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

Observation: Offering unsolicited advice to grown children is a no-win.

When it comes to raising their children, our sons and daughters are not perfect. Or maybe they are but their spouses have too heavy or light a hand. Correcting behavior or disciplining their children is a touchy business and when we get to see it up close and personally, we may not like it. We may even think they are taking the wrong approach--either too tough or not tough enough. We worry about our grandkids' pysches.

We need to get over it. When it comes to general advice, our kids rarely want to hear from us if they haven't asked. Child-raising advice doubles the ante. We can't win by butting in or making suggestions later.

Philip Galanes of Social Q's may or may not have to live with the zipped-shut mouth within his own family but he gives similar council more elegantly and with more practicality than I do. Here's his answer to a woman whose daughter-in-law yelled at and, from the grandmother's perspective, belittled her 17-year-old son during a family meal. After the event, the woman offered her daughter-in-law what she described as  "some advice you can take or leave.”  Result: daughter- in- law will no longer take her calls.

After advising the writer  to "Keep apologizing at regular intervals and hope for the best," Galanes offers this suggestion. It applies to all of us who have the urge to intervene when we see our grown children discipline their children and are sure we know a better way. (We may, but we've already had our shot.)

...If one person is treating another badly, the immediate need is comforting the victim, not asserting dominance over the aggressor. Better to have taken your grandson to a skateboard shop (or anyplace he likes), spoken to him kindly and let him vent. That may have done him some good and given you more context for understanding his difficulties with his mother, rather than starting a war with her that you can never win.

 

Emerging Adults: Big adjustments ahead as teenage kids morph into independent adults.

He's a psychologist who specializes in adolescence but Carl Pickhardt also has a lot to say about the next stage: young adults (roughly twenty-somethings)  and their natural and inevitable  independence from us, their loving and occasionally controlling parents. In a recent newsletter, he laid out the basic changes in our relationship with our grown-up young 'uns. This period of development, he notes,  is a time when our children have gained "functional independence and a sense of identity." That is, our newly minted adults should be able to tell themselves, "I’m on my own and I know who I am.” 

In the real world, young adults have their struggles coming to terms with this sense of independence and self awareness, but so do we. Let me quote Pickhardt on the range of losses we may feel as the transition takes place:

• Demotion: parents lose positional superiority. Interpersonal standing is now equitized.  “I can’t pull rank of ruling authority anymore.”

• Distance: parents lose central importance. Parents become more peripheral to young adult life. “I’m more of an outsider now.”

• Disappointment: parental expectations are unmet. Old dreams do not match the emerging reality.  “He didn’t turn out all the ways I anticipated.”

• Disapproval: parents don't like some daily decisions being made. In the young person’s place, they would choose differently.  “We don’t agree with her priorities.”

• Diversity: parents lose some old sense of similarity. The adult child life is increasingly unfamiliar. “Her lifestyle is so different from ours.”

• Despondency: parents lose accustomed contact. Primary intimacy and importance are found elsewhere. “I miss the old closeness we used to share.”  

• Deprivation: parents lose current information. They feel more out of touch with what is happening.  “I'm not regularly told what is going on.”

• Directness: parents lose spontaneity of communication. There is more talking carefully.  “I’m more diplomatic about what I say and how I say it.

How to adjust--while doing no harm. Pickhardt has a warning on how important it is that our children make the transition.

Proceeding as though your adult child will stay as family-centered as the adolescent usually doesn’t work too well. Instead, by emphasizing certain parental roles, more closeness can often grow. A few suggestions follow. 

• Parents can become cheerleaders – celebrating accomplishments.

• Parents can become supporters – providing listening. 

• Parents can become motivators – encouraging effort.

• Parents can become followers – expressing interest

• Parents can become mentors – advising when asked.

• Parents can become companions – providing welcome company.

• Parents can become independents – leading separate lives.

• Parents can become informants – sharing home and family news.

• Parents can become helpers – being on family call.

• Parents can become requestors -- asking for assistance.

It's the future we have been building towards--that day when our children will be independent, sentient beings who'll mature into adults who can, let us all hope, live productive lives and rise to the occasion of caring for us in our dotage.

 

Holidays with Grown Children: The good, better and stress of family togetherness

Why say it again. Here's a re-run from a year or two ago about the sweetness and the challenges of a "one big happy family" Thanksgiving.

            

 

Thanksgiving is a family get-together favorite--for the most part.

It's easy because there are no gifts, decorations or other "extras" to drive everyone to hyperventilate.

It's fun because it's a  gathering of several generations of family under one roof--plus the occasional "orphan" or two, which usually brightens the conversation.

It's simple because the meal is pre-ordained. In our family, we've settled into a routine of who will do what--especially the vegan variations. (Shout out to Whole Foods for its very edible vegan fruit pies and pumpkin pie.)

That said, Thanksgiving isn't all that stress free, especially for the parents of the grown children and the grandparents of their children. When the holiday means three to four days at the home of one of one's grown children--when the mantle of hosting has passed to the next generation--there can be a lot of uncomfortable "down time."

We who provide extra helping hands in the kitchen (the stuffing/dressing is my domain) do not feel it as much as those not drawn to kitchen duties. This was especially true this year when one of the Grands in whose home Thanksgiving now takes place turned 16 and was the very proud possessor of a brand-new driver's license. He was Volunteer #1 for any and all errands and store pick-ups. That meant Paterfamilias, who usually broke up the "down" time by running errands, was out of a job. Not fired so much as by-passed.

"Down" time aside, when our grown children and their spouses get together--our children don't live near each other or us--there is a lot of reconnecting. We see each of our grown children and their children several times during the year, but our grown children have fewer face-to-faces with each other. Long and short of it: We're a bit of a fifth wheel at the reunion. It is so wonderful to have both our children and all our grands together under one roof for at least 24 hours, but it is also a battle to feel relevant and be heard.

We should remember--though it's hard to reconcile ourselves to--Lao Tze's philosophic advice:

Your silence is as beautiful as the Harvest moon.

In another bit of poetic advice ("for the second half of life"), Lao Tze says this (as re-interpreted by William Martin in The Sage's Tao Te Ching):

Whatever your losses,

hope and happiness can be yours.

Act each day with compassion

for yourself and others.

Let each inhalation bring you peace

and each exhalation dispel your fears.

            

 

Thanksgiving is a family get-together favorite--for the most part.

It's easy because there are no gifts, decorations or other "extras" to drive everyone to hyperventilate.

It's fun because it's a  gathering of several generations of family under one roof--plus the occasional "orphan" or two, which usually brightens the conversation.

It's simple because the meal is pre-ordained. In our family, we've settled into a routine of who will do what--especially the vegan variations. (Shout out to Whole Foods for its very edible vegan fruit pies and pumpkin pie.)

That said, Thanksgiving isn't all that stress free, especially for the parents of the grown children and the grandparents of their children. When the holiday means three to four days at the home of one of one's grown children--when the mantle of hosting has passed to the next generation--there can be a lot of uncomfortable "down time."

We who provide extra helping hands in the kitchen (the stuffing/dressing is my domain) do not feel it as much as those not drawn to kitchen duties. This was especially true this year when one of the Grands in whose home Thanksgiving now takes place turned 16 and was the very proud possessor of a brand-new driver's license. He was Volunteer #1 for any and all errands and store pick-ups. That meant Paterfamilias, who usually broke up the "down" time by running errands, was out of a job. Not fired so much as by-passed.

"Down" time aside, when our grown children and their spouses get together--our children don't live near each other or us--there is a lot of reconnecting. We see each of our grown children and their children several times during the year, but our grown children have fewer face-to-faces with each other. Long and short of it: We're a bit of a fifth wheel at the reunion. It is so wonderful to have both our children and all our grands together under one roof for at least 24 hours, but it is also a battle to feel relevant and be heard.

We should remember--though it's hard to reconcile ourselves to--Lao Tze's philosophic advice:

Your silence is as beautiful as the Harvest moon.

In another bit of poetic advice ("for the second half of life"), Lao Tze says this (as re-interpreted by William Martin in The Sage's Tao Te Ching):

Whatever your losses,

hope and happiness can be yours.

Act each day with compassion

for yourself and others.

Let each inhalation bring you peace

and each exhalation dispel your fears.

Parenting Adult Children: Are we doing more for our grown kids than they want us to do?

oil on canvas, R. Lemov

We love to do things to help out our adult children. It may be little things like packing up lots of leftovers to send home after Sunday dinner. Or sharing access to our Netflix account. Or babysitting so new parents can enjoy a date night.

Little things mean a lot. But sometimes we step over the line. When my mother flew up from Florida for her semi-annual two-week visits, I would go off to work and she would give my kitchen a top-to-toe scrub, including re-organizing my pantry and re-arranging my plants. I resented it. This was not help I asked for or wanted.

Maybe that's why I reacted viscerally to a recent commentary cum question from a Social Qs reader about a mother-in-law who seemed to have lost her sense of boundaries.

Returning home from a trip during which my in-laws stayed with our kids, I discovered my mother-in-law had replaced our kitchen chairs with a set she bought at a neighbor’s garage sale. Who does that? .... I am appalled that someone would change my furniture without permission. BTW: I hate the chairs. What should I do when she comes over and sees that mine are back?--Anonymous

Here's some of what the Social Q guru Philip Galanes had to say, first about the chairs and then about the crossing of lines by "helpful" parents:

It is the greatest disappointment of my week that I can’t show our readers a picture of these chairs, for the sake of anonymity. (They are wantonly hideous!) Sadly, though, there is a bigger issue here: boundary-busting by your mother-in-law.

You don’t mention any history of inconsiderate behavior on her part....It also seems unlikely that she’d be respectful for years, then — wham! — new chairs appear without your blessing.

Acknowledge the germ of generosity here. Say to your mother-in-law: “Thanks for watching the kids and for your gift. I don’t care for the chairs, though. I like to choose my own furniture. Would you like them?”

Just a little reminder that we can be helpful on little things (if they don't like the left-overs, they can toss them out on the way home. No harm done.). But they are in charge of their homes and hearths.  Note to Self: It's their life.

When should our adult children be able to stand on their own financial feet?

By the time they're 22, our children should be financially independent. It's a milestone most of us think they should reach as young adults. At least, that's what a survey by the Pew Research Center finds.

The reality (now it's U.S. Census analysis doing the finding) is that only a quarter of today's 22-year-olds have met that milestone. That's a much smaller percentage than 40 years ago when many of us were young and in our 20s. Then, one-third of 22-year-olds had crossed over the point that is supposed to distinguish childhood and the comforts of the parental home from stand-on-your-own adulthood.

This slippage in independence raises the question: Are we over-coddling our kids, offering too much helping hand and not enough tough love? Pew finds that the public perception is that, yes, we're we're doing too much for them. Here's what those in the Pew survey had to say about today's parents of young adults:

When those who say parents are doing too much for their young adult children were asked in an open-ended format in what ways they are doing too much, 43% pointed to financial assistance. Some 37% said parents are trying to solve their children’s problems for them or are afraid of letting their children fail. About one-in-five (23%) said parents are doing too much for their adult children by letting them live with them. And 4% pointed to providing babysitting and child care for grandchildren as examples of how parents are doing too much for their adult children.

A lot of us are guilty as charged. Pew found that roughly six-in-ten parents with children 18 to 29 gave their children a lot or some help in the past year. While some of that assistance was a one-time shot, a good deal of it was for recurring expenses, like household, medical or housing assists or educational expenses.

In fact, educational expenses loom large in the breakdown of the reaons we give, though it reflects parental income. According to Pew:

High-income parents are more likely than those in lower income groups to say the financial help they gave was related to education. Two-thirds of parents in households earning $100,000 or more a year say the support they gave their adult children was tied to educational expenses, compared with 53% of parents with incomes between $75,000 and $99,999, and fewer than half of those earning less than $75,000.

To give those educational dollars some perspective, in the past forty years college tuition has grown four times as fast as inflation and eights times more rapidly than household income. The amount owed on student debt--whether it's the students or taken on by their parents--is estimated to be $1.5 trillion. That's more than what we Americans owe on our credit cards and auto loans combined. If our kids are one of those 45 million owing that debt, they're starting out their adult lives with a lot of I.O.U. on their shoulders. No wonder today's parents feel pressured to help out if they can.

(You can see more details on the Pew survey here , including the definitions the foundation used for financial independence and gender differences in the findings.)

Money Matters: Two tips about lending money to adult children

You've heard it--I've said it--over and over: It's a tricky and emotional  business lending money to adult children. We want to be helpful--if we can afford it, and sometimes even if we can't. But we worry about why they are unable to manage on their own. That said, financial advisers speak as one  in saying that if you do lend money to your grown children, do it like a banker would: review their financials; set the repayment contract in writing.

Ah well. Seems like such a cold thing to do when it's your loved one. Michele Singletary, who writes a syndicated personal finance column, also hands out that "get it in writing" advice, but her recent column on the subject of loans to adult children made two points about that lending process that may clarify your perspective:

On the importance of reviewing their finances:

Upon review of bank statements, you may find evidence that your adult child is living above his means, such as eating out a lot. Don’t lend money to people who earn enough to cover their expenses, but can’t because of mismanagement. That’s not helping. That’s enabling bad behavior. Why should they enjoy the fruits of your frugality while they are living it up?

On the need to find out why they're tapping the bank of mom and dad for loans:

This is not about being hypercritical of their lifestyle. Just because there’s a request doesn’t mean there’s a need. Perhaps your adult child is underemployed. Maybe your daughter and her husband bought too much house and need to downsize. If your adult child is constantly asking for loans, there’s probably an underlying situation that needs to be addressed. Your handing over money all the time prevents this analysis.

Extreme Helicopter Parenting: Are we still part of their doctor-patient dynamic?

There's helicopter parenting an adult child and there's Extreme Helicoptering of our post-adolescence offspring. Neither is healthy but the latter can be especially harmful. Extreme helicopter parents have been sited accompanying their adult children to job interviews and barging into the interview itself. (It does not leave an employer with a positive impression of the would-be employee.) Or calling their adult child's boss and explaining difficulties the child is having with a co-worker or insisting on a raise. (It is counterproductive.) We have been known to get carried away in the pursuit of helping our adult children navigate the world.

Now there's this: Accompanying a grown child for a medical check up and staying in the examination room. One physician, who was disturbed when it happened in his office, wrote an article about it. The child was a burly, 20-year old male construction worker suffering from fatigue; the concerned mother answered more of the doctors questions than the son did. The doctor eventually insisted the mom leave the room. Only then was he able to have a meaningful discussion with his patient.

Here are three key points the doctor, Tim Lahey who practices in Vermont, made in a Washington Post story about parental over-oversight of health issues:

--Let them speak up for themselves: "I worried the mother was unintentionally keeping the patient from learning how to advocate for himself. This wasn’t just a clinical intuition. A 2017 study showed that greater parental involvement in young-adult health care predicts lower young-adult independence.

--Give them room to talk about personal stuff: "A physician seeing a young adult [without a parent in the room]  is able to screen for behaviors that may require more discussion, such as drinking and drug use, self-harm, dangerous relationships, and mental health issues."

--Stand behind them: "Parents play a critical role in young-adult health. The trick is to provide support in ways that reinforce autonomy. Parents can encourage a young adult to bring up an issue before a doctor’s visit and even brainstorm with them on how to bring it up."

 

 

Power Shifts: Our adult children call the plays

We had plans to have dinner with friends last Friday night. They canceled. Their son asked them to babysit his 9-year-old twins.

Paterfamilias watches the football game every Sunday with his friend Lance. This Saturday Lance called to say he couldn't make it: He and his wife were invited to have lunch with their daughter and her family. Understood. Family takes precedence. On Sunday morning the friend called again. The daughter changed the invite to an early dinner. Game On!

This weekend, we were supposed to see friends whose work schedules even in semi-retirement are so complicated it took us weeks to figure out a date when we were all available. We canceled the get-together yesterday. Our son, who lives in a city far from us, suggested this weekend was the best one for us to come visit him and his family. When we emailed our friends to tell them we had to reschedule, they were nonplussed. "We understand completely," they wrote. "[Our son] wields the same power over our schedule."

So the pendulum swings. When our children were young they marched to the needs of our appointments, meetings and business trips. Now we adjust to theirs. In part it's because their lives are more complicated than ours--they are the ones juggling high-pressure careers, children's activities and social obligations. We're retired or our careers are on a less active plane; our social obligations less obligatory. We are able to be more flexible and adjust to a request for a last-minute babysitting assist. What's more important than helping out our kids?

But it's more than that. They have always been our priority but right now, as they raise families and come into the prime of their careers, we aren't their priority. So we fit ourselves into that new dynamic.

There's another reality. Our grown children are the access to our grandchildren.  Case closed.

 

Overlooked: Do our children talk over us at family get-togethers? It may be our fault.

As soon as I read the letter in Social Qs from a man who felt he was being "talked over and generally excluded" from dinner conversations with adult children, I started counting. How many friends did I know who had complained about the same thing. They had had successful careers, experienced the joys of parenting and proudly headed the table at family functions. From Thanksgiving dinners to Christmas feasts, Passover Seders to Easter breakfasts, they had steered the conversation and made sure the value of their point of view was heard.

And now? Well, now the adult children are in charge and it is hard to have our voices heard--no less to take command. "They're no longer interested in my opinion," one friend put it. This was after a Christmas dinner hosted by his son (from his first marriage) and attended by his wife and wife's kids (ditto), the adult children's spouses and the grandkids. It didn't seem to count that he had long provided wise business counsel to three of the four grown children, all of whom had gone on to succeed in business.

His brief lament mirrored the longer tale told to Philip Galanes' Social Q's:

I am fortunate to be in a great long-term marriage that produced a wonderful daughter and an amazing college-age granddaughter. But lately, they have told me, in plain English, that my opinions and standards (from my education at a parochial school and military academy) don’t count for much. The last time we had dinner, they talked over me and generally excluded me from the conversation. My opinions were dismissed, and my values were derided. These are the three most important women in the world to me. How do I get them to stop using me as a piñata?

Philip Galanes suggests the writer might be dominating conversation and not falling in line with the more democratic approach of the current times. Here's Galanes point:

We all have a right to our opinions, of course. But one of the interesting shifts in the past few years has been a greater public awareness of who feels entitled to speak up and expect their views to be heard — and who doesn’t. You may not suffer from blind privilege, but it’s a question worth considering.

If you have been holding the Talking Stick for too long, perhaps the women have become impatient for their turns. So, share it! And especially because they are so dear to you, make an effort to understand how their views differ from yours. In my experience, the respect in that gesture is often reciprocated.

 

 

 

Empty Nests: When you don't really want them to move back home

This is the emptying nest season. A lot of our kids have left for college and parents are wistful and lump-in-throat sad to see their empty place at the kitchen table. We wish they were still youngsters living under our roof. Or so we think. But four years hence, we may not be so thrilled if the young adults return and set up headquarters in their former bedrooms (now our guest rooms or dens).

We were devoted parents while they lived with us but we may not be so happy to see them come back. That's the gist of a column by Charles Blow, an oped columnist for the NYTimes who usually writes about such weighty matters as racism and immigration. But Blow, a single dad since his son was six years old and his twins were three, has taken time to fill his column space with an essay on parenting. He acknowledges that when the twins went off to college a few years ago he felt "free, that I was entering a new life of my own, and I felt absolutely no guilt about that."

When the twins graduated from college, they moved back into his house and settled in as they searched for jobs and looked for their first apartments. Blow admits to, well, being less than happy about their return. 

I will say the thing that we as parents are not supposed to say: What happened to my empty nest? The very definition of home has changed. Mine will always be their family home, their spiritual home, but it cannot be their primary home. This is now my primary home, alone.

I know that this arrangement is temporary, and I want to help my children out in every way possible, but it would be dishonest to say that their reappearance in “their rooms,” which I now call guest rooms, has not been jarring.

Then he addresses the conflict many of us feel when our kids refill the nest and our culpability in making it oh-so-comfortable for them.

No matter how much I try to resist the urge, I’m reverting to my last-phase parenting mode — worrying about whether they’re eating enough and eating healthfully, washing their clothes and taking them to their rooms.

These are young adults and not children. I have to remember that. I also have to remember that this phase is temporary. But, I also have to prevent them from dragging their feet leaving home and starting their own lives.

When your children return to your empty nest, it is a good thing to firmly nudge them out. That, too, is what love looks like.

Young Adults: What if they call home from college and they're miserable.

Photo: Palo Coleman

They're off to college. The empty nest looms or maybe just the diminution of the number of children at home. Paterfamilias and I have been there, lived through that. Now it's one of our grown-up children whose oldest child has bounded off happily for college.

So maybe this is as good a time as ever to talk about a blog post Dr. Carl Pickhardt wrote for Psychology Today. It's not about children leaving the nest or parents having empty-nest longings. It's about a surprise call parents may get from their child while he or she is presumably taking notes in classes, trying out for various activities and figuring out how to fit in. Even if our kids go off to college happily, we parents may find all is not what it should be with the new experience. Pickhardt's post is about what to do if the child you've dropped off at college calls home weeks later and is in crisis. 

Let me let Pickhardt set the scene:

Most young people making this transition into more independent living have at least a few times at the outset when they feel truly unprepared and overwhelmed.... Consider some hard adjustments of this challenging time.

Some of the adjustments Pickhardt ticks off are missing home and family; feeling lonely; disappointment at  not coping well; concerns about living up to parental expectations; incompatibility with a roommate.

So how parents can parents handle the situation. Here's Pickhardt's five-step process should that "crisis call" come. 

1.   WELCOME the call. “We are so happy that you thought to call us; we love hearing from you, whatever you have to share.” Show that the loving family connection is unbroken. 

2.   EMPATHIZE with the upset: “Yes, if sounds like you are going through a really difficult time. Tell us more about it.” Provide emotional support.

3.   OPERATIONALIZE the problem. “Can you tell us specifically what is happening and not happening that has contributed to your feeling this way?” Bring the problem into practical and objective focus.

4.   STRATEGIZE about what to do. “What might be some constructive actions to take that would ease your current unhappiness, and would any outside help be useful at this time?” Explore problem solving possibilities.

5.   ENERGIZE with faith in finding ways for moving forward. Declare: “We believe you have what it takes to meet this challenge and will come out stronger on the other side. Please keep calling us, and we’ll keep checking in if you like, so we can be with you as you work this through. " Provide confidence and optimism. 

Depending on how fragile your child might seem, Pickhardt notes the possibility of seeking professional help from on-campus sources.  But not too fast.

When a college crisis call does come in, it may help to remember that quote from John F. Kennedy: “When written in Chinese, the word crisis is composed of two characters – one represents danger, and the other represents opportunity.” 

So, parents need to thread this needle: Take action if endangerment is communicated; but short of that, provide listening, empathy, and advice if asked, but do not intervene and interfere in this opportunity for the young person to grow.

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.