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

What it feels like to send your first born off to college

I will not name names. But this was a Facebook post written by a dad I know who drove his oldest child--his son, who happens to be my grandson--to college a few days ago and managed to keep those lump-in-throat emotions in check--for a while:

And for those who are asking the obvious question, by some miracle I did not cry. (No one will believe that.)

At least not until I got home and found a letter from him on the kitchen table. Then it was full-on runny nose blubbering.

He will be so happy there and I will still miss him so much.

On-The-Job Advice: Helicopter parenting and your adult child's work place.

photo: Maia Lemov

Once our kids graduate--be it from college, graduate school or a specialized program--we're pleased when they land their first "career" job. They're launched. It's more than pleasing. It's thrilling.

But some of us have a hard time letting go and recognizing they are now on their own as professionals. I've written about parents who contacted their child's boss when they didn't like the way the company was treating their child. I think we can all agree that is a major overstep. I've taken note of other over-steps in the job search and work place here and here

How about this one? A parent wrote to the New York Times' Work Friend columnist, Megan Greenwell, that her daughter asked her for advice on a workplace issue and now she was asking the columnist to weigh in.

My 24-year-old daughter works for a small nonprofit. She has recently started to see a therapist one day a week, so she arrives an hour later than normal and stays an extra hour that day. She puts her arrival time into the organization’s calendar, which is the protocol if you have a doctor’s appointment, but since this is a weekly appointment, she wasn’t sure if she needs to explain where she is to the executive director. My initial response is that her therapy appointments are none of the director’s business, but now I wonder if I am just being old-fashioned. What do you recommend for her?

Megan Greenwell wasn't treating this as a "tell" or "not-tell" issue. She took it as a deeper incursion into the daughter's independence and autonomy. Here, in part, is what she wrote the mother about her daughter:

I’d recommend that she draw sharper boundaries with her mom. Asking family members for advice is entirely reasonable, but your outsourcing the question crosses the line into helicopter parenting. A 24-year-old is more than capable of navigating her own office politics.

"Over-parenting" can be a fine line. Is asking advice about the advice to give an adult child who has asked for advice crossing into the dreaded territory of helicopter parenting? Does it suggest we're making too much of the issue, of over-reacting to our adult child's situation?

Got an opinion on this? Please share.

(P.S. Here's how Greenwell came down on the actual issue of whether or not to tell:)

It sounds as though her boss has already agreed to her schedule change one day a week, so I don’t see a need for any further discussion about why. If arriving an hour late isn’t causing any problems, she can just keep filling out the calendar. She absolutely shouldn’t feel any shame for going to therapy — everyone should try it! — but she doesn’t need to go out of her way to make sure everyone knows, either.

Vacations and Adult Kids: Outgrowing a family tradition

We are not vacationing with our grown children this year. Lots of people don't ever do it, but we did. We stayed in rustic condos in a resort in Vermont. We hiked mountain trails, we biked protected pathways and we splashed in mountain creeks. We taught our grandkids to skim rocks and to play tennis; they taught us Uno and the joy of an after-dark swim.

Paterfamilias and I are sad to see it come to an end. Was it something we said? No. It's that our grandkids are now teenagers with busy, complicated lives--and friends. They still love their PenPen and BaPa (that's me and Paterfamilias), but now they like to have a friend come along--someone who can mountain bike with them and dive off rocks or go for a run in the valley. Our oldest grandchild is getting ready to go to college in the fall and he has a summer job--which makes scheduling time in Vermont as a three-generation family daunting--even more so than factoring in our grown children's work schedules and business travel demands.

Time moves on. We're going to Vermont for a week anyway--without the kids or grandkids. We love the rugged mountains, the crisp air, the ease that comes with not having to lock your door. You can play tennis at noon in Vermont and not die of the heat. We'll take some hikes--not as challenging as the ones we did with them but we'll still be walking along leafed-in paths that inevitably climb to yet another, sigh, waterfall. We'll enjoy it. But it won't be the same. The heart of the vacation will be missing. Just another of those adjustments we make as parents of grown children and grandparents of their almost-grown children.

Change stirs things up; it adds excitement to life, right?  I'll know more about that when we get back from our vacation for two in Vermont.

 

Money Matters: The Wisdom of the Crowd on loan versus a gift to adult children

Okay. So crowdsourcing wisdom is just another way of saying Reader Comments on an issue that cuts close to many of our hearts and pocketbooks. Often, though, those comments are more than passing remarks. They carry kernals of wisdom based on years of experience. So here is commentary from my readers responding to Michele Singletary's advice on when to cut the financial aid to adult children and from those who responded to a New York Times article calling for tips on managing household finances--with loans/gifts to family members eliciting commentary from two readers. 

First up: General advice from a New York Times reader on financial assists, whether it's your kin or someone else in need:

“If you do give money to someone, you have no right to dictate what they do with it....This principle works for all kinds of donations. If I decide to give money to a family member, a person experiencing homelessness, or an institution, I have decided to trust their judgment, and I never think about it again.”

From a Parenting Grown Children reader responding to Michele Singletary's comment that, if you give to an adult child, the giving should help push that child toward financial independence:

"I like the quote from Singletary. Every child and every situation is different. We can cut those cords but sometimes we need to tape them back together for a short while in order to keep our children making forward progress."

While this reader doesn't address lending money to adult children per se, her comments could apply across the board. She wrote to the  New York Times to say that when she was 10 years old, she lent a nickel to a classmate in Sunday school, and never got it back.

“I decided that I would never loan money to anyone again. I’m nearly 65 and I’ve kept my vow. I only give money away. I let people know it’s a gift and nothing is owed, in any manner. And I do it with a smile and graciously.”

Observations: Michelle Singletary on when to cut an adult child's financial cord

I am not the only one writing about the helping hand versus tough love. Or how to find, as Michelle Singletary puts it in her Washington Post column, The Color of Money,  "the balance between protecting our children and letting them learn the hard way."

She does not--as I do not--have an all-purpose, one-answer-fits-all solution. It depends.  She writes about hearing from readers who are helping pay down their children's student loan debt and opening savings accounts for grandchildren ("We do not see this as an umbilical cord, we see it as an investment in their future.")  and another reader who is supporting a child while he gets his PhD ("He'll get the money sooner or later, and he might as well get it when it will help the most.")

To be sure, it is not all "thanks and I'll pay you back on your investment in me." There are times when we might not hand over assets. Some kids exude an unpleasant air of entitlement, which could be a signal to tighten the fist. And, of course, not all of us can afford to be as generous to our kids as we would like to be. 

Affordability aside, here's where Singletary comes down on the financial aid question:

Wherever you draw the line, take a step back and make sure you’re pushing your children toward being as self-supporting as possible.

Vacation Togetherness Addendum: More tips on the art of inclusion and compromise

photo: Maia Lemov

Adventure travel with adult children is, well, an adventure with an extra dimension. "Though it gets less attention that traveling with young children, there are," a travel editor assures us, "as many joys and as many complications in traveling with adult offspring."

The editor's family--mother, father, two 20-something daughters--went to China and toured around remote Yunnan Province.  The family "had to catch seven flights, spend a night together in a tiny sleeper train compartment, find restaurants to please every palate, and survive two illnesses, a mountainside van breakdown, altitude sickness, a shakedown and a couple of questionable hotels." That said, it was a wonderful and bonding experience. Looking back at it and other trips, the author, Elizabeth Chang, shares guidelines for travel with adult offspring. You can catch the full list here.

Here are a few highlights:

Consult everyone about the itinerary.  Compromises need to be made but everyone should have a destination or site they're excited about.

Don't overbook--allow time for impulse visits and to recoup energy.

Create a shared document where everyone can check the hotels, departure and arrival times, names of guides hired.

Get separate rooms--everyone needs a chance to get away from each other.

Discuss money beforehand--as in, who's paying for what.

Have them organize and lead some of the trip excursions.

My Tiny Love Story to my children and grandchildren

It's my Tiny Love Story online in the New York Times.

With my littlest grandchild.

Noise, then Silence

My husband and I watched from the driveway as our son and his family of five packed their van for the 7-hour drive home. For a week, our house had thrilled to the sounds of small feet on stairs, stories being read, spoons clinking against cereal bowls. Now my littlest grandchild’s tricycle was put into the van’s hatch, the door slammed, the engine started. We leaned in for last hugs. As their car backed away, the sense of loss was sudden and sharp. For days we had been absorbed into the life of this precious family. And now, not. — Penelope Lemov

 

 

 

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Family Visits: Saying Goodbye Is the Hardest Part

A friend recently returned from Denmark where she spent 10 days with her daughter and granddaughter who've lived outside Copenhagen for nearly 17 years. It was a pleasant visit, she reports. She saw her granddaughter act in a play, and the three of them went to Amsterdam for a look at the tulips. She and her daughter got along better than they usually do--they see each other two or three times a year--and she felt a special closeness to her teenage granddaughter.

My friend is not the sentimental type. That's why it surprised her when she started weeping when it came time to say goodbye. "I had such an empty feeling," she says.

I know. When my daughter lived on the West coast--in the other Washington--I used to sob in the back of the taxi as the driver raced me to the airport and my flight back east. My daughter and my baby granddaughter were thriving, so why was I blubbering? Empty feeling? Yes. Plus a regret that she lived so far away and I couldn't be there if she needed my help.

It's not just a female thing. The other day Paterfamilias had a farewell "moment" (non-blubber style) when his teenage granddaughter left for the airport after a three-day visit. Then there's this full-on emotional response a Canadian father wrote about his son's departure after a week-long visit. 

His winter-battered car with ruby tail lights goes down to the end of the block to a cul-de-sac, swings around and comes back toward me. As he goes by, I slowly turn to wave at this one-man parade. I am silently saying goodbye. See ya’ soon. Safe journeys. The street light overhead fortunately doesn’t reveal the tears in my eyes, nor can it possibly reveal the less-tangible gap where loneliness is now in permanent residence.

.... I glance up and down the city block on which I have lived for more than 30 years. I have no idea why it seems so empty. Winter has turned the trickle of tears on my cheeks to a tiny frozen stream.

Is this the other side of the mansplaining coin? I tear-up every time I read it. All of us who have children who live far from us miss the daily or weekly get-together with our children and their children--be it tea, lunch or Sunday dinner. Or just a drop-by. Skype is nice but it's not the same.

Vacation Togetherness: Six tips on taking the grown kids (and maybe their kids) along

When I was young and in my 20s--single and starting my career, then married and starting a family--I did not want to vacation with my parents. I'd been there, done that growing up. Now I wanted to taste adventure--not the same-old same-old with the same-old same-olds. Nor was I any different from my friends. We were all about striking out on our own.

How the worm has turned. Family Vacations Are Us. Not just us, as in my family. Cruise ships tout inter-generational groupings, so does VRBO and AirBnb, to say nothing of resorts and travel companies. (Even Roads Scholars, which caters to the 55+ set, has grandparent-grandchild outings.).

There are reasons for the trend. A major one: our grown kids may not live near us or each other, so a family get together is more reunion than vacation. Moreover, we're the generation that's had a soft landing. Many of us have retired or are near retirement with healthy retirement savings. Not only can we afford to travel, we can afford to invite our kids along.

Now that I'm the "same old same old" that my parents were when I broke away, I have embraced family togetherness. For the past 15 years Paterfamilias and I have rented condos in a resort in Vermont and invited our grown children and their families to join us. When we started it was because my daughter lived in Seattle and my son in Boston. They were both on the very beginning rungs of their careers--in graduate school or in first jobs. We wanted the reunion; we picked up the tab. But .as the years have skampered by and our kids have come into their primes, costs are shared. We're no longer the sole source of the rent, food and transportation--nor even the key decision maker about when the family vacay will take place. It's a complicated dance of work schedules and activities--theirs, not ours.

I've written several posts on tips for making these inter-generational get-togethers a satisfying vacation. [Here here and here.] but there is always room for another perspective. A British writer pulled together some guidance for Brits planning vacations with their grown children. Here are some of the pointers worth repeating. I'm particularly fond of the last one.

 Make sure everyone has a say in the destination and activities. Consider renting two cars so you're not stuck all doing the same thing.

If the grown children work, they should contribute financially to the trip. If you're self-catering, everyone pitches in on meals--refuse to play 'mum' while on holiday.

Everyone gets a turn to be 'tour guide' for a day and decide on activities.

Young adults know the internet inside out - let them find out information and ease off the pedal. Your goal is to spend family time together - do you really care where and how?

Not everyone has to stay the entire time, especially if they're converging from different places.

If you are involving partners (or kids) of your adult children, the dynamic of intergenerational holidays may need to be discussed or you'll end up babysitting while they're escaping for fun.

Avoid the impulse to act like parents. Remember what it was like when you travelled in your 20s - most kids are smart and savvy to a far greater degree.

Observations: Social Qs on correcting our adult children's behavior

So many things to love about our grown children. And yet, a few that irk, irritate or strike us as wrong. If they were eight years old, we would correct their behavior--point out the folly of their way, set them on a wiser path. But they're independent adults now and may even be parents themselves.  What do we do when we see them do something that we feel needs correcting?

"Let it go" is the core of the advice from Philip Galanes (Social Qs) to a 62-year-old grandmother. She writes to say she finds it disturbing the way her 5-year-old grandson, whom she babysits twice a week, is subjected to the sight of her daughter and son-in-law kissing passionately in front him (and her). More specifically, here's what Galanes has to say (including an implied warning) about the "correction" issue:

A "big advantage your grandson currently enjoys is having a loving grandmother built into his weekly routine. Do your best to safeguard that — which means holding back, when possible, from criticizing the way your daughter and son-in-law run their household. As a parent of adult children, it often pays to be quiet about the ways their choices differ from yours."

 

Etiquette Expectations: Should our kids bring us gifts when they come home for a holiday dinner?

An email from a friend arrived in my inbox this week. He was soliciting advice. Here's his question.

Our older son notified us by text that he and his wife could come over for Easter Sunday dinner. We dutifully dropped $50 on primo lamb chops, wild rice, asparagus, a freshly baked pie, and a six-pack of craft beer. Our son arrived empty handed, though he quickly filled one by grabbing a beer from the refrigerator, handing a sparkling water to his wife. The fact that the pair brought nothing cast a pall of entitlement over the holiday dinner. Was I wrong to feel this way? Could this have been my own fault for subsidizing him for so long? I look forward to your sage guidance.

Readers, what would you tell hm? Here's the stab I made at handing out sage guidance on life's little and big inter-personal problems. 

We feel what we feel and you feel lousy about your son not acknowledging the effort you made. It might have helped if he had thanked you for making such a great dinner.

But this may not be an entitlement issue. Adult kids are still kids and when they come home for a "special" dinner they don't see themselves as guests but as your son, and sons or daughters don't usually think to bring "guest gifts" or "chip in" offerings to their parents. Also it may be a generational thing. Every year we are invited to a neighbor's house for Passover dinner along with their two adult kids and their families as well as cousins and the cousins' kids. I always call to see what I can bring (usually dessert). But it turns out that I am almost alone in that. My neighbor tells me that I and an "older" cousin are the only ones who offer to bring anything. The grown kids and cousins never do.

If these kids were invited to a friend's house for a big get-together, would they bring a six pack or a bottle of wine? Probably. But parents seem to be another story.

I checked in with Paterfamilias. He leaned toward letting it slide. His rationale: The relationship with adult children is so important and delicately balanced, why let something relatively minor become an issue.

Any of you readers want to take a crack at this?

Money Matters: We're still supporting our kids into their 30s and 40s

If we can afford to do it, a number of us are the financial backers of our grown kids. We're not just helping our recent college graduates with rent or a cell phone bill. We're doing the same and more for our kids in their 30s and 40s--kids who are established on their career tracks but moving into the "expensive" part of their lives, the time when they marry, have children, buy homes. (The percent of kids getting help, according to a 2018 report, is more than half adult kids between the ages of 21 and 37.)

The reason, per this NYTimes story: Millennial incomes today are lower than they were for Gen Xers and boomers at the same point in their lives. Many of today's millennials graduated from college into the recession, and that put them behind in terms of salaries and savings. Add to that today's real estate market: In many of the big cities where our grown kids live, the cost of simple housing is out of  their affordability range--if not for our help with a down payment assist here or a co-sign there.

Beyond cash outlays, some of us provide services that add up. A recently retired friend of mine babysits her eight month old grandson three days a week. The other grannie sits the other two days so that the mom could go back to work full time. The value--apart from the irreplaceable loving care--is  upwards of $25,000 a year.

While our kids may need the help, researchers found they don't feel great about taking it. Accepting help from the bank of mom and dad when you're in your 30s or 40s is evidently "the last taboo of finance that people don’t want to admit." 

Shame or not, our largesse gives our kids an edge. While families with means have always helped their children, what’s different today, the Times reports, is that the economy has more extreme gyrations, which tends to flatten wages. That's when family wealth plays an outsize role in helping people get ahead. Those who don't get that parental financial boost are grappling with paying off student-loan debt, which effects their ability to save to buy a house--a key way to financial stability and the building of wealth.  (Nationally, homeownership rates are falling for millennials; only two in 10 have a mortgage or home loan.)

A Boston real estate agent who works primarily with first-home buyers told a Times reporter that in the 20 years she's been an agent she has rarely seen anyone in their 30s who did not have family help or an inheritance for their down payment. (In the Boston market, a 20 percent down payment is between $80,000 and $100,000.)  In even pricier New York City, a real estate agent estimates that  a quarter of his 30-something clients who are buying larger, family-size apartments receive money from their parents, whether it’s in the form of a gift, a low-interest loan or co-purchasing.

It's a good thing we're around for them, as, evidently, more and more of us are.

 

 

 

The bitter and sweet of living far from our grown children

We who live far  from our grown kids take solace in the "up" side of distance. When we visit them it is usually for a few days or even longer and those visits can be festive, busy and intense. For a few fleeting days we are part of their everyday lives: We see up close and personally how they live. We pick up on quotidian minutia that they don't discuss with us on Face Time or in texts. It's more intimate and revealing than having children live nearby and dropping by for an hour here and a dinner there.

But there's a trade-off. They're here today and gone in another day or two. A friend whose daughter flew in for a two-day visit, texted me in mid-visit: "My apartment is full of life! Today I know what I am missing."

Say no more. I know exactly what she means.

We are disciplined about being independent. These visits--whether we go to them or they come to us--are a reminder of the price of that discipline. We're not "sweeping up the heart/and putting love away" but the reality is our grown kids live far from us and lead lives very much apart from ours. We can't meet them spontaneously for a Saturday morning coffee. Paterfamilias and I have stopped going to Chinese restaurants on Sunday evenings--they are too filled with three generations of family laughing and talking and sharing fried rice and moo shi pork. And we're not.

While the long visits we get are wonderful and "full of life," they are a reminder of how much we miss our children and their families, of how we discipline ourselves not to think about the loss and the excitement the younger generation, whose lives are on fire, bring into our lives. 

 

 

Giving Advice and Good Counsel to Grown Children

 

 

 

 

We here at Parenting Grown Children central--I use the editorial we since there's no one here but me--have long counseled that we can offer our grown children advice, but should do so only when asked. (See Notes to Self.) Yes, we have much life experience to share--wisdom born of experience that could help our grown children avoid mistakes. But we have to let them figure stuff out for themselves. If they want our good counsel--and sometimes they do--they'll ask for it. Otherwise, bite that lip; walk gently on those eggshells.

Not an easy direction to follow.  Sometimes the temptation can be too much; the stakes too high. Carolyn Hax recently advised a dad--she was asked for her counsel. The dad was concerned about his 27-year-old son who graduated college with honors in his field but was working at a low-pressure, low-wage job and living with and off his girlfriend. The dad's wife--the stepmother--has been pressuring him to have a "serious father-son talk" with his son about the son's future. The dad is clearly of two minds. He is worried about his son but he also has faith that "he'll eventually find his direction in life. And not everyone needs to be a CEO, right?" And so he turns to Hax to ask, "Should I talk with him or not?"

Hax's answer wasted no words: "Not. Not your business."

So hard to step back and take Hax's advice. And yet, needs must. If we brought them up right, they will find their true north--though it may not be the one we would choose for them. Cheers and show the love of support, dad.

 

Financial Aid of the Administrative Kind: Are you still helping your adult kids do their taxes?

There's lot of tax news--about lower-than-anticipated refunds; about caps on write offs of state and local taxes. Will adjustments never cease?

What there is less talk about is this: Some of us our still helping our grown children with their taxes. One dad I know has his tax accountant text his 38-year-old daughter to remind her to send him (the CPA) her W2 and other tax information. The dad then pays his accountant to fill out his daughter's tax forms and send her the package, complete with pre-addressed envelopes. All she has to do is sign and  send.

A Wall Street Journal article last year detailed other ways in which mums and dads helped out their kids at tax time--even though some of the kids were well into their 40s. In one instance, the dad was filling out forms for an adult grandchild as well.

Yes, the kids should have learned the skill by now. But some of us worry that our kids don't have time to do it--their careers are hectic plus they're bringing up kids, cooking meals and making sure the laundry is done. What greater gift than saving them time.

Other moms and dads see it as a bonding experience. It is certainly an informative one: We know how much they're earning, how big their raise was or bonus wasn't. If our child or our child's spouse has a home office, we know if that business is flourishing and we make sure all possible deductions are taken.

For some parents, there's a more benign reason: It gives us a way to hang around in an advisory capacity and to feel relevant by providing an important service. They still need us!

We can only hope that if there's money due the IRS, we're not asked to help--or tempted to offer assistance-- with that, too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Money Matters: What If They Ask Us for an Advance on Their Inheritance?

Many of us--well, those of us with the wherewithal--are inclined to help out our grown kids in the here and now, rather than have them wait till our last will and testament is read. The down payment on a car or a house; the tab for day care for a grandchild--these are some of the things we may offer to help with--by gift or loan--and that give us a measure of pleasure to underwrite.

But what if it's not us offering the assist but them asking for an "advance" on the money we'll be leaving them? Does it matter what the ask is for? Does their asking, rather than our offering, put a different cast on the "feel good" moment? Are they presumptuous in their expectations?

It's complicated. A woman who wrote to Social Qs for advice on whether or not to ask her elderly parents for an "advance" to make it easier for her to buy a house, be able to underwrite family gatherings and otherwise "enjoy some of it while they're alive." The letter writer also noted that her parents had willingly paid for the education of her sister's children and that an "advance" would more or less even the financial-legacy scales.

Philip Galanes advice to the daughter in question is one we might take into account if such a request comes our way.

If you are sure that [your parents] are still competent to make this decision and can afford it, ask for a loan. Let them decide whether to make it a gift. And drop the tit-for-tat with your sister over her children’s education. That help was given at another time and probably long planned.

My biggest reservation here is that many parents I know would go without to help their children (even deep into adulthood). If that sounds like yours, stick with your original plan to pay for the house yourself. There comes a time to put our parents first, after years of the reverse arrangement.

 

 

Supporting Grown Children: Golden Handcuffs Edition

It's a wonderful feeling to be able to be financially generous to our adult children--to support them if an unexpected need arises or to indulge them so that they can do or buy something they've always wanted. If we've got that bit of extra to spare, there's a deep pleasure in seeing our children enjoy it now rather than later--when we're no longer around.

And our kids are grateful. Why shouldn't they be? We've offered them support out of love for them and respect for their ability to handle the resource well. But sometimes, there's a little less of a heartfelt thank you. There can even be resentment, especially if there are strings attached. This letter that appeared in an advice column in a local Colorado newspaper spells out the dangers of attaching those strings--even if we do so indirectly:

When I met my wife five years ago, I had no idea of her financial status. I knew that her parents had a nice home and spent a lot of time traveling but she lived frugally and worked hard. When we got married, I learned about the extent of her family's substantial resources. Admittedly, they have been very generous — helping us with the down payment on our house, taking us on family vacations and starting college funds for our kids. The issue is that they've increasingly put pressure on us to raise the kids in specific ways, build our schedules and vacations around their needs and spend money according to their values. We, and my wife in particular, have been struggling to say no because of everything they continue to give us.

The letter was signed: Locked In Golden Handcuffs

The couples coach who answered the plea from "Locked" talked about the "aging" parents and their need to feel relevant. They also focused on what was triggering the son-in-law's negative response, such as feeling a loss of empowerment, freedom or authenticity or a sense of emasculation.

Whatever it is, it's not something I would want to visit on my son or daughter or their spouses. To give is to give freely. It's their lives to live. We are not in the driver's seat--even if we bought them the car.

 

 

Grandparenting: The no "Thank You" issue. Again

He's got an hilariously snarky point of view. Choire Sicha, the NYTimes Styles desk editor who is working his way through a three-month stint as the newspaper's "Work Friend," columnist, admits that he has only two to four ideas about life and that none of them are particularly original. That said, he notes that "Somehow long-running advice columnists, or really any kind of regular columnist or other Pez dispenser of thoughts, can reiterate their ideas for months or decades."

I thought about that commentary as I was reminded, yet again, of my replies to a sore that wont seem to heal for many grandparents: When they give their grandchildren gifts, they do not receive appropriate thank you notes from them. By "appropriate," most of the complainants seem to mean that a text or email will not do. They want a written note. I have posted my two-to-four thoughts on this issue here and here and a few other places.

And now I get to do it again, backed this time by the reliable Philip Galanes, the light-touch behind Social Q's.

Here's what his complainant had to say:

My teenage grandchildren have never sent us a thank-you note for any present we’ve given them. My husband and I are thinking of teaching them a lesson by skipping Christmas gifts this year. Thoughts?

Galane's thought:

Unless you believe your grandchildren can read minds, wouldn’t it be a more useful lesson to ask them for thank-you notes? I’m sorry that you and your husband feel underappreciated. But if the kids’ parents never insisted they write notes, and you never asked for them, how were your grandchildren to know?

If you expect thank-you notes, or if they are the price of admission for future gifts, tell your grandchildren. And you may as well specify whether email or text messages will suffice.

I couldn't say it any better and have tried. We live in a digital world, and it's a lot less formal than the good old days of personalized note cards and prized penmanship. Thank you notes--verbal, digital or hand crafted--are all welcome at our household.

If your grandkids don't respond to the request for a Thanks and you've set your priorities, well, then let the withholding begin. But remember this line from Dorothy Parker: "And if that makes you happy kid/You'll be the first it ever did."

Grandparenting: Ecstacy, agony and the mixed emotions of being a Nana or PopPop

The feelings we have on  becoming a grandparent aren't exactly oversold. Let's just say they're more complicated than the treacly bliss a Hallmark card might portray.

There's always been this joke about the up side of a day of grand parenting: The good news is that at the end of the day, your grandchild goes home.

There are other, more complicated feelings about being a grandparent. Yes, there is the unalloyed thrill of falling in love with a precious new life. But there is also the feeling of being an outsider. A friend--a single mother whose daughter had a baby a few weeks ago--finds her  relationship with her daughter has turned upside down. Where mother and daughter had shared shopping and movies and friendships, the daughter's focus is now exclusively (and rightly so) on her newborn; the future of the family is the baby. There's hardly a murmur about the well-being of my friend, who has been asked to babysit three days a week now that the new mom is going back to work.

It's a variation on another emotion: the feeling of being a guest in your child's life rather than an insider, a sense that we're looking in no matter how inside we thought we were. As Robin Marantz Henig wrote in a NYTimes essay, on grandmothering, "Even as you get to watch them, right up close, you're always outside with your nose pressed against the glass--and increasingly aware of how much of their story will take place without you."

Henig takes that last thought one agonizing step further.

I have internalized the stinging knowledge that, beneath all the encouragement you give your children to grow and walk and speak and leave, beneath all the wonderful moments you may be lucky enough to share in and enjoy, your grandchild’s life will be a long string of birthdays you will not live to see.

She calls this the doubled-edged nature of being a grandmother:

 Your thoughts turn powerfully toward the future — one that now includes the grandchildren you adore — at the very same moment you’re reminded of your own absence from that future. It’s an odd mixture of birth and death, which is what gives grandmotherhood its beauty, as well as its specific and poignant pain.

I understand what she's saying but personally,I have moments when I'm glad I won't be around to see how my precious grands cope with some of the awful changes the planet and the political world have in store. Or maybe our grands will be part of a solution. Still, it scares me just a little to think my dotage will be so prolonged I'll be here to see more than I want to see.

 

 

Money Matters: Six check-offs before you help your child buy a house

Here's the home buying news from Australia: 55 percent of first time home buyers (that's our generation of kids) got help from their parents (that's us) last year.

Here in the U.S, one-third of those 37 and younger used a gift or loan from family or friends to come up with a down payment for a house.

It's a first-world universal: If we can afford it, many of us take on that down payment assistance willingly. We may see it as a part of a “living inheritance.” That is, a chance to see our kids make good use of what’s coming to them when we're not around to see how they use it. Or, we may want to see our kids living free and clear of a landlord. Or in a better neighborhood. Or to have an investment that will grow with time.

But no good deed comes without complications. Here are  six big things to think about if you can afford to be a financial angel for their home purchase.

ONE: Family Dynamics.

There may be other family members--say, siblings of the future home owner--who feel the scales of parental largesse are being unbalanced, and not in their favor. It may be presumptuous and ungrateful on their part, but there it is. Communications about what you're doing and why--and whether the sibs can or should expect similar assistance--can keep everyone feeling fairness rules.   

TWO: Guarantees

If an adult child doesn't qualify for financing, parents may have to act as guarantors or as “co-signors” on the mortgage itself, meaning they are shown on the title as a co-owner and on the mortgage directly. Co-signing is the more common approach, but it raises several questions such as whether the parents have an actual ownership interest. There are also questions about what happens if one of the parties passes away or, if the child is married, gets separated or divorced.

THREE: Gifts

If an adult child qualifies for a mortgage on his or her own, parents can make the purchase more affordable with a gift that boosts the amount of down payment or helps lower the interest rate. No need for co-signing or guaranteeing. Write a check for any amount you choose. That's it — no contract or ongoing commitments. But gifter beware: Lenders like to see money gifts — easily traceable checks, bank transfers or wire transfers — in a borrower's bank account three or four months before they apply for a mortgage. Givers and recipients may need to sign letters confirming that the money isn't a loan.

In addition to or in lieu of down-payment assistance, a cash gift can pay all or part of an expense such as mortgage closing costs.

Here's an additional benefit to down-payment assistance: It can help new borrowers avoid paying for private mortgage insurance, which in turn helps keep their monthly payment lower.

FOUR: Loans

If it's a loan, you can still write a check for any amount but it's best to write it all down in a contract that defines obligations. Not only does that avoid misunderstandings--especially about repayment schedules--but if the parent-lender dies or becomes incapacitated, there's more transparency. All the heirs can view the transaction and its history.

FIVE Being A Banker

If we've got enough cash, we can be the mortgage lender. We can offer easier terms, like no closing costs or no down payment. We could charge a higher rate of interest on the mortgage than our money earns in a savings or money market account and still offer our kids a lower-than-market mortgage rate. But family lenders must charge at least the Applicable Federal Rate , the minimum interest rate required to keep the assistance from being considered a gift.

It's a fairly complicated business but there are companies that can help with the set-up details and provide all the forms and documents you need to meet state, local and IRS requirements. They can also guide families through the settlement and filing process.

Personally, this is too complicated for my taste. Plus, I wouldn't want to be my child's banker. Hard enough being their parent.

SIX Taxes

Anyone can give any other person a gift up to $15,000 in value (money or, say, stocks)  without filing the gift-tax return IRS Form 709 . So each parent can give each child — and the child's partner and their children — up to $15,000 each without having to complete Form 709.

Generational Divide: Life styles of our grandkids versus our generation

Then

And now

We shouldn't compare. But a recent Pew Foundation study gives us the ammunition to do it. It's our Silent and Early Boomers Generation (born in the 1940s and 50s) vs their Millennials (born in the 90s and 2000s). We're 50 years apart in terms of entering those young-adult years. So how's it going for them versus how it went for us?

Here are some of the major differences the study catalogues:

Today’s young adults are much better educated than our generation was.  The findings in chart form:

During the young adult years, they are more likely to be working (71 percent) than we were (58 percent).  This shift to more women in the workplace ratcheted up in the mid 1980s, when Boomers were young.

They're marrying later than we did. In 1965, the typical American woman first married at age 21 and the typical man wed at 23. By 2017, first-marriage ages hit 27 for women and 29.5 for men.

In our day, men were more than 10 times more likely to be veterans than young men today. Millennials can thank the all-volunteer army for that. Men of our generation came of age during the Korean War and its aftermath.

More of them are living in cities than we did. In 1965, around two-thirds of young adults lived in a metropolitan area. Today, nine-in-ten live in metro areas.

Source: Pew Research Center tabulations of the 2017 Current Population Survey Annual Social and Economic Supplement (ASEC) from the Integrated Public Use Microdata Series (IPUMS).

Observation: Philip Galanes on sharing opposing religious beliefs with a grandchild

The particulars don't matter. The point Philip Galanes makes is, "Don't get between your grown children and their children." Our beliefs and accumulated wisdom may run counter to the parents' but unless the child is in grave danger, our role is to stay out of it.

That said, here are the particulars on what Galanes and his Social Qs suggested to a grandmother, an atheist who wanted to discuss "belief in a fictional diety" with a young grandchild whose parents have enrolled her in a parochial school.

"If you are concerned that your granddaughter's worldview is too narrow, head straight to the parents. Your daughter sounds open-minded. But you've had your turn raising children: now it's theirs. (And remember how it felt when parents and in-laws offered unsolicited advice to you?) Your granddaughter will probably appreciate hearing your philosophy when she's older. For now, wait for her to ask you about it."

Leaving a Legacy: Divvying up the sentimental stuff

 In the piles of stuff we leave behind, who can say what our children will consider a treasure: the Rosenthal dinnerware for 12 (minor chip on one dinner plate) or the well-worn cereal bowls that were filled with Cheerios every morning while the kids sat elbow to elbow with their Dad and talked about stuff.

We narrowed down our legacy of give-aways when we rightsized our way from suburban house (43 years of family living) to an urban apartment (minimal storage space). We offered our grown kids a pick of the pre-move litter. They wanted no cut glass vases or silverplate candlelabras--items deeded us by our parents and hauled out for special occasions.  They opted for stuff with personal or sentimental value--the piano being Exhibit One and their grandmother's hand-painted tea cups another.

We moved with our favorite pieces of furniture, works of art and two bins of family memorablia. So there is still some sorting out our kids will have to do when we're no longer in charge. (Hopefully no fights will break out over who gets my collection of whimsical cats. See above)

Even though we've slimmed down, we should make a list of the stuff we have that our kids will have to divide up among themselves or give away. Like many of our friends, we keep putting it off. There's the temptation to say, 'Let the kids figure that out.'

"Wrong" is what the financial/estate planning experts say. When we pass away, it's an emotional experience for our kids. The 'stuff" we leave behind may hit a deep sentimental note for one of them or--and here's the problem--one item may mean a lot to all of them. The sentimental stuff turns out to be the more contentious than the "valuables" and has the potential to create nasty divisions among the inheritees.

 When we write our wills, it's relatively simple to divide the monetary stuff--the bank accounts, stocks and bonds, real estate holdings. A simple formula will do, as in: three kids, divide three ways. But the other stuff--the low- or no-value things like needlepoint pillows, rocking chair, cat statuettes: There isn't an algorithm for dividing it up fairly. If son A gets the vase we picked up in Greece, does daughter B get the pasta bowl from Tuscany? Is there something so evocative of childhood--the cookie jar, the kitchen table--that all the grown kids in the family want it?

Some families do the picking and choosing with their children. The Washington Post ran a story about parents who laid out all the tangible items, gathered their grown children together and gave them each $2,000 worth of monopoly money. The kids could then bid on what they would want--when the time came. Says a son, who admits he got into a bidding war with his brother over a  living room chair, "I have had friends fight with siblings over their parents' stuff--not the expensive stuff, but odds and ends that each child wanted." His family, the son says, "avoided this problem brilliantly. Dad was the auctioneer and mom recorded the results."

Friends of ours whose basements and attics are packed with photos, memorablia, two generations of  dishes and artwork,  have taken various non-auction approaches to parceling out the eventual disposition of their stuff.

One is doing it with stickers: Yellow dots under the chairs, rugs and lamps they want their daughter to have; red sticker dots for their son. They hope the stickers stay stuck and that the kids find the distribution fair. As to the accumulated stuff in the basement storage spaces, they're leaving that to their son's and daughter's good will.

Another friend is making a list and using past observations to figure out who should get what. They have seen their oldest son eye the wooden statute in the dining room and their youngest son admire the  landscape painting in the family room. They want their daughter to have the jewelry--the rings, bangles and necklaces handed down by great-grandmothers and grandmothers. There is one  caveat: the  eldest son's daughter (and the first grandchild who's now a teenager) gets an early pick from the jewelry collection.

There may not be a "best way" here. An auction would be fun, but even a straightforward list beats having our kids duke it out when we're gone.

 

 

Empty Nest, Refilled: The cost of housing is a universal concern for young buyers and their parents

The pressure on Chinese parents to help their Millennial-aged children buy a home is a jaw-dropper.  The Chinese one-family policy plus the urbanization of the economy  is creating a generation of Little Emperors  that have high expectations for how much their parents will do for them in terms of housing.  With housing tight in urban areas and unaffordable at the salaries the Little Emperors are earning, Chinese millennials are looking to their parents to help with the down payment on a house as well as a hefty assist with the mortgage payments.

It's a familiar story--at least the housing part of it.

In Australia, where there's a housing crunch too, a study of 2017 home purchases found that more than half--55 percent--of first-home buyers got a financial boost from their parents. It's quite a leap for the land down under. In 2010, only 3.3 percent of first-time buyers got help from mom and dad.

Here in the U.S., the pressure also starts at home. According to a recent analysis of census data by Zillow, in 2005 roughly 14 percent of millennials (ages 24 to 36) lived at home with mom and dad; today, it's nearly 23 percent. They're there for a variety of reasons but chief among them is the cost of housing in urban areas, which is outpacing wages.

Both millennials and their parents would like to see the youngsters move out and into a home of their own, and parents are helping make that happen.  A 2018 survey by the  National Association of Realtors found that, among homebuyers who made a down payment, 23 percent of those 37 and younger had the wherewithal of a gift and 6 percent a loan from family or friends — the highest proportion for either type of assistance among all age groups.

Feels like help with a down payment is becoming a universal language of love--or for parents who can afford it, a loving necessity.

 

Parenting Grown Children: Mistakes we make steering our kids through the job search

You may find this hard to believe-- I did. But there are those among us who are taking a few dubious extra steps in helping our kids find a job. Where we used to assist by fine tuning a resume or buying them  interview clothes, a few of us are now marching to the job interview with our kids or even sitting in on that interview.

No wonder Alison Green says that some of us "intervene shamelessly in our children's professional lives." Green, who runs a website called Ask a Manager and Slate's Direct Report,usually sticks to general workplace advice aimed at work-seekers and workers. But she's also had some things to say about the "shameless" stuff.

When it comes to advice, the most common type of parent misstep falls under the umbrella of gumption. It’s the idea that to get a job, you need to impress an employer with your persistence and resourcefulness, often by doing things that in other contexts would be considered aggressive or even creepy.

Green's real-life example: A parent advising a recent college grad to make the rounds of offices and drop off a resume--or even insist on seeing the hiring manager.

Green points out how totally out of date that idea is:

For the record, while the idea of getting a job by “pounding the pavement” remains deeply popular among parents of twenty- and thirty- somethings, it doesn’t work in most fields these days, where employers generally want candidates to apply online and not show up with a résumé without an appointment for an interview.

Green also points to a whole category of bad parental advice "rooted in the sweet but misguided faith that employers will surely be blown away by how impressive their children are." A college adviser told Green that a father, who accompanied his daughter to the meeting with the adviser, accused the adviser of sabotaging his daughter's job search. He thought entry-level positions were beneath his daughter--even though she was 21 with no work or volunteer experience at all--and insisted the daughter apply for mid-level positions because “that shows initiative and drive.”

To Green, the most troubling issue is that some parents haven’t accepted that their adult children can--and should--manage their professional lives themselves. Even when their child lands a job, some parents, she reports, call an employer and ask why their child was not given a promotion or raise or singled out for praise.

These parents are doing their kids no favors. Not every employer will bother to ask, “Does your kid know that you’re calling us?” and instead will assume that the kid knows about and has condoned the parent’s interference … which will get them tagged as immature and out of touch with professional norms at best and difficult at worst.

Green's advice to children caught up in these forms of helicopter-parent advice is to limit how much information they give their parents so that the parents will have fewer opportunities to interfere.

Not exactly what we're aiming for when our kids are going through the grueling job of finding a job.