what we are achieving and our aspirations, not because we’re achieving less. We’re probably achieving more. I’m mean, we’re learning more. We’re having, in some cases, higher-quality experiences. But our aspirations are growing faster than our objective achievements.

The angst young adults feel as they become independent

DUCKWORTH: Yeah, I think what teenagers experience is actually, high highs and low lows. And there’s a lot of scientific evidence for that, too. I’m a university professor, so I see lots of 18- to 22-year-olds who have their fair share of angst. And they are experiencing the decrease in happiness. They have memories of being carefree children. And I think that downward slope, my guess is, is feeling the difference between what it was and what it is today.

We’re very sensitive to changes. And to feel that everything was so simple then, and that you could eat an ice cream cone without guilt. They’re all of a sudden burdened with the weighty responsibilities of adulthood – their first career choices, their first disappointments professionally, or maybe major ones romantically. And when you’re sad it’s really hard to be convinced that you’ll ever not be sad. I like to tell young people who are in emotional turmoil, or experiencing the decrease in their emotional well-being, that life is long and that they won’t feel exactly this way forever.

Is schadenfreude the reason we're happier as we hit the higher age numbers?

DUBNER: [Some researchers]...suggest that one potential reason for the upswing in happiness around midlife is that you’ve seen people that you grew up with having really bad fortune, dying and whatnot. As you said, your gratitude may start to kick in a little bit more.

DUCKWORTH: I mean, the cynical interpretation of that is it’s all downward social comparison. You look at people who, “Oh, my gosh, I can’t believe that happened.” And that somehow makes you feel better. I mean, just having some perspective, right? .... The wide-angle lens on life that allows you to appreciate a good cup of coffee and, wow, nothing went wrong today.

DUBNER: Wow. You really have lowered your expectations, haven’t you?

DUCKWORTH: I guess that’s why I’m so happy.

Shedding unhappiness

DUBNER: .... How would you suggest people try to get rid of the things that make them unhappy and increase the ones that work?

DUCKWORTH: ...one of the most reliable interventions to increase happiness is called the “three blessings exercise.” And you simply think of three good things that happened, usually in the last 24 hours. And you rattle them off. I’ve gotten so good at it. I can do it usually in 10 or 15 seconds: Lucy, Amanda, the avocado was ripe.

DUBNER: Wait. Just naming your children fulfills the three? That’s what you’re saying?

DUCKWORTH: I know you’re going to say that’s a cheat, or how is that possible? But when I bring my kids to mind, I’m like, “Lucy’s healthy, Amanda finished her midterms.” I mentioned the avocado, I don’t want to put that on the same level as my children. But it was a miracle of God that the avocado was actually not too ripe and not underripe.

photos: Maia Lemov