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

Talking Points: Chats with our grown kids about our sex lives.

Are you thinking what I'm thinking? What could be more uncomfortable--and possibly more inappropriate--than a chat with our grown kids about our sex lives and theirs? This is not the sex education conversation that we may have dreaded when our kids were teens or pre-teens. Talking about our sex lives--isn't that socially and familialy verboten or close to it? And yet, two Brazilian filmmakers have videotaped parents and adult children doing just that. The filmmakers suggest that we parents and our adult children be more open about our sex lives and eventually about "other lost opportunities for intimacy."

As the lead to the NYT story on the subject put it, "Most of us would probably rather die than talk with family about our sex lives."

Before we dismiss the idea out of hand, the NYT writer notes that the point of such a chat is meaningful. Here's what she says:

This film begins with all the giggly, seat-squirming cringe you might expect. But once the awkwardness subsides, the film quickly reveals something more profound: loved ones sharing real, meaningful moments from their lives. Sexuality offers life lessons about confidence, trauma and happiness. The film asks the viewer to imagine other conversations left unspoken, from family finances to death.

In making the video, the filmmakers provided questions to facilitate conversation and filmed as their subjects took the plunge. As one of the filmmakers said:

Listening is not only what you want to hear about or don’t want to hear about. Across all strong friendships and relationships, you need to be able to say hard things. You need to be there to listen.”

Although many of us think of our adult children as people we're close to, the filmmakers point out that "people that should be very close are actually far away. You are more likely to talk about sex with strangers.”

Can you see yourself talking to your children about your sex life--or asking them about theirs? I did an informal survey of several friends: The answers ranged from the expected "never" to one friend, the mother of two 20-something sons, who said the only thing she thought her sons would be interested in was how old she was when she first had sex. She then referred me to the father of the boys for further discussion of the question.

So I'm asking you, dear readers. Have you ever had such a talk? Would you ever? How would you begin?

painting: Picasso

New Year Blues: The pain of holiday visits with adult kids

The holidays were barely over when the calls for help started pouring into Jane Adams help line. Parents of adult children had had a rough time during the "joyous" December celebrations. Adams, a social psychologist, reports that she had more inquiries for coaching "from parents whose grown kids disappointed them by not showing up, blaming them for their own problems, calling them toxic, or ignoring them completely."

Ugh. Holiday visits can be devastating, especially when those visits go on for too long and there's over-exposure to--and resentment of--the role each family member plays in the family dynamic. Many adult kids regress when they're home for the holidays. As one psychotherapist put it, "It’s not a question of if the regression is going to happen, it’s when." Or as a NYTimes writer, writing from the adult child's perspective, put it:

Psychologists even have a term to describe the way we fall back into predictable, maddening behavior patterns when we’re with our family of origin. It’s called family systems theory — the notion that families have an equilibrium, and each person has a fixed role that “is in service of keeping the family system intact,” said psychiatrist Pooja Lakshmin. So whatever your established role is — whether you’re the appeaser, or the family clown, or the petulant one — you’re going to be thrown right back there the second you walk through the door of your childhood home.

And that's only one piece of the difficult stuff that can surface when our grown kids come to visit for the holidays..

No wonder that for most families there's what Adams calls "a mismatch of expectations and reality." The silver lining in this reality--and the hope held out by Adams--is talking through the issues but with a particular perspective in mind. Here's Adams:

Starting the new year with a thoughtful, honest, conversation about how to heal the relationship instead of a blow by blow recitation about what transpired and whose fault it was makes it more likely that 2025 will be happier for everyone.

Here's to a New Year graced with family peace, love and joy.

Credit: Pierre Bonnard

 

 

Mind the Gap: When our child's new love comes from a different background

Some of us count ourselves lucky. Our children find their future Mr or Ms Right next door. Or within the same time zone. Or in the same country. Or from a similar culture.  But what happens when none of that describes our child's important love interest. Instead, it's someone with a very different background and from a faraway country. If our child is living in that country and we're living here, that may complicate chances to get to know and embrace the person our child loves.

This is not just a thought problem. A reader of ask sahaj wrote to say her daughter is living abroad and is in a serious relationship with a man who lives there. He lives with his parents and the daughter has become close to the family. The reader feels an emotional gap growing between the boyfriend/daughter/second family and herself. She asks for advice on how to get to know the boyfriend despite the geographical and cultural distances.

Much of Sahaj's advice is specific to the reader's situation but it is also general enough to be helpful to any of us who are struggling to get to know our adult child's boyfriend or girlfriend from a seemingly different world. Here are some of Sajaj's tips, paraphrased and edited for brevity:

If you're worried about saying the wrong thing when you talk to the boy/girl friend: You can ask your child, “Are there cultural differences I should be aware of, or that would help me understand him or her better?” Or, saying something to your child like, “I feel nervous about saying the wrong thing and making things worse. I don’t want to bite my tongue because I really care about you. Can we talk about what I’m feeling?”

While it can feel like an unfamiliar situation, you want to be a support to your child. This may sound like, “I’d love to learn more about them. What are your favorite things about them?” And/or you might tell your child that you’d like to talk to the boy/girlfriend the next time you and your child have a call. Even if it’s just asking how they're doing, or learning more about them, this can build intimacy and comfort with them — and vice versa. 

Regardless of if there are cultural differences, remember the values that are important to you — kindness, openness and so on. These can help you have empathy while also finding micro ways to continue to nurture your relationship with your child — and by default her boy/girlfriend. These smaller moments, questions and conversations can help build the foundation for something deeper, and bridge that gap you feel.

painting: Frank Auerbach

 

Gift Giving: Bringing the warmth to cold cash.

Young adult kids and teen-plus grandkids are well beyond the Toys for Xmas stage. The Holidays and birthdays bring more of a gift challenge. Could we possibly pick out a sweater or shirt that would be appropriate in their world? A tech device they don't have or we could afford? A book they would read? Probably not.

Fear not. There is a gift that is useful, always the right size and never needs to be returned.  Cash. But there is a down side: Whether we're writing a check, handing out paper currency or sending the money via Zelle, a gift of cash can seem cold and impersonal.

Which brings up the question, are there ways to warm it up? With some suggestions/discussions I saw online, I found one that worked for me and-- bonus points--made it oh-so-easy for my Grands to say Thank You with immediacy.

Here's what I did. I sent each of my college-age Grands a text that started with some doggerel, "Your Holiday present is coming by Zelle/I think you'll find that works out well." Then I personalized each text with an upbeat rhyme or two for how they could use the gift--no strings attached, of course. I tapped send, opened my bank account's app and Zelled each one their gift. They no sooner got the text and the Zelle notice than a return text came back with a Thank You, heart emojis and a loving comment.

Bottom line: Gift sent, thank you received, don't have to think about it anymore.

Did any of you go the cash or gift card route this year? Did you find ways to make it look like the loving gift it was? Comment below with anything you're willing to share.

Credit: Louisiane Saint Fleurant

 

 

Grandparents and Holiday Gifts: Giving grandkids presents from our grown child's childhood.

Our social media feeds and retail websites are exploding with gift ideas for our grandkids--a dancing robot, AI Flying Orb, a remote-controlled spider. No wonder some of us are living a sentimental moment when we see in our attic or basement the adorable play kitchen our kids spent hours with or the 6-year-old-sized red roadster that once made its way up and down our halls. We've taken good care of these toys--even refurbished a dent or two--so why not offer them as holiday gifts to our Grands? Recycling raised to a delightfully nostalgic height.

The question is, can we--should we--unload the treasures from our children's childhood via holiday gifts to our grandkids?  They might make for a magical moment--and they might not.

 The "might not" falls under the heading of communication, as in, ask the parents if they think the gift might work. For instance, some toys may not trigger the happy feelings we think they should. Our kids may have had unpleasant experiences with neighbors when they took that roadster out for a ride on the sidewalk. Or they may think a toy they loved is not right for their child. Or their cramped city apartment may not have the space to house a play kitchen; there may be no storage space for large items. 

There's another point that toy historian Chris Byrne makes. That is, the toys our children played with when they were small children--and the way they played with them--helped form them as adults.  Stephen Sondheim, for instance, loved word games as a child. Playwright Terence McNally played constantly with a puppet theater. Byrne himself loved Matchbox cars. Does that mean the toys we saved from our children's youth are right for their children? Moreover, is there something to be said for keeping up with trends? Here's an excerpt from a Ted talk Byrne gave on the subject of toys and their ties to our personal history:

Widely popular toys are sometimes the first shared cultural experience many children ever have, and they can become cultural events as well. Think back of the fads of the past decades. We had Rubik's Cube, we had Cabbage Patch, Zhu Zhu Pets, Pet Rock, right? And now we're in the middle of Squishmallows.

But I truly think that when we look back at what we loved, we can see the seeds of who we were going to become,

personally and professionally. Now I grant you, this is much more an art than a science, but I believe that each of us has an inherent play style that's as unique as our fingerprints.

So before we tie a ribbon around it and lug the play kitchen over to our adult child's living room, we might want to talk to the parents about whether they want to impose their fingerprints on their child (our grandchild)--or just let them play with their mom's or dad's toys when they come to visit us. 

painting: Picasso

 

 

 

 

Gift Giving: Grrr. The frustration when a Thank You is not forthcoming.

Gratitude never goes out of season and yet, when it comes to our kids and grandkids, acknowledging a gift may not be "on trend" for them or, as the French so stylishly put it, pas au courant. The formal, hand-penned Thank You note has become outmoded for younger-than-us generations but neither an email, text nor cellphone call should be. Many of us have learned to accept the techie shortcuts. And yet, too often they too don't appear. It's particularly aggravating when it comes to kids and grandkids to whom we've sent monetary gifts. Since cash, gift card or Zelle are always the right color and fit, it's hard to accept that our grown kids or grandkids couldn't find a mini-minute to voice mail a Thanks for our largesse or text a Thx or TY.

It's a long-running frustration. You can read my previous posts on the point here, here and here.

I'm addressing the issue again because of an additional perspective I came across in a Michele Singletary (The Color of Money) column in the Washington Post.

Singletary starts off by standing by tradition: "Some gestures," she writes, "are timeless, such as sending a thank you note." But she also bows to the new reality and goes all-in for the teaching moment and the gentle reminder. Here are five of the suggestions Singletary offers for taking on a beloved giftee who has forgotten or failed to say Thanks.

Don’t compound the etiquette breach with a scolding. But it is appropriate to share your feelings.

Watch your tone. Approach it as a teaching moment, not a reprimand.

Also, explain that you’d like to know whether they received the gift. Postal mishaps and poor delivery might mean the gift never arrived.

If straight talk doesn’t work, be bold. The next gift could come with a box of thank-you cards.

Okay, maybe a handwritten note (or typed letter) or card isn’t necessary. But let the person know you still would like a call or even a text message.

Singletary ends with a droll take on the issue by Miss Manners (aka Judith Martin).

Reader's query: “I have heard that it is not proper to thank people for Christmas gifts. What is the official rule of etiquette about Christmas gifts?”

Miss Manner's reply: “Generosity and gratitude are permanently paired. Those would-be etiquetteers who declare expressing thanks to be no longer required have done only half the job. They must also then abolish the custom of giving — or, what always turns out to be the case with them — accepting presents.”

credit: painting by Frank Auerbach

Surviving Holiday Feasts: Getting the help you need

At a coffee with my friend C a week before Thanksgiving, she put her head in her hands and said, "I'm already tired." Now, C's husband does most of the Thanksgiving cooking but C does the cold dishes plus all the prep work--the constant shopping trips to supermarkets and farm markets and cleaning the house and the chef's spills--plus she sets up the table to accommodate a dozen guests (including two toddlers and one newborn), searches out the requisite number of plates and chairs for the crowd then arranges flowers and greens to beautify the table and the living room. Her bottom line: why couldn't her son and daughter-in-law take over the next holiday meal? They have a bigger house and more room for guests who are under five.

She is not alone in her forward thinking. In a November column Caroline Hax reported that she had just been on a video call with "multiple middle-aged women who all would preempt the holidays for exhaustion recovery."

Personally, I handed over the Thanksgiving dinner "privilege" to my DIL (and son) several years ago.  It was for practical reasons having to do with travel. But, whether it's practicalities or exhaustion, there comes a time when we pass the torch. In doing so we may find our kids simplify the festivities or change things up in a fun way. Our beloved traditions--the way we cooked the turkey; the heirlooms we used to set the table--may take hits but the world is changing and maybe the next generation's new way will take root and become a tradition.

A newsletter from Axios a week before Thanksgiving noted four ways to the week "a little less stressful and a little more joyful" --without veering too far from tradition or handing over the reins.  Here they are:

Shortcuts are fine — and delicious. Store-bought pies and dinner rolls are great, canned cranberry sauce is a classic, and Butterball even has a new cook-from-frozen turkey that comes pre-brined, so all you need to do is unwrap it and cook it.

Make it up! Don't feel limited by the traditional Thanksgiving lineup. If there's a side dish you often prepare and that feels easy and comfortable, add it to your menu. Tweak tradition.

Summon the troops! Whether you throw a BYOB dinner, ask guests to bring appetizers, or put them in charge of reheating the sides, lean on them to make your job easier. If you're a guest, ask what you can bring or if you're needed in the kitchen during crunch time.

Focus on the fun. If you're hosting Thanksgiving, there's probably one or two things about it that you especially like — maybe that's roasting the juiciest turkey, making a favorite family dish or decorating the table. Put extra care into the parts of Thanksgiving that make you happy, and use tips and tricks to get through the rest.

Hope these tips help ease your way. Happy Holidays.

painting: Cezanne

Surviving Thanksgiving Togetherness: 5 boundaries to keep the family in line during the "holidays"

Here they come again: The holidays and their feasts. As parents of adult children (and possibly as grandparents as well) we have our expectations of how joyous Thanksgiving dinner or the long weekend of togetherness will be--or how stressful and difficult. Whether we're hosting or another family member is, our grown children have their concerns too and they might be very different from ours. One thing we've got in common, though, is the need to set boundaries--about how much time we'll spend together, what are appropriate topics to discuss at dinner and how to deal with overly personal questions. No one wants to be asked how much weight they've gained or why their face looks so tired.

Psychotherapists suggest that setting a few boundaries ahead of time can help keep the celebrations wherever they take place pleasant and peaceful. In that spirit and hope, here are five suggested ways on how to work those boundaries into your family get-together. They are paraphrased and edited from this article in Bustle.

1. Set Conversation Limits: Talk around the table or pre- or post- dinner can turn tense when politics, religion, money or queries about the love life of a family member arise. Set limits on what's permissible and if anyone objects, remind them that everyone is here for a happy visit and we want everyone to have a good time. "Framing it as beneficial to them might inspire them to be more understanding."

2. Personalize Time Limits: Thanksgiving and the Christmas Holidays often come with various other family events or parties. It's easy to get overwhelmed, burnt out or stretched thin. So, decide how much time and energy you’re willing to allot to family events — and stick to it. The same goes true for understanding how much time and energy your adult kids want to expend.

3. Prepare Newcomers: If your kids (or you) are bringing a new partner or a guest, remind them to fill the newcomer in on family dynamics and traditions--things like dress code, topics of discussion and sleeping arrangements. The more you share with them, the smoother things will go.

4. Pre-Script Retorts: If you know the awkward questions specific family members might ask, be prepared with simple answers, such as "Thanks for asking, but I’m focusing on enjoying dinner.” Or if you know some family members are likely to comment on other family members' (or your)  weight, body shape and/or eating habits, you can be prepared with a universal rejoinder, such as  "Please do not comment on anyone's body.”

5. Take a Break: All of us need a breather when we're surrounded by more people and for longer times than we're used to. Give yourself permission to step away if you start feeling overwhelmed--and recognize that your adult kids, grandkids or other family members may have the same need. No need to take their stepping away personally.

painting: Norman Rockwell

 

 

 

 

 

Observation: An early 20th Century philosopher's take on parents and their grown children

We cling to the joy we remember from our early child-rearing days "in the hope of sucking vigour from its vitality." Thus wrote Philosopher and Logician Bertrand Russell in his essay, "How to Grow Old."

The early 20th century "influencer" didn't stop there. He also touched on parents and their relationship to their grown children, writing nearly a century ago:

When your children are grown up they want to live their own lives, and if you continue to be as interested in them as you were when they were young, you are likely to become a burden to them … I do not mean that one should be without interest in them, but one's interest should be contemplative and, if possible, philanthropic, but not unduly emotional.

He amplified his point about the personal dangers of being overly involved in our adult children's lives, and much of what he had to say--maintain your own interests; don't live your life around your children's lives--resonates today.

As to the dangers of not weaning ourselves from our day-to-day involvement in our adult children's lives, he wrote in his stiff and arch-like British prose:

But if you are one of those who are incapable of impersonal interests, you may find that your life will be empty unless you concern yourself with your children and grandchildren. In that case you must realise that while you can still render them material services, such as making them an allowance or knitting them jumpers, you must not expect that they will enjoy your company.

Russell was never one to sugarcoat anything, no less the parenting of adult children.

You can find even more about Russell's musings in this MSN essay What Do Adult Children Owe Their Parents?

painting: Bonnard, The Conversation.

Money Matters: Great expectations on gifts for new grandkids

A friend, C, called this morning. Distraught. Needing to vent. She was upset about expectations for a gift for a second grandchild who is due in a few months.  On a visit to her son and family over the weekend, C and her co-grandparent (D) had made an offer to their son and his wife: They would buy the basic room furnishings--crib and dresser--for the new baby, as they had for the first grandchild.

The son was appreciative, and the next day sent C a link to bed and dresser for their 4-year-old son--on the theory that the new baby would inherit the crib and dresser from their brother.

So far, so good--until my friend C opened the link. The bed and dresser were roughly five times what she and the grandpop thought they would spend as a gift--certainly, it was much more than the crib set they had sent as a gift four years earlier. True, there's been inflation and a bed and dresser for a young boy are more expensive than a crib and dresser for a baby. But my friend was outraged, in part at her son's expectations but also at the high-priced furniture he and his wife had chosen.

C is from the Midwest, born into a working-class family where money was tight and the idea of a gift for an adult child was a non-starter.  She admits her background colors the way she sees things. That said, she was stunned not only at the high price of the furniture but its cost in light of the upcoming expenses her son and his family faced for a new baby.

C told me that she and the grandpop had agreed that they couldn't afford the furniture the son and his wife had chosen and that they would instead offer a cash gift to be used for furniture or other expenses. This seemed like a reasonable and fair compromise. But then she went further: She wants to sit her son down and tell him his expenses are too high and that he has to trim down his choices for such items as a new bed and dresser for the older grandchild.

Does that cross a line? In today's world of parenting grown children, unless we the parents are asked to contribute in a major way, our adult child's family budget is none of our business. Not only that. Spending habits and pressures have changed since our generation and that may be why what seems a value issue ("They bought too expensive a house!") is more likely a financial fact of life. (Housing is more expensive today.)

The share of money going toward essentials like food, housing and medical care has dramatically changed in the past few decades. For instance, when some of us were our parents' young adult children, we didn't have to spend as much on health care, housing or education as young families do today. But we had to fork out more for food, clothing and transportation. This is according to a Washington Post analysis of Consumer Expenditure Survey data. And then, of course, there are costs we never faced: charges for Internet access, wi-fi, cell phones and all the accouterments of the modern digital age.

After C vented, she backed off the idea of intruding into her son's financial affairs. After all, it wasn't as though he and his wife were behind in mortgage payments, not paying utility bills or failing to provide food for the family. There were no red flags that would invite an intervention. It's just hard sometimes to sit back and watch our kids spend their money in ways we would not. But budgeting is an exercise in setting priorities. They have theirs and they may not be ours.

Painting: Vincent Van Gogh, The Blue Room

 

 

Grandparenting: Offering parenting advice to an adult child and family.

Our kids are having kids. We have grandkids! Such good news. But what happens when we believe our children are taking a wrong tack in parenting those children?

We know--or, if we've read any advice columns on the topic, should know--that the answer is, we keep our mouths shut. There are two important caveats to that rule. One is if there's abuse--physical or emotional. The other is, if our child asks us for our advice.

This latter exception can get complicated. We don't want to barge in (even with the door open) and tell the young parents what they're doing wrong or how we did it differently or better.

Here are some  approaches (edited for brevity) from Ask Sahaj  on how to respond if your child (let's say, a daughter) is struggling with parenting and asks you for advice:

Point One:

You want to let her know you are on her side, saying something enpathetic like. "You’re doing your best, and I see that.” Or responding to her emotional needs by focusing on her feelings, “What are you feeling right now?” Or, “It sounds like you are stuck and feel alone in this. What do you think will help you right now?”

Point Two:

Sometimes when people ask for advice, they might be seeking validation or help understanding the problem they are having. Clarify what she really needs from you by asking her, “I want to help you in whatever way is best for you. Would you like to hear my observations or would you like to vent about what’s going on?” You may even add, “If you aren’t sure what you need right now, maybe I can ask more questions to help us problem solve.”

Point Three:

If she wants to hear what you really think, consider naming your hesitation by saying something like, “I want to be honest since you are asking me to do so, but I worry that this will be hard to hear, and I don’t want to say anything to upset you.” When it’s time to give your honest opinion, be careful not to make blanket, judgmental statements (i.e. you’re always impatient!) and instead focus on specifics using I-statements to express what you’ve observed rather than making assumptions. This can sound like, “I know I don’t see everything, but I have noticed that you’ve been quick to get annoyed with the baby.”

To all of this Sahaj adds that it can help the young parent in your life to share a story about your own parenting struggles or something you read recently from an expert that's on point.

painting: by Berthe Morisot

 

 

On Estrangement: Joshua Coleman's counsel on reconciling with an adult child

What could be more painful than a deep and long-lasting rift with one's adult child? How does one bridge that gap?

 Joshua Coleman, a practicing psychologist who also researches estrangement preaches reconciliation. A key point he makes for parents in search of such a solution is for the parent to step up and make amends:

Parents are often confused by this recommendation, believing that making amends is the same as completely endorsing the child’s perspective. While sometimes that is required, more often amends should be viewed as a starting point; a frank recognition that there is something deeply wrong in the relationship with the parent that needs addressing.

How to go about it? Here's what Coleman advises his patients:

I encourage them to write a letter stating, “I know you wouldn’t have cut off contact unless you felt like it was the healthiest thing for you to do.” I say this because it’s true from the adult child’s perspective — even if not from the parent’s — and because it communicates the parent’s wish to understand and heal the distance.

...Yet, even if the cause of the estrangement lies more in the child than the parent, amends are still necessary from the parent to begin a conversation of repair. You don’t have to agree with your child to make amends. It’s about humility, not humiliation. While I don’t presume that a child’s perspective on their parent is accurate, I also don’t assume that a parent’s perspective on their child is either. We all have our blind spots.

For those interested in Coleman's line of thinking, his newest book is  “Rules of Estrangement: Why Adult Children Cut Ties and How to Heal the Conflict.”

credit: painting by Bonnard

Observation: Living within the limits of being a mother-in-law

I was lucky. My husband didn't get along with his mother but I did. She didn't interfere (as my mother did) and, unlike most women of her generation (my mother, again) she never had a negative word to say about my pursuit of a career.  Not that I sought her out as a confidant. But neither did I see her as an enemy or rival--or someone to be avoided. I was fortunate and so, I guess, was she.

What happens when we're not so lucky? When our child's chosen life partner doesn't like us--or makes themselves scarce whenever we appear at the door. Or sets limits on visiting hours. Or keeps us at a distance in myriad ways small and large.

This was an issue for a Carolyn Hax reader who wrote that his wife, who had had a challenging relationship with his parents (who were difficult and needed to be kept at a distance) was now struggling with boundaries set by their son and his wife. More specifically, as the reader/writer put it, the young couple were "limiting contact, contacting her on their schedule, etc. My wife ... complains incessantly to me that she does not hear from our son and daughter-in-law as often as she’d like, which would be multiple times a day. We do hear from them every week or so."

Hax beat right to the heart of the matter. What was past with the reader's parents was past. Today is what matters. Yes, the reader and his wife may feel hurt that the son and his wife don't call as often as they (the parents) would like--but they call. Maybe contact with the couple is circumscribed. But--and here Hax lays it on the line--it's up to the parents to comply with limits their adult children set. As Hax put it:

If you are on the cold side of a boundary, then there’s no better argument than to Back! Off! ....Respect for the couple’s space is the only answer.

credit: L. Saint Fleurant, Mother and Children

(I'll be addressing this issue again, in particular when it goes from the relatively benign (our adult child doesn't call often enough) to the truly malignant (our adult child no longer speaks to us). Psychologist Joshua Coleman has a book on the topic, "Rules of Estrangement: Why Adult Children Cut Ties and How to Heal the Conflict.”  I'll  sum up some of his points, but I can tell you--reader alert--that we the parents don't get an easy pass when it comes to the healing part.)

 

 

 

Grandparenting: Fun and games with grannie names

When I first learned I was going to become a grandma, I panicked. I told myself, "I'm not old enough to be called that." I was. I had already passed into my 60s. 

Much of my discomfort was with the aura around the name Grandma. This was also true for the person who was about to be called Grandpa. That's why we designed our own names, and we—and our grandkids—have lived happily with them. (I'm PenPen; he was BaPa.)

Recently I came across a piece by Linda Wolff that had fun with the names we grandmas choose to be called by our grandkids. Here's a taste of what she had to say (and a link to the rest of it):

Mimi: The name originates in the south though it oozes with French flare. Closest to mommy and might be confusing , but that's what therapy is for. Essentially Meemaw, but with more “Je ne sais quoi.” Mimis will have everyone (the kids, the dog, the neighborhood stray cat) eating out of your manicured hands. Shopkeepers will keep you on speed dial when your little Ella’s mini G-wagon rolls in.

Gigi: You’re not a regular grandma, you’re a cool grandma. You prefer Peach Bellinis to Kale Smoothies and relish the fact you allow the kidlets to nom nom chicken nuggets in your bed. You can be found prancing around town behind one of those new-fangled strollers. You dispense all your Gigi wisdom to future grandmas during mahjong and are famous for developing a Genovian accent every time you return from summers in Positano. You never turn on the white noise machine for the kidlets when you babysit. Who needs it when you’ve got the dulcet tones of Fluffy, your snoring Goldendoodle?

Yaya: Like a warm summer breeze, you’re probably sunning in Mykonos instead of watching your baby’s babies. That’s ok, this will remind them to accept your offer to vacation together the next time you offer them a plane ticket. First class only, of course.

Lili, Lala, Cookie, Babka: You’re wise beyond your years and have come to the conclusion that the baby will call you whatever it damn well pleases based on whatever they can pronounce. So you just keep bringing tins of cookies and whisper “I’m your favorite” as you rock little Ceecee into sweet slumber.

painting: Frida Kahlo

Empty Nest: Support for the college-dropoff blues

My yoga teacher is a single mom. She dropped her only child off at college a few weeks ago. The daughter is a freshman and this is the first prolonged time away from home. My yoga teacher came back a day after the drop-off with bouyant tales of the move-in, the roommate, the campus. This week she and a student who'd been absent from class for several months--a dad who dropped his child off for freshman week at college two weeks ago--commiserated with each other after class. I was busy rolling up my yoga mat and putting my props away but I overheard talk of the sadness each felt. "We--you and your wife--should get together," my yoga teacher said. "We have to support each other."

There has always been a sadness--mixed with positive excitement--when our kids leave home and the nest is empty. And now, it seems, there's a lot more reaching out for support--or acknowledging that we need support.  Is it different from the days--a generation or more ago--when we dropped our kids off and came home to an empty and eerily silent house? Evidently it is today in that we the parents are not keeping our woes bottled up inside and at home.

A recent Axios newsletter reported the following tidbits about the current state of empty nest adjustment:

Many first-year college students from different states, backgrounds and majors have one thing in common: stressed-out parents struggling with the separation.

Parents are using tech to track their kids, micromanaging orientation week and even having dorm sleepovers.

As to the support side of the equation, Axios reports:

Parents' stress is on display in online forums and Facebook groups, where parents are asking questions and offering emotional support to one another.

On these online groups and forums parents ask about minute-to-minute details of orientation, for advice from other parents for advice on their kids' roommate woes and where to shop for basic toiletries.

The "good news" on this support network: If we're turning to Facebook groups or making dates with friends to talk about our worries and separation issues that may mean we're not bugging our kids. Go Class of 2028!

painting: Renoir, "Oarsmen at Chatou"

Vacation Togetherness: Seven tips to keep a get-away with grown kids running smoothly

'Tis almost the end of the season to revel in summer vacations with our grown kids and possibly grandkids. It's also the start of thinking about next year or a winter-holiday getaway with the kids.

So, here's an underlying truth to think about. Whether we're paying all or some of the tab, traveling to an exotic place, staying put in a beach or ski house or setting up tents in the great outdoors, we go into our vacations with high hopes: Everyone will enjoy being with each other. Everyone will be on their best behavior--we're all relaxed and on vacation, right?

We know there's a flaw in the logic. Everyone--our kids, their significant others, the grandkids, the whoever-elses included in our family vacation--brings themselves not some new iteration of themselves. Grownup brothers with gripes going back to their childhood may still get ticked off at a minor slight; boisterous grandkids may be irritating as 5:00 rolls around and we're ready to nurse a glass of wine.

We can't control others. We can, though, take some tips from various experts on how to keep the family togetherness as pleasurable as possible.

Space Out: Buy as big a tent (or several), rent as many hotel rooms or as capacious an Airbnb as you can afford. That leaves everyone--and I'm thinking of myself here--room to escape from whatever irritant is around.

Lower the Temperature: Steer clear of touting the vacation as the greatest opportunity to see the world or to have a fantastic family reunion. Keep expectations on the down-low. This is especially true if you're splurging on a pricey vacation. As one clinical psychologist put it in a NYTimes story, we may feel like our family members are "going to reward our efforts and our money spent with good behavior." They are not.

Build in Alone Time: Although we love our children, grandchildren and assorted relatives, we also need downtime without them. Many of us are no longer used to being surrounded by lots of people all day long. We need to take a walk, go out for tea or a beer, or find a quiet place to read or just plain think.

Spread the Planning Around: Check with everyone--including the grandkids--on what they'd like to do on any given day (or in planning the vacation). Even if their wishes can't be met, everyone is likely to feel better if they've had a voice in a plan.

Opt Out: As we get older we may have to be more realistic about what we can do physically. As the NYTimes story put it, "Halfway up a steep set of cathedral stairs isn't a great time to realize some travelers should have passed on the outing."  Not that we have to be stay behind. One friend who's recuperating from a pulled hamstring says she went with everyone to the foot of a mountain trail her kids and grandkids were going to climb. But she brought along a book and found a shaded spot to wait for their return and tales of their adventure.

Be Prepared: It's not just physical limits that need to be taken into account--so do such realities as stroller policies, the availability of bathrooms and alternative transportation. That is, check on the availability and costs of cabs, Uber/Lyft and other means of making a side trip easier on and more comfortable for everyone.

Account for Costs: Before anyone steps into their car, onto a plane or hauls themselves onto a cruise ship, all adults should know in advance who's paying for what--or, if we're picking up the tab, what's included in our largesse.

This is not my first post on vacation togetherness. I've written about these and similar issues here and here and here.

painting: Travel Jetty at Trouville, Eugene Boudin

Money Matters: Who's picking up the check?

Many of us have been here: We've fallen into the habit of picking up the bill when we take our grown child out for dinner. If we're not struggling to pay our own bills, we feel good about indulging a child who's just starting to make their way in the world.

Even as our kids establish themselves--pair up with a significant other, start a family, earn a stable living--we continue the pick-up-the-check routine. Old habits die hard. But we also reach a point where it would be nice if they pulled out their credit card (or phone with its digital wallet) and paid for dinner or just a share of it.

For some of us, the gesture occasionally happens. For others, getting stuck with the bill is frustrating. We may worry that our son or daughter has succumbed to a sense of entitlement. We may feel frustrated about the expectations of our seemingly oblivious child. How to break the cycle and keep resentment of our darling child from creeping in? Philip Galanos' Social Qs. has the almost perfect answer. It's short, it's sweet and it's just a line to tag onto an invite to meet up for a dinner out. Any variation of it will do:

“Bring your wallet. Dad and I think we should take turns paying the bill.”

As Galanos notes, many adult children need a nudge into grown-up arrangements with their parents. I pass this along as a non-threatening and perfectly pleasant nudge.

painting: Pierre Bonnard, The Conversation

Emptry Nests: Do we want our adult kids to live at home again?

Emotional Misery. That's what I remember about those first few months of becoming an empty nester. After we sent our youngest child off to college, my husband and I had the blues all through that September. There was a sadness in coming home from work to a house that was too quiet--no music seeping through the walls, no basketball being bounced indoors. I missed the excitement and tension my children injected into the house.

Then I got used to it. My spouse and I started building a life that no longer centered around being responsible for the everyday lives of our children.

After a few years of living this less stressful way of life, our oldest child, the one who had been living on the other coast for a while, came home for the summer with a boyfriend in tow. Her dad was thrilled. Of course he was. He had helped get her a summer internship with a Congressman and now he, who had worked for the Congress for many happy years, would be able to see her experience unfold before his eyes.

I did not feel the same way. Here's what I wrote in my journal:

 "I am filled with ambivalency. Mike and I have this quiet but very pleasant life together. I'm able to pay close attention to his needs; there's no competition for my time. And it is not half bad being detached from your children's concerns on a daily basis, being off the roller coaster. Susan [a friend] has similar concerns with her two sons coming home this summer."

For all the sadness we go through when our children move out, are we ready and willing to go back to the old routines if they return? Clearly, I wasn't sure. We hadn't repurposed our daughter's room--she could move right back in. But my summer would now be filled with responsibilities--for regular meals, for advice (or making sure we didn't butt in if we weren't asked), for observing up close and personally what was going on in our child's 20-something life.

Of course, she was now an independent young woman. She didn't want to be coddled or treated as the teenager she was when she first left home. Within days of her arrival she went to work for six weeks in a Congressman's office and the boyfriend, who hoped to become a winemaker, had gotten a job at an upscale food emporium that sold high-end wine. The summer of a refilled nest looked promising. And in ways it was positive. My daughter and I were able to take long walks (and talks) and we got to know the boyfriend (they had talked about marriage) better.

So here was the downside. The internship turned out to be a mini-disaster. She hated the job with good reasons. The Congressman was an old-school sexist and she found many of the demands of the job demeaning.  She wasn't political; what she liked was going to Congressional hearings (and taking notes for the congressman). But she was often called out of the hearing to drive a constituent to the airport. There were other bumps in the road. She received word that a master's program at Stanford had turned her down, although she admitted the program was designed for those who already had advanced degrees and she didn't have one. Nonetheless, she was disappointed and we felt it.

The bottom line is that, after a year or two of being an empty nester, I had gotten used to it. Liked it. And I didn't want to be so close to the roller coaster again.

painting: House on a Hill by Edward Hopper

 

Competitive Grandparenting: The deep-seated drive to outshine the other grandparents

My children don't live near me. Which means my grandchildren don't either. Which means the gramps and I have never been able to go to every soccer game, piano concert, or other event our grandkids participated in. The other grandparents don't live nearby either. All of which means I have never had the impetus to think about how much time the other grandparents were spending with my grandkids as opposed to time I was spending with them. We did what we could to see the grandkids as often as possible, as did the other grandparents.

It's been a blessing. We aren't particularly close to our co-grandparents, but there's goodwill between us. And yet, I have friends who don't feel as similarly blessed. One doesn't live near her grandkids and worries that the other grandparents, who do live nearby, will be more beloved because they spend more time with the grandkids.  Another is concerned that the other grandparents will be favored because they are wealthy and take the grandkids on grand vacations and buy them lavish gifts.

I've heard my fill of complaints along these angst-ridden lines but never one quite as raw as one in a Carolyn Hax column. A mother wrote in to say her mother-in-law treats being a grandmother like it’s a competition and keeps track of her time with the grandkids, as in “the other grandparents got them for two nights last month, we only got one!” and “I saw that your Mimi got you three books last week! Here’s four and a candy!” 

Hax turned to her readers for answers on understanding the bean-counting grandma and what dangers lay ahead for her. Here are some points from those wise readers:

Answer One

We grandmas can feel insecure sometimes about how important we are to kids and grandkids when our lives are no longer as full of other things. And, really, we know how brief the young years are for kids and the looming end of our own active years.

Are there ways to support the annoying grandma in feeling okay in her role, emphasizing how she interacts with the kids, and de-emphasizing the gifts and all?

 Answer Two

No way around it, you’re going to have to sit down and confront your mother-in-law. Point out that her obsessive behavior is hurting her child, her grandchildren, you and your parents, and it has to stop... Create a list of what is and is not acceptable and stick to it.

Answer Three: 

I had a grandmother like this! I don’t think she anticipated how quickly we kids would get wise to these dynamics; her complaining and one-upping drove us away, too.

The real risk is that your mother-in-law inadvertently alienates her grandchildren as they grow. If you want to broach this with her, .... explain that her complaining may make them feel like they did something wrong, or put them in uncomfortable positions.

I have been giving this dynamic some thought as well. There's no real accounting for why our grandkids favor us with their love. They may respond to our unconditional acceptance, unrushed time or willingness to read a story dramatically. I only know that, in my family, the gramps (my spouse) was not a roll-on-the-floor kind of granddad. He rarely joined in board games or played a part in a skit. But on one of his Big Birthdays, when the grands were asked to say something special to him, one of them (an 11-year-old) said this: "Bapa, what I love about you is the way you ask me interesting questions and you always listen to my answer."

Do we need any more than that?

painting: Emma Amos, Two W0men Standing

 

Observations: How to deal with rude comments or questions about our loved ones.

Our grandkids are the best--precious, smart, beautiful. But what do we do if someone sees their photograph and makes an unflattering or rude comment about them? Or asks why they are so "wild" at family get-togethers?  Or makes a negative rhetorical statement about someone we love. A friend who met my family for the first time at a social gathering told me later that she was surprised at how "ugly" one of those family members was.

People say the oddest and rudest things. (My friend was on her third glass of wine, which may explain why she felt free to share her observation.)

How to respond to this sort of commentary? In her column, Ask Sahaj, the columnist dealt with a grandmother whose friends often made intrusive or rude remarks about the racial makeup of her 7-year-old granddaughter's appearance. Sahaj's advice applies to a multitude of rude commentary situations: 

When someone says something that is rude, sometimes the best response is to not respond to it at all. Simply, you can redirect the conversation. This may sound like, “She’s really sweet and loves …” Or, “I really love how she …” By redirecting the focus on your granddaughter’s personality or interests, you demonstrate that it’s not important to focus on her racial identity and that there are far more interesting things about her.

The NYTimes carried a column that promised "a magic phrase to defeat nosy questions," which some of their professional experts referred to as "predatory curiosity." The kinds of questions in question were ones like, "Why don't you have grandchildren?" or "Why doesn't your daughter have a second child?"

What was the magic phrase? Well, there were two, plus a reminder that you do not have to respond to personal and intrusive questions or commentary.

1. In a calm, neutral tone, simply say, “I’d rather not talk about it." It's a phrase that can be used in many different settings.

2. Say firmly some variation on, "“Thanks for your concern, I appreciate it. I’m doing just fine.”

The intrusive questions may never stop. One psychotherapist--a woman who is Sri Lankan American--tries to see the humor in the family prodding.

She notes that Sri Lankan aunties "can be ruthless."At family gatherings, they constantly asked her when she would marry — and after she was married, the pregnancy queries began. After her fourth child,  “they were like, ‘When are you going to stop having kids?’”

painting: Picasso

 

Grandparenting: That "feeling ignored" feeling

Sometimes we're upset at our grandkids over the unwritten thank you note. or the failure to acknowledge a birthday or a special visit. Or forgetting to answer a text or phone call--or initiate one. When our grandkids (or adult kids) seem oblivious to our existence, we feel like we aren't part of their family and we're annoyed at and frustrated with those we love.

This ignored or left-out feeling tends to worsen as our grandkids morph into teenagers and young adults. Just as they're marching toward independence and pushing their parents away, we might be stuck in that wake.

Should we say something? Do something? And if so, what?

Here's some tough advice on that question from askingeric who's responding to a widowed step-grandmother who visits and sends money or cash cards as gifts to the step-grandkids regularly.

[T]urn off the ATM, at least temporarily. You’re showing love and care by sending money, but because it’s not reciprocated, it’s become commodified. It’s not your fault, but it’s easy to feel like you’re not getting a return on your investment. Removing money from the equation will clear the way for you to have a conversation with your grandchildren individually. It doesn’t have to be long or overwrought. Say to them, “I love you and I miss you. I need you to call me once a month” (or whatever cadence feels right to you). “Put it on your calendar. This is the way that you can show me that you value me.”

Hold them to it. Sometimes the best way to show someone that you love them is to say, “This relationship isn't working for me; here's how we can make it work together.”

painting: Emile Bernard, Breton Woman with Red Umbrella

Tracking Apps: Young adults need to grow into independence. Tracking them blocks that.

"Almost all my friends track their college-age kids." This is my daughter-in-law speaking, though she is not among the trackers. She lives in a medium-size city far from the perils of major urban hubs. But her fellow parents, she says, want the reassurance that their young adult child arrived safely at wherever it is they are going--whether they are traveling by bike, a friend's car or an Uber, whether they are away at college or in a workplace.

A few posts ago, I wrote about a mom who was worried about whether she should still be tracking her college-age kids (by air tags, as opposed to smartphone app to which her children objected); she had a friend who was still tracking her married 24-year-old daughter.

I am of a generation that is less familiar with and less attuned to smartphone's abilities to keep tabs on one another. So I was stunned to hear about all this tracking, which is why I blogged about it, why I mentioned it to my daughter-in-law and why her answer was equally surprising. Then I came across an issue of Axios, a newsletter that is usually about politics. This time it was about "parents' unprecedented ability to keep tabs on their kids."

How many parents do it? A lot. A survey by a cybersecurity company (Malwarebytes) found that 84% of U.S. parents use some form of tracking to monitor their kids.  One of the most popular apps lets parents know when their child walks into a friend's house, whether they're driving too fast and a complete history of their movements over a weekend. Some apps let parents of college-age kids know whether their child made it to their math class.

A bit of tracking may be useful with young children and even teens, but for young adults going to college or starting off life outside the parental home, leaving is a major step toward independence. By tracking the minutia of our adult children's daily lives we're taking that away, or as Axios put it, "the opportunity to make mistakes, skip  class and feel the repercussions and figure it out for themselves."

I asked a 22-year-old about the tracking of young adult kids. "One needs to learn self-regulatory skills and you aren't going to if your parents are monitoring you all the time,"  she told me, adding, "If you can't get to class without your mom checking on you, you'll never want to go to class and never know how to make yourself do something."

I'll end with the Axios newsletter's concluding quote:

"You're providing your child with training wheels. They're going to have to come off."

painting: "Red Dance," Kenneth Young

Rebalancing Acts: When our kids become our social advisers

I was invited to a pool party.

It was last minute. Casual. A text read, "You are invited to pool dip and also dinner tomorrow Saturday night here. Come anytime afternoon. Cupla folks you'll like."

I went into panic mode. I would know no one but the host--an editor I'd met years ago during my freelance days and maintained a pleasant on-and-off friendship with over the years. He'd been especially kind when my husband was ill--taking me out to lunch; emailing me jokes. But I didn't know his wife, no less the "cupla friends."

Although I was now a widow, it's not as though I'd never navigated socially on my own. During my days as a reporter and editor, I went to receptions and cocktail parties on my own. It wasn't scary. The people there would be connected to the beat I covered; it would be easy to start a conversation. But this was different. I wouldn't have the anchor of a friend, co-worker or husband to seek out if I was floundering socially.

My first thought: I can't do this. How do I say no nicely? I went for a walk with a fellow widow to see how she would handle declining the invitation. "You have to go," she said. "You shouldn't lock yourself up in your apartment." We came up with a strategy that I thought I could handle: Go for the swim but find an excuse not to stay for dinner.

I got back to my apartment and called my daughter-in-law. She and my son have a pool as do several of their friends. She would know pool party protocols and whether I needed to bring a host gift. Her advice: wear your bathing suit under a skirt or dress; stuff underwear into your purse. If you're not staying for dinner, don't worry about a gift.

I was still uneasy. I FaceTimed with my daughter. She keyed in on why I was so stressed, on what was provoking my unease and what did I see as the worst-case scenario of being at a pool party. It was the usual social anxiety: I would know no one, have no one to talk to, be a loner paddling around in a swimming pool full of jolly people who all knew each other.

Then my daughter put on her daughter. My 21-year-old granddaughter is into clothes styling. I asked her what to wear and if I should bring a towel.

Her answer was definitive. "PenPen," she said, "no one goes into the water at a pool party! There won't be any swimming. Wear a loose dress that looks like you could be wearing a bathing suit under it or wear a bathing suit under it. You will not need a towel."

I tell you the long version of this episode (minus the full-blown anxiety attack on Saturday afternoon; the first few months of being a widow are not easy) because it struck me that, after years of being an adviser to my children, that world had turned upside down. I was turning to my children for advice--on what to wear, how to behave and, most importantly, how to get on top of my anxieties. They were, in effect, parenting me.

I have written about this rebalancing of roles before. I saw it happen during the pandemic, to friends and even to my husband and me, although we weren't asking for advice so much as receiving it. Our kids would try to tell us what we should and should not do to stay safe. When my husband and I got Covid (this was pre-vaccine and our cases were not life-threatening), they conferred with our doctors, sent medical supplies (oximeters, blood pressure cuffs) and tapped into their suddenly-acquired medical knowledge to advise us.

Maybe because we're over 65 and of an age where we are considered especially vulnerable to the flu, a heat wave or whatever else is going around, our kids now worry about us the way we did about them. And when we have social questions--what to wear, how long to stay at a party, what kind of gift to bring--we turn to them. They are the experienced hands, the folks who are up-to-date. All of a sudden they've acquired the know-how to advise us.

If you're interested in a pool party update: The editor's wife was welcoming, kind and charming. There was only one other couple ("cupla" was literal) and they were delightful to talk to. We sat on the edge of the pool, dangled our feet and had a drink. I left before dinner.  There was no swimming.

 paintings: top, Renoir, The Boating Party; bottom,  Kay Hibbard, Beachcombers

 

Leaving a Legacy:The Great Transfer of Wealth from us to our adult kids. Is it for real?

Here's what the headlines tell us: The greatest wealth transfer in history is here and we are the source of those assets. Yes. Some $84 trillion in our investment accounts, wallets and collectibles are set to change hands over the next 20 years, according to various economists whose job it is to run the numbers and make forecasts.

As far back as history goes, parents have passed on--transferred--to their children their acquired wealth. But something different is going on today. First off, there's exponentially more accumulated wealth involved thanks to a booming economy that started gaining traction after World War II and has continued to make gains. In 1989, for instance, total family wealth in the U.S. was $38 trillion (adjusted for inflation). By 2022, that wealth had tripled to $140 trillion.

Along with that, there's a large base making that distribution. Some 73 million baby boomers are aging and are beginning to reach the end of their life cycle. So there are a lot of us who are about to spread that wealth around via our wills and estates, such as they are.

Not all boomers are equal of course. Some of us will leave our children a few thousand dollars, a home or not much at all. Inequality reigns. But plenty of us may be able to pass along thousands if not a few million dollars worth of assets. The recipients will be our adult children and our grandchildren, that is Gen X (born between 1965 and 1980), millennials (1981-1996) and Gen Z (1997-2012).

The transfer is already underway, thanks to how generous many of us who have the wherewithal have been.  As I've noted in previous posts, we have been sharing our good fortune in the here and now--helping our children with a downpayment on a house, paying their way through college or gifting them money for an entrepreneurial venture. As a New York Times  article on the Great Transfer put it:

Heirs increasingly don’t need to wait for the passing of elders to directly benefit from family money, a result of the bursting popularity of “giving while living” — including property purchases, repeated tax-free cash transfers of estate money, and more — providing millions a head start.

Similarly, with a headline that read, "What does it take to buy a house? Increasingly, Mom and Dad," the Washington Post reported that "nearly 1 in 5 young adults said their parents have helped with rent or mortgage payments in the past year."

More specifically:

In 1994, 1.6 percent of first-time home buyers under 35 had a co-borrower age 55 or older. By 2022, after a pandemic-era spike, that figure had more than doubled to 3.7 percent, matching a high set in 2015.

A separate analysis of federal mortgage data set by Redfin suggests the trend in co-signers above 55 years old on younger home buyers’ purchases picked up even more in 2023.

But is the Great Wealth Transfer for real? Will we be able to pass on the enormity of our assets? I have my doubts.

I'm no economist and one anecdote does not a dent in an economic forecast make. But I know from my recent personal experience, it is jarringly and horrifyingly expensive to care for an infirm spouse and/or for a frail and ill us. We are not necessarily dying at 80 (as the economists figure in their forecasts) --we're living into our 90s. Not all of us will get there, of course, but more to the point, will we age into our 80s and  90s with our minds and bodies intact. I can tell you, the costs of caring for a spouse who has had a debilitating stroke or is suffering from dementia or Parkinson's disease--to name three of the top health debilitators among the elderly--can wipe out savings in a flash.

But that's a blog post for another day. Meanwhile, let's just be grateful if we are among those who benefitted from an enormous economic expansion. It helped us pull together a small pot of wealth with which we can help our adult children now and, if we're lucky, boost our grandkids later. Let's hope our kids are able to benefit from the Great Wealth Transfer.

painting: "The Ferryman," Ivan Canu

 

 

 

 

 

 

The App World: Should we be tracking our grown children?

Am I showing my age and my app ignorance? Well, I certainly felt the former and learned a lot about the latter from a Carolyn Hax column. The column dealt with a reader's query about tracking her young adult children--children who are in college and no longer living at home.

The parent wrote that "EVERY single one [of her friends] still tracks their 'kids'! Including one with a married 24-year-old daughter."

The tracking is done via a phone app and/or by airtags (I had to look it up; in case you do too, they're the tags you can use to track where your keys, laptop or lost airline luggage are hiding.) The Hax correspondent writes that when her oldest child (now 20 years old) went to college, "we took the app off their phone but could see where they were through AirTag/item trackers." Now the 18-year-old wants their phone to be tracker-free. The parent's question for Hax:

"I rationally agree and would have been horrified to be “tracked” in college by my parents. Am I in a bubble with my other midlife anxious friends who are parents of newly launched adults? I will deal with getting rid of the app, but I wonder if we are outliers with this technology."

Readers, am I the only one shocked by this tracking of adult children, of being able to see where they are every minute, of this intrusion on their independence and privacy?

Evidently not. So was Hax. The opening sentence of her answer was this:

I don’t care whether you are outliers with this technology. Or inliers, downliers or fierypantsliars. Stop tracking your kids. It encourages more anxiety than it eases, at the cost of their independence and your trust in one another. And yourselves.

She also makes this important point that underlies almost everything we do vis-a-vis parenting our children:

The part of child rearing where you control your kids starts ending in utero and ends-ends when they’re 18. It just does. Your job thereafter is all relationship, which is equally at your and your kids’ discretion.

Hax summed up her long answer (which tackled the role the reader's anxieties play) with this bit of perspective:

Yay to trackers for wilderness adventurers, solo travelers, at-risk minors, people with developmental, cognitive, memory issues that make wandering a serious risk. When trackers help families in hard circumstances, great.

But a typical launch isn’t a hard circumstance. It’s life. So please stop grasping for access on an it-won’t-help-to-know basis. You all will be fine, or won’t, and it 99-point-whatever won’t hinge on this.

Hax is a sensitive writer attuned to her audience. I picked up a similar sentiment on an impersonal  Q/A post about tracking apps.  It, too, said all there is to say about tracking our adult kids.

AirTags Can Negatively Affect Parent-Child Relationship

Things can also get tricky when it comes to older kids and teens. While it can reduce your anxiety as a parent, tracking without consent can erode trust.

painting: Emma Amos, Self Portrait