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

What if we don't like the way our children parent their children? Part 2

A few weeks ago, I posted an observation from Meghan Leahy on the limits we should impose on ourselves. That is, we should not offer our adult children advice on parenting their children--unless they've asked us for it. In that post, a grandmother was concerned about the chaos of her grandchildren's bedtime. In this post, it's mealtime issues and a 2-year-old's tantrums. Like the grandparent upset about bedtime routines, the mealtime-worried grandmother is dealing with an adult child whose marriage is falling apart.

So here's Megan Leahy again, this time in answer to a grandmother concerned about the way her son is handling his 2- and 5-year old children. The grandmother has an up-close view of the family dynamic because her son is getting a divorce and has moved into her and her husband's home where, a few days a week, he has custody of and takes care of his two small children. The grandmother complains about the son's lack of parental discipline at mealtimes--he allows the 2-year-old to have ice cream before dinner or an ice pop for breakfast. The grandmother cannot abide the way this small child throws tantrums "to get her way, and her dad always gives in." She has been holding her tongue but says it's getting increasingly hard to do so. Here's Meghan to the rescue:

"I can feel your grandparenting (and parenting) frustration loud and clear. Many of us have been in situations where we want to yell, “Just say no to the darn kid!” But we don’t, because we know it could embarrass and undermine the parent, make a bad situation worse, divide loyalties or start a heated disagreement in front of the children. Holding this frustration in is you staying mature. And trust me: Many parents can (and do) lament how their own parents nagged, lectured and shamed their parenting choices. It really is a relationship killer, so good on you for holding your tongue."

Is there a middle ground between telling her son what to do and keeping her lip zipped? Leahy thinks there's room to have her say:

"Because he doesn’t have the kids half the time, maybe you could take him out to dinner and just listen to him. Let him vent about the divorce or single parenting or whatever is on his mind. I could be wrong, but I bet he knows that the ice pops, wasted food and whining aren’t great, but he could be too overwhelmed to see it clearly or know what to do about it. By offering a compassionate, nonjudgmental ear, you free your son to put down his burdens for a bit, and when people do that, they are more likely to find the courage to do something different."

Leahy acknowledges that these parenting "mistakes" are unfolding under the grandmother's roof, and doesn't that give her a say in how to deal with her grandchild's tantrums? Leahy suggests the grandmother make herself scarce when meltdowns are going on.

"Go for a walk with a friend, go to another floor or put on some headphones. Do anything to make yourself feel less provoked.

Some people may read this and feel affronted: “It is their house, and the grandparent needs to hide?” Well, yes and no. I am suggesting that judging, critiquing and losing your cool in the moment are not going to work out well for any relationship in the house. Instead, stay out of it (in the moment), and find another way to support your son. You can keep your boundaries, just don’t do it during the tantrum or while eating."

painting: Renoir

Leaving a Legacy: Passing on the passwords and other digital conundrums

Pity our poor adult children. When they meet the love of their life and decide to commit to each other, they face an ordeal we didn't: Whether to and how to merge digital accounts. If newlyweds decide to save money by using one Spotify account--rather than each having his/her own--will Spotify's algorithms let one person's Latin beats seep into the other's country music vibe?

Well, that's their problem to solve. But we play a role in some of their other digital account mergers. A son may be using our Netflix account while his bride may be using her parents' password. Do we kick him off? Should they elect to leave their home bases and start a new account that's their own?

Hitting even closer to home: Many of us still carry our grown children on our cellphone family plan. Do we kick them off once they marry or are in a committed relationship? Shouldn't they start a cellphone plan of their own? After all, one day they may be putting their own children on a cellphone family plan.

There is one digital issue that affects us more directly: How do we keep passwords to our financial accounts to ourselves and yet make sure, as a matter of estate planning, that our heirs have access to them?

One expert Erin Lowry, put it this way in a Washington Post story, 

"It can be painful to talk about estate planning, ...but if one partner dies, the other will need access to important digital accounts. Adopt some sort of password manager, choose beneficiaries and set up “transfer on death” designations for your primary accounts. Even Facebook has legacy contacts who can access accounts if the holder dies."

Now that I've put that excellent advice into a blog post, how long is it going to take me to act on it? Don't ask!

photo: Maia Lemov

 

Observation: Meghan Leahy on parenting and grandparenting 101.

Are we ever 100 percent pleased with the way our kids are bringing up their kids? There's always something we think they're getting wrong. That's what's behind Meghan Leahy's  observation on our role as parents of adult children and as grandparents within their family dynamic. (Her comments are in answer to a  grandmother who is spending the summer with her daughter's family and is worried about her grandchildren's chaotic bedtime routine.) 

"Your daughter and grandchildren are very fortunate to have you for the summer. The most hopeful statement in this letter is, “My plan in being here was to help my daughter and accept things as they are, and to establish a trusting relationship with the children.” That is a worthy goal, and if you can do that in your time there, that’s enough. In fact, accepting things as they are is one of the most powerful ideas a person can aspire to: to not be feckless, but to understand how little we have control over. Keeping a stance of humility is the best way to be of true assistance. You won’t force your notions, opinions or judgments upon your daughter and grandchildren, and instead will be of true service.

painting:Renoir

 

 

Money Matters: Can we control the gifts rich relatives give our kids?

We're a protective species. When it comes to our kids, we want fair play in all things, even when it's only a matter of gifts from family members. Or maybe I should say, especially when it's gifts from family members and even more especially when those relatives happen to be rich. We may not want them to give our kids hefty high school or college graduation checks for fear of our kids feeling "entitled." Or we may appreciate their being generous but we want them to be even-handed--making as big a fuss over one child as the next. (I posted on this issue here.)

Beyond fairness, we may have high expectations that a wealthy uncle or sister will shower our child with a lavish wedding gift when that child marries, a gift that might help set them up in life.

That was the issue raised in Social Qs. The complaint a mother of the bride sent to Philip Galanes was straightforward:

My daughter got married last month...My sister and her husband came with their two children. They are extremely wealthy — like, flying-on-private-jets-to-expensive-vacation-homes wealthy! (We are not.) I assumed they would give my daughter a generous cash gift to be used as an eventual down payment on a home. Instead, they gave her five place settings from her gift registry that cost $500. I am hurt and angry about their lack of generosity. My mother thinks I should talk to my sister about this so it doesn’t affect our relationship. Your thoughts?

It will come as no surprise to anyone who follows Social Qs that Galanes sees the situation through a different prism. He reminds the mother of the bride that she is not entitled to "commandeer other people's money."

Galanes then adds a sound observation and solid piece of advice:

"Where I come from, $500 is not a chintzy wedding gift. And you didn’t say anything about your daughter’s relationship with her aunt and uncle. So I disagree with your mother for now: Don’t talk to your sister about her gift until you have made peace with the fact that it was hers to give."

photo credit: Maia Lemov

Covid Seniors: Are our adult kids still trying to be our parents?

Some of us whose adult children are now of sandwich-generation age--meaning their teen- and 20-something kids are becoming independent while their parents are evolving toward ancient--have a "take control" attitude toward their parents. It may be a hangover from the Covad pandemic. Back in those bad old days, a good number of adult kids, seeing their parents as vulnerable, set down rules for us--as though they had become our parents. What I saw among my friends were dictates like these: No shopping even if masked; no outdoor visits with friends (even if masked); no indoor visits with grandkids (only waves from the window).

Now that the pandemic has eased--or at least, the way we live with it has evolved--some of us are finding our kids haven't taken the foot off the controls. Again, I see it among my friends, especially those with health problems. But now I have news of it from afar. Well, as afar as Philip Galanes and his Social Q column

In the Galanes instance, a reader/letterwriter is a middle-aged man who is alarmed because his partner wants to move his 80-year-old parents who live in a distant city into his and his partner's home. The partner wants to remodel the home to accommodate his parents but the reader is looking for another solution--say, offering to contribute to a house or apartment for the parents that's in a nearby neighborhood but not in the reader's home.

Galanes's answer looks at the issue from the parents' point of view. He defends our autonomy and ends with a point we might want to make if we feel our kids are getting too, well, controlling. Here's some of Galanes'reply:

....I’ve been the self-appointed savior of an older parent, too! I know your partner is acting out of love (and fear). But his parents are old — not pieces of furniture to be carted from state to state. Your partner should begin this discussion by asking his parents what they would like if they were to need more help.

They may be part of a vibrant community of friends and neighbors who enrich their daily lives. They may prefer to age in place (with appropriate help) or at an assisted-living facility nearby....And all these options avoid the drastic steps of remodeling homes or buying new ones in a state where their son may be the only person they know.

I don’t minimize the practical or emotional complexities of aging. Your partner’s parents are lucky to have a loving son in their corner. And for all we know, they may want to move — at which point, we can take up your concern. But respecting their autonomy has to be the core of this discussion. They’ve seen a thing or two in their 80-odd years! Let them lead the way for as long as they can.

painting: R Bearden

Compassion for Today's Adult Kids, Part 2: Parenting and the fearful world of "canceling"

We more senior parents are somewhat removed from the modern-day stresses our adult children and grandchildren are experiencing. (see my post last week) That list did not include one of the most pernicious stresses: A cancelation and self-censorship culture, particularly on college campuses.  You may know all about it but I had only the vaguest of notions until a recent visit to an adult son and his family brought the threat of "canceling" or public shaming into focus.

During my visit we were talking, casually at first, about social media and its effects, how social media platforms are touted as free speech forums but do some of the postings go too far in that direction? The conversation veered into social media and its role in self-censorship and, in effect, a loss of free speech. Now we were talking about whether the threat of being the object of a social media storm keeps students from expressing non-mainstream opinions.

I asked a grandson, who's a rising senior in college, whether he felt free to express his opinion in classrooms or socially on campus. He answered without hesitation: He did not.  It was too dangerous. It could cost him friendships and his social standing.

Was he over-reacting? Was his experience an anomaly? I turned to Google and it didn't take much of a search to see that he was smack dab in the mainstream.

Two years ago, the Foundation for Individual Rights in Education, or FIRE,  reported the results of a survey of nearly 20,000 undergraduate students from 55 colleges and universities.

60 percent of students have at one point felt they couldn’t express an opinion on campus because they feared how other students, professors or college administrators would respond.

A year later a 2021 survey from College Pulse and FIRE of some 37,000 students at 159 colleges reported an acceleration of a negative atmosphere on campuses:

80 percent of students said they self-censor at least some of the time.

48 percent of undergraduate students described themselves as “somewhat uncomfortable” or “very uncomfortable” with expressing their views on a controversial topic in the classroom.

66 percent said it is acceptable to shout down a speaker to prevent them from speaking on campus, and almost 25 percent said it is acceptable to use violence to stop a campus speech.

In a 2022 essay for the NYTimes, a University of Virginia senior wrote that self-censorship at her college was common. Among the points she made about the situation in the classroom were these:

--Backlash for unpopular opinions is so commonplace that many students have stopped voicing them, sometimes fearing lower grades if they don’t censor themselves. 

--Criticism can quickly transform into public shaming, thereby stifling learning.

--She asks: "Is it brave to risk your social standing by saying something unpopular? Yes. Is it reasonable to ask college students ...to solve this problem independently? No."

--Her conclusion: "My college experience has been defined by strict ideological conformity. Students of all political persuasions hold back — in class discussions, in friendly conversations, on social media — from saying what we really think.

As parents, what advice do we have for our college students or our adult children who are the parents of these students? Do we repeat the homilies we believed in our day: Speak up. Be rigorous in debate. Explore the ideas of others. How else can we reach a ground of common understanding? For those of us who've ventured out of our pandemic-created cocoons, we're learning that such words may be true but they no longer apply.

It feels odd to hark back to a U.S.President who failed to rise to meet the moment, but in a 1928 presidential campaign speech, Herbert Hoover talked about  “ 'the American system of rugged individualism' — the notion that America was a place of free markets, individual thought and a dogged skepticism of state-imposed conformity."

Is it safe to say, Good Old Herbert Hoover?

Work of art: Rodin's The Thinker

Compassion for our adult kids who are parenting in today's world

When I first became a parent, my mother would chime in with kid-raising tips. Some of it was helpful; some annoying but for the most part there was little in her experience of raising my brother and myself to clue her in on how to deal with such modern-day (modern for my generation) issues as Saturday morning cartoons on TV and the ads that accompanied them.

I am my mother now. My Saturday morning TV issue pales compared to what my adult children have been dealing with in raising their children: Limiting screen time and keeping them safe from the Internet's pernicious access to pornographic, violent or misinformed material. The pandemic came along and made everything worse. And now comes an unpredictable economy at a time where school shootings aren't rare and classrooms are political battlegrounds. Even if my children wanted my advice on these issues (they haven't asked), I would have no previous experience from which to draw.

"There's almost not a word to express the stress parents are under right now. 'Overwhelmed' doesn't cut it. It's beyond anything we've ever experienced." This is what the founder of the Parent Coaching Institute told a reporter at an Axios newsletter.

The newsletter takes note of the specifics of what may be overwhelming the parents of our grandchildren (Click on the embedded links for more details):

The rising cost of gas, groceries and other daily expenses. These top the list of stressors, according to a March poll

Children have questions about the world's wars.

Sadness about the relationships and opportunities the pandemic is robbing from them.

Fear and anger about the planet warming.

COVID

Clashes over teaching about racism and U.S. history

A renewed debate over gun control

Having issues that affect kids and parents at the center of American politics.

If there is a silver lining, Axios tells us, it's that "hard times can be opportunities to strengthen relationships." That's backed up by census data that reports that parents say they've become closer to their children during COVID lockdowns and that they are eating more meals together; parents of younger children say they are reading to their kids more often.

All of which makes me feel that the pillars of our old-fashioned age of parenting--bedtime stories as a nightly ritual; dinnertime together as a daily tradition--are relevant. Plus, we still have one piece of timeless advice worth offering our stressed children: Take care of yourself. Your children need you rested and ready--or at least somewhere close to that.

Painting: Ivan Canu, Ferryman

The Grandchild IOU: Can we sue if our kids don't reproduce?

Here's the premise: After we've helped support our adult children through college and early work years, they (and their spouse)  owe us grandkids. If they don't deliver, they should pay us back. Moreover, we can sue them if they don't fulfill their part of the next-generation equation. 

Hah! A laughable notion, right? But in India, a mom and dad are suing their son and daughter-in-law for failing to come up with a grandchild after six years of marriage--and years of financial support that included paying for a lavish Bollywood-style wedding.

The suit may sound out of whack to our Western ears but, as reported in the New York Times, in India the suit  made headlines in national newspapers and "prompted a debate about how much control parents should have over their children’s life choices." The demand is, according to the couple's lawyer, "an Indian parent thing." (The parents are suing for $650,00 in damages.)

Cultural differences aside, it's hard to accept that a sense of let-down can be righted by a financial transaction. That said, the grievance is all too relatable. It's culturally acceptable here to encourage our recently married children to "get on with having a family," even to make what we think are "cute" little remarks along the lines of "what are you waiting for?" If they decide to go forth childless, we may choose to make our displeasure and disappointment known at our peril.  

Here's a little more from the Times story on what pushed the parents over the edge.

After spending their savings to have their son trained as a pilot in the United States, Sanjeev Ranjan Prasad and Sadhana Prasad financed his lavish wedding back in India, along with a luxury car and an overseas honeymoon.

They assumed their investments would eventually pay off, in the form of a grandchild. But as time ticked by, they say, the not-so-newlyweds showed little interest in producing one.

After waiting anxiously for six years, they decided to sue.

While the suit is given little chance of succeeding, that doesn't mean it hasn't hit a sympathetic chord with many parents of adult children.

Raavi Birbal, a lawyer in India, said that the suit would probably not go far because its arguments violate rights enshrined in India’s Constitution, including the right to liberty.

“This is actually a very rare case,” Ms. Birbal said. “That is why it is so much in the limelight. But, ultimately, it is the couple’s choice to have a child, not that of their parents.”

Hari Bhushan Yadav, 52, a shopkeeper in Haridwar, said that residents had been discussing the case with great interest over tea outside his shop, and that older people tended to sympathize with the plaintiffs.

painting: Claude Monet, The Cradle

 

 

We Are Style Setters: TikTok says our comfy ways meet the moment for adult kids and their peers.

Stunning news on the older-parent front: The Washington Post tells us that our grown kids, their kids and the generations in between are embracing the comforts of the grannie style--a trend the Post describes as "billowy linen pants, slipcovered sofas and chilled sauvignon blanc." Dubbed coastal-grandmother, the style (see TikTok's Lex Nicoleta), "taps into a collective craving for simplicity at a time when everything feels painful and awkward. It's the analog antidote to our Zoomed-out lives."

The avatars of the style?  Oprah in a cozy beige sweater. Diane Keaton in a Nancy Meyers movie. Ina Garten making cosmos in the Hamptons. Clothing guru? Eileen Fisher.

So yay for us for being the zeitgeist.  And for being ageless. That's also what the Post writers tell us:

You don’t have to live near a beach, or even have adult offspring, to get the lifestyle. “Coastal grandmother” isn’t an age or even a gender. It’s a state of mind.

Those of us aging out of pencil skirts, low-cut jeans and too-close-to-the-floor Italian sofas can take comfort in our blowzy look that offers the warmth of acceptance of all body shapes and physical challenges. We barely have to read the article to understand the essence of the style.  It is us. Why everyone else wants to look like us--that's less explicable.

painting: Degas

 

 

Our Children's Love Lives: What to do when we object to their choice for a mate.

We're not always happy with our child's choice of their future spouse or significant other. Our reservations about them may not be centered on the old standby, "No one is good enough."  We may have valid concerns about the future mate's values, behavior or distressing cultural differences. Unless there are signs of physical or emotional abuse, we're usually stuck with swallowing hard and trusting our child knows what they're doing.

Sometimes other family members chime in--not necessarily to support our point of view but to let us know we should stand back and not be too judgmental. And that makes us feel, well, as a reader wrote to Ask Amy, blackmailed.

The reader/mother's objections: Her daughter's fiance is a heavy pot user (so is the daughter), a felon for selling narcotics, an unemployed college dropout who has psychiatric and physical health problems. In the mother's telling, the daughter is beautiful and has lived a privileged, upper-middle-class life. The parents are paying their daughter's living expenses and tuition as she attends graduate school. The other children--the daughter's siblings--have told the mom to support their sister's choice of a partner; moreover, if she doesn't she (the mom) could lose contact with all of them. The dad is retiring soon and feels they should support the relationship but let the daughter know she's on her own financially.

 "If I cut off my daughter financially, she’ll hate me," the mom writes. "If I don't support her relationship with her boyfriend, they'll all hate me."

Amy's advice finds a middle way by leaning on a distinction between “support” and “accept.” That is, the mom should accept her daughter's choice in a partner "because she is an adult and she has the right to make terrible choices."

What does accept mean? Amy expands on that notion:

Invite them over for dinner, include them in family events, and yes — you may be forced to face and tolerate your disappointment in your pot-using daughter and her choice in partner, but until she is forced to face her own choices and disappointments, she will never be inspired to perhaps choose differently.

The support part is also a compromise. If the parents don't want to continue to pay rent and other living expenses for their daughter and her fiance, they could limit financial support to the cost of the daughter's education. Here's Amy with an additional twist:

If she continues with her graduate program and you can afford it, you might choose to pay only her school bills (directly to the school).

We love our children. We want the best for them and count ourselves fortunate when we can afford to help them achieve their goals. But sometimes, we have to pull back. The trick is to do so without permanently damaging our relationship and by making sure our children always feel the love of family. We also need to cover ourselves in case we failed to see the positive side of their choice.

painting: Harlequin by Picasso

Leaving a Legacy: What about those digital assets?

We don't like to think about what life will be like when we're no longer here and whether our grown children will act like adults when divvying up our worldly goods. We may assume we've taken care of that by having an estate plan that sets down rules and guidelines for sharing our legacy. But in this new modern age, there's a piece of that plan that we may have overlooked: our digital assets. That is,  our photos and videos; messages and emails; music and e-books; movies and games; and any cryptocurrencies we may have invested in.  Some have sentimental value; others, monetary. Some we're willing to have our children, family or friends rifle through; others, not so much.

Access to our digital assets is more complicated than leaving a list of user names and passwords.  There may be those annoying but necessary "two-step" verification and security measures, some of which may require an answer to an obscure question--name of first movie? favorite song?--that our kids (or the person we've appointed to handle our estate) may not be able to answer.

A lawyer I talked to noted that the legal framework surrounding fiduciary access to digital assets is still in the early stage of development.  There's a fine line between protecting our privacy (do we want our kids reading all our old emails?) and managing our assets.

As things stand now, we can include in our will special instructions for our digital assets. Here are some suggestions of areas to cover (Excuse the legal jabber and jargon; I tried to modify where possible):  

Give your personal representative, trustee or agent a power of attorney to access the content and manage the digital assets.  

Give the fiduciary instructions to preserve, transfer or destroy information.

Prepare an inventory of digital assets, including usernames and passwords, so the digital assets can be located.  

How you keep that password list up-to-date (how many times and for which sites have you had to click on "forgot password"?) and how you retrace the answers to the "security" questions--well, that's a challenge for another day. Have you or someone you know figured that out? I'd love to have your comments.

Artwork: Self Portrait by Sarah Cain

The 11th Commandment: Thou shalt not comment on thy children's appearance.

When my brother was recovering from his first round of chemo for intestinal cancer, he put on a lot of weight. He was 45 years old, six feet tall and he blimped up to almost 300 pounds.

My mother was unhappy about it. She was worried, of course, that weight gain was unhealthy but that's now how she chose to address the issue: She was distressed at his appearance--she had always been concerned about our weight gain during my brother's and my childhoods--and asked me to tell my brother that he should lose weight.  I, in wisdom gained from my own battle over pudginess as a little girl, refused to do it. My operating principle: No one who has gained a hefty amount of unwanted weight gets up in the morning, peers into a full-length mirror and says, "Dang, I look good!" (My brother may, in fact, have felt that weight gain was a sign the illness was in recession.)

I share that anecdote because it touches on an issue many of us face: What do we do when our grown kids "let themselves go" by gaining too much weight, dressing in a sloppy way, failing to groom their hair, letting a beard become unkempt or something along those lines.  It's hard to watch and the pandemic may have exasperated the issue. I have friends whose daughter and son-in-law have not cut their hair and he hasn't shaved since the 2020 quarantine set in. They live a three-hour plane ride away and when my friends fly there for a semi-annual visit, they admit it takes a lot of self-control to zip their lips and say nothing.

One reason to keep our commentary to ourselves (or to limit our whining about it to close friends) is what I realized about my brother: He was not unaware of how he looked at 50+ pounds but by calling attention to it we are not adding useful information.

Another reason: It won't do any good.  Our kids are no longer living under our roof or purview. We are not in control of their bodies, appearance, food intake or shaving habits.

But the biggest reason is this: It's bound to alienate our child. Plus, if there's an underlying cause behind the unappealing appearance, we would show a lack of empathy, support or understanding. Here's a case in point straight from the annals of Carolyn Hax:

A mother writes that her daughter has gained 40 pounds since she quit her "high-paying" job to stay home with her two elementary-age kids. The mother says she has "made some comments "about her daughter's appearance" and since then her daughter has cut way back on in-person visits and stayed offscreen when the mother zoom-chats with her grandkids.  Did she, the mother wants to know, "really screw up that bad?"

"Apparently so," Hax writes, noting that the daughter's weight gain might be a signal that she's struggling, and the mom's response is, "I'll say. You look like crap.” Beyond the chastisement, Hax adds these insights into what might be going on here.

So the first step in making amends with your daughter is a reckoning with yourself. Have you done this before — have you missed her inner struggles because you couldn't get past the surface? Have you hurt her when she needed help? Have you done it a lot, a little, just this once?

Apologizing to your daughter is still the second step, regardless — but since its quality will directly reflect the quality of your introspection, save it for when you're ready to assume the full scope of the responsibility for whatever you did wrong. Do so even if you believe she has overreacted, because .... your job right now isn't to be accurate, it's to be self-aware, humble, and sorry for real.

After giving the reader advice on how to apologize, Hax adds this kicker: Rethink your values on looks.

painting: David C. Driskell, Yoruba Circle

The Wisdom of our Children: When the balance of giving advice tips in their favor

A funny thing has happened on our way to becoming older parents: We may find that our grown kids have acquired wisdom and good sense. And now, as we age into our more senior adult years, they share their gravitas with us (though some of their over-protective counsel during Covid was a bit overbearing as I posted here.) Many times, though, they become our guides to making difficult decisions. 

I was reminded of this when I bumped into a friend I hadn't seen in years. Now a widow, she was telling me about her son--I had last seen him when he was a toddler--who was now a physician in charge of a major healing center at a hospital across the country.  When her husband became gravely ill and hospital-bound, my friend desperately wanted to bring him home to care for him. She was trying to figure out how to reconfigure their home to make it possible to care for him there.  When her son flew home for a visit, he assessed both his father's condition and the house and told his mother what she didn't want to hear: It couldn't be done. There was no way his father could come home and be cared for safely and comfortably.

Her son's words and advice--"Let's find a really good nursing home for dad"--helped her acknowledge the best course to take for her husband's well-being. He died within a few months, but she was able to oversee her husband's care at the nursing home and spend much of every day with him.

When we face difficult choices, we are fortunate when we can lean on our children for sound advice. At some point in our lives, the good-counsel balance shifts slightly and our children become our valued advisors. We are able to reap what we've sown.

painting: Picasso, Still Life

 

Memory Lane: Reliving the past with an adult son in tow

He learned to ride his tyke bike here and to zip down the slide at the playground. Our son spent his first five years in this townhouse in River Park in the Southwest quadrant of Washington D.C. When he was five, our family moved to a suburb on the other side of the city. None of us had been back to River Park since.

Southwest now has a newly developed waterfront area. In "our" day the waterfront was nothing but broken sidewalks, weeds and an old railing that kept the occasional visitor from toppling into the Potomac River. Today, hotels, restaurants, boat docks and a wide boardwalk lap the river. When my son and his family came to visit recently, we went to see what was going on in the old neighborhood and topped off our day with a walk over to River Park. 

The trees have grown taller and fuller in the 40-odd years since our family of four lived there but the minute we set foot into the heart of the complex everything was familiar. We pointed out the houses where we remembered old friends living--the Nellums over there, our best friends George and Marcy over here.  And then we came to the front of our house--a three-story, barrel-roofed marvel at the corner of a row of half a dozen attached houses.

So many memories piled in. Our son showed his daughters where he had zoomed up and down the concrete plaza in front of our house on his tyke bike. He and I remembered the sunken concrete plaza--now turned into a grassy lawn--where we would hang out with friends. We found the houses where his sister's best friends--Nona and Lorraine--had lived. I remembered the babysitting pool where we parents paid each other in chits for watching each other's kids while we went to a movie or out to dinner. He remembered how, after Hurricane Agnes stormed in, he and his dad had walked down to the river and he had been overwhelmed by the power of the high, surging waters. We also stood on the spot where his dad had been held up at gunpoint--not the pleasantest of memories.

A woman walked by with a dog on a leash. "Is this your house?" we asked, since we were loitering in front of it. It wasn't. She said she had moved into the River Park apartment house a few months ago. What she liked so much about the place were the car-free open spaces and how filled with children River Park was.

That's what we remembered. It was also heartening to see that our old home and the community it was part of had weathered well. My son seemed buoyed at the chance to show his daughters where he had lived as a little boy and tell them stories about those times.  I was wallowing in memory after memory as one after another anecdote or person popped up from some recess of my over-stimulated brain. I could almost see once again what a speed demon my son had been when, as a 3-year-old he discovered the wheeled glory of a tyke bike--nothing but a plank of wood on wheels with a handle bar to keep it going straight.

As we left River Park and walked back to the waterfront, my son used an app on his phone to rent a motorized scooter for one of his daughters, who then sped off on the new sidewalks of Southwest. A technological update on her dad and yet a page from the same book.

                                                                            River Park, 2022

photo: Maia Lemov

Leaving a Legacy: Is there a fair way to divide our assets?

The two most boring words in a parent's vocabulary: Estate Planning. Within that world, the most volatile words are Unequal Shares.  Whether we have a gargantuan billion-dollar estate to divvy up among our children or just a small savings account to apportion (or somewhere between those two extremes), we may have reasons to deviate from the mean.

The mean, of course, is to divide whatever we have equally among our children. That way we are likely to head off squabbles--and possible litigation--among our heirs. It's true that we're no longer around to witness any ugliness that may ensue but as financial advisors are fond of saying, "Most of us would like to be remembered for who we were, not for what we had." (Backing that up, a 2020 Merrill Lynch study found that two-thirds of us want our family to remember us as the people we were; only 5 percent ticked the box for wanting to be remembered for our accumulated wealth.)

Would a positive memory be besmirched by our kids fighting over what we've left them? Let's go to the research again. An Ameriprise survey found that, after we were no longer around to adjudicate, 70 percent of the fights between and among siblings involved how an inheritance was divided.

“With unequal inheritances, you run the risk of causing sibling animosity,” one estate planner said. “If you go this route you need to manage expectations so you don’t have one sibling blaming another.”

Why go the unequal route? A friend of mine with a disabled daughter has set up a special trust for her care and asked her sons to manage that trust. Most of my friend's assets will go into that trust. Her sons understand why and what their family responsibilities are.

There are families where one child is super successful financially and the other works in a worthy but low-paying field. In some families, one child has remained close to her parents while the other is estranged or one child manages to visit often but the other doesn't, or one has several children and the other doesn't.

As parents we may have all kinds of valid reasons for carving our estate into unequal shares. And a number of us are doing so. In fact, the percentage of parents who left unequal inheritances to their children more than doubled between 1995 and 2010, rising from 16 percent in 1995 to 35 percent in 2010. 

The key to avoiding sibling spats over unequal shares is pre-planning. As I've noted in my posts here  and here , while you're still in good health or of sound mind, it pays to sit down with your child (especially the one with the diminished share) and explain what you're doing and why. Facts alone may not be enough. Their emotional understanding of the unequal share may be helped by our reassurance that their share of our worldly goods is no reflection of how much we love them.  Estate plan aside, it never hurts to remind our children of our unmeasurable love for them. They're never too old for that.

art: Robert Rauschenberg

Visits with Adult Children: The importance of time limits

 

I have long espoused my Blitzkreig theory: When visiting grown children who don't live near you, Get In, Get Hugs, Get Out. I have perfected the two -day visit for weekends, holidays or stop-bys on the way to somewhere else.

I have been vindicated about my approach. Science is with me, and the time is right to share this science with my readers since many of us whose children live far from us are now able to spend time together--whether our children (and their families) come to us or we go to them.

If you spent a long weekend or a week with your kids at your house or theirs and everything was perfect every waking minute, my hat is off to you. For most of us, though, there are tiny timebombs that go off the longer the visit goes on. When my mother used to visit me for three weeks at a time, by the end of week one I had broken out in hives, week two my ulcer kicked up, and in week three my back regressed to a painful past. So the Blitzkrieg is personal for me: I may not be the judgmental guest my mother was, but I still don't want to inflict an over-long stay on my children.

Let me digress no further. Here's the science I'm talking about. It has to do with our grown kids' reaction to us--not the other way around. But it explains why there are hiccups and occasionally unpleasant outbreaks during family visits.

A New York Times article had this commentary from psychiatrist Pooja Lakshmin:

 Psychologists 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.”  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.

Research professor Kira Birditt, reported:

94 percent of respondents to her study on tensions between parents and adult children admitted there was some kind of strife in their relationships. Research also shows that the connection between mothers and adult daughters is especially fraught. Of all relationships, it is the closest and most irritating.

Speaking of the close-but-irritating relationship, author and linguistics professor Deborah Tannen notes the specific underlying tensions between mothers and daughters:

Mothers and daughters tend to expect more from each other than from anyone else. There is a constant struggle between mothers and daughters to balance closeness vs. distance and being the same vs. being different from each other.

Coming soon: A post on how we can, besides keeping them short, keep our visits sweet.

painting: Renoir, Madame et ses enfants

 

 

Vacationing with Grown Children and Grandkids: Five rules for the road and the rental

Summer vacations are on the horizon. If we spent vacation time away with our grown kids and their kids last year or in pre-Covid times, we may have had vacations that were lively and refreshing--or they may have been filled with cooking, cleaning and a lot of babysitting. We may have come home with nothing more than the semi-excitement of a change of scene and the busyness of constant company.

How to make sure this year we're on a three-generation holiday where we have as relaxing or invigorating a time as our kids and grandkids? Here are five rules to keep things rolling along smoothly.

Great expectations: Each of us has our own vision of what our vacation should look like. We may want to sit by the ocean and stare at the waves or play tennis every day or take a long walk every morning. Or just sleep late every morning. If we talk to each other in advance about what we really, really want out of our vacation, we can accommodate each other. That is, our kids won't ask us to babysit when it's our time to go off and read. And we won't disappear when we know it's our grown kids' time to play tennis with each other. Knowing each person's vacation goals also means you probably won't do everything together. And that's okay. It's even a bonus:  It can make dinner conversations livelier.

Sharing the chores: If you're renting a house--or if you're lucky enough to own a retreat of your own--you don't want to be stuck cooking all the meals, stocking the refrigerator or vacuuming the day's litter every morning. A lot of families assign a dinner per person or family so that responsibility for cooking and clean-up gets spread around. As to babysitting patrol, some of us find that delightful but if you have your limits--and I do--there's nothing wrong with laying down some markers. For instance, you can encourage your kids to enjoy a date night and offer to babysit for the evening--which is a subtle reminder that you're not on duty all the time.

Splitting the costs: Many of us pick up the tab for family vacations--our kids are just establishing their careers; we have more expendable income than they do. Or, as sociologist Madonna Harington Meyer put it in an interview, "there is very little money flowing uphill" on family trips.  But as our kids' families expand (larger families mean larger rental quarters) and we near or are in retirement, that one-way street may not work as well. Or even be necessary. We don't have to keep doing things as we've always done them. We won't get a cold shoulder if we ask them to share the rent on a beach house or split the grocery bill or if we let them take us out to dinner. A corollary to this rule is to get as big a house or campsite or tent as the family can afford: It will be worth it.

Parenting rules: Our grown kids set the rules for their kids. No argument there. While we may indulge our grandkids when they spend a few hours with us at home or on a special trip, the flaunting of the parental rules is not okay on vacations when we're crammed into a house together. A further complication: if two of our kids and their families are with us on vacation, we may have to juggle their different approaches to parenting. This one allows juice drinks; that one forbids them. This one allows swimming without water wings; that one doesn't--good luck remembering which is which. Best approach: ask before doing. If a grandkid wants to eat your portion of chocolate lava cake, don't just push your plate in front of them. Ask their mom or dad if a taste is okay.

Escape time: I loved our family vacations in Vermont with my kids and their young families. But the grandpops and I made ourselves scarce at around 4:30. That was usually melt-down time for the little kids, and the parents knew better than this grannie how to handle tired children who needed quiet time. Extra credit: When we came back on the scene, we were rested and refreshed. A guilt-free pleasure.

photo: Maia Lemov

 

 

Parenting Young Adults: The realities and the risks of today's "lifestyle stress"

When my oldest granddaughter started college this year, I asked her the usual generic questions: What courses was she taking, which professors seemed dynamic, how was her dorm. I also asked her how she liked going to an all-girls college in a busy city. She ticked off her pros and cons but I was stunned by one "pro" in particular: She felt safe at her school. It was "not the kind of campus that would attract a mass shooter."

Our children and grandchildren are growing up at a very different time from us. The stresses--from social media onslaughts and the pandemic to the fear of a Kalashnikov-toting classmate appearing in a school hallway--are far beyond anything we experienced or worried about at their ages.  Where our schools had fire drills, theirs have mass shooter drills.

 As Peter Catapano wrote of parenting his daughter, "As she grew, the gentle life lessons she’d absorbed from Elmo and Dora the Explorer faded and gave way to the constant drumbeat of a 24-hour news cycle, social media and a culture driven almost entirely by the internet." The violence of the times in which she was coming of age "had all become undeniably woven into the fabric of life."

It's no wonder young adults today are operating under what psychologist Carl Pickhardt calls "the risk of lifestyle stress." In one of his newsletters, Pickhardt writes about the excessive demands on youngsters who are starting out their years of "trial independence." He offers some parental guidelines on the causes, how to assess if your child is struggling from stress plus some tips on how to help them deal with it.

His practical advice for parents is to guide your child with self-awareness pointers like these:

--Treat occasional stress as expected.

--View ongoing signs of stress with attention.

--Make regular self-maintenance a priority every day.

--Don’t pursue tempting changes at the expense of maintenance.

--Set your goals, standards, and limits to avoid constant over-demand.

--Try not to make resorting to stress to accomplish daily tasks a regular habit.

As for Catapano, he writes that it had become impossible to look his daughter in the eye and

"tell her everything was going to be OK. It wasn’t, not really, and she knew it. Yet, somehow,  our family found ways to keep a sense of enjoyment and purpose in our daily lives, and an openness to possibility — even optimism — about the future. Regardless of the circumstances we face, it’s what humans do.

painting: Picasso: Dora Maar with Cat

 

 

 

 

 

Observation: Dealing with disputes between a stepfather and a son.

After an argument with his step-father, a 29-year old son slammed the door and left the house. He then began pulling away from his mother. Their communication, the mom says, "dwindled to a slow trickle of texts." One point her son made on one of those texts was that during the 20 years of being parented by his mother's new husband, the mother had never stood up for him with his stepfather. Now, the mom, who describes herself as a natural peacemaker, is "hurt and paralyzed with fear about how to handle this."

This is the plea for help as it appeared in Philip Galanes' Social Qs column: What to do if you're a mother caught between two important men in your life.

Galanes began by reframing the situation with the good news: The son loves his mother enough to lay out his feelings.

Then he looks at the world as the son, who was a young child when the stepfather moved into his life, might see it: The mother's constant peacemaking--that is, her searches for compromise--may have felt to the son like abandonment.

Galanes' advice to the mom is of a piece with much of his sound counsel: "Get out from between these two men."

How to do that? The mom should repair her relationship with her son by apologizing for making him feel unprotected. Then, since she cannot control the behavior of others (her husband or her son), she should seek counseling for the family of three to work on family dynamics.

painting: Diego Rivera

Observation: What to do when our kids don't remember each other's milestone moments

 

When I was young and had just gotten married, my brother did not give me a wedding gift. Not that it bothered me. I'm not sure I even noticed. We weren't particularly close. What did bother me is that months later my mother brought me a gift--a small hand-painted ceramic butterfly--that she said my brother bought for me as a wedding gift. He had not, and her attempt to right what she saw as a wrong hurt more than the supposed "wrong." I still have that stupid butterfly and it is still a sad symbol of dysfunction between me, my brother and my mother.

I am reminded of my butterfly moment by a question raised by a Social Q's reader. The overall issue is whether we are the gatekeepers for the interpersonal relationships between and among our children. If our daughter forgets her brother's birthday--or those of his children--is it our job to be the tick on her to-do calendar? What if one sibling remembers the other but not vice versa. What's our role in keeping our adult children up to snuff on observing important occasions in each other's lives?

Social Q's Philip Galanes has an answer and it boils down to four words: Stay out of it. But let me give you the full situation and the nuanced wisdom Galanes imparts to the mother who wrote to him:

The situation: Galanes' reader (the mom) has three sons. The wives of the two older sons remember to send the siblings, their spouses and children gifts or cards to commemorate milestone events such as birthdays. The youngest son, who was unmarried, was "spotty about acknowledging" these occasions. He married recently and his mom hoped his wife would take up the slack, but she hasn't. The mom wants to know how much of a nudge she should give the youngest son's wife.

The wisdom answer:

"Before we deal with your problem, let’s deal with mine: All we’ve heard about the men in your family is that two of them married meticulous gift givers, and the youngest (who was spotty at it) hitched his wagon to an underperformer. Yet somehow these men — the actual blood relations — aren’t expected to pitch in at all.

Now, there’s no problem here if each of the couples has agreed to this division of labor. But it seems sexist to simply expect the new woman to solve the problem of family gifts. ...

As for what you can do: Extricate yourself! I know you want family harmony, but you can’t force adults to send gifts. If your sons or their wives tell you they’re upset about this, suggest they speak directly to your youngest son. This may be more motivating for him than hearing from you again. He and his wife may not be “gift people,” but we all have calendars. (Or they may not care.) Stay out of it."painting Van Gogh

Post Pandemic Equation: A new calculus for moving closer to the kids

Pre-pandemic, my yoga class ended the "semester" with a dinner out together--beer, pizza, mellow discussions among mostly women who knew little about each other than their down dog limitations.  The subject turned to adult kids and how tied we are to them. More specifically, the question was raised about whether, if your children live in a city far from you, would you move to be near them when they start having children. Do you pull up your roots, leave your job  and move to be near your grandkids and to help your grown child with them? My dinner companions--all of a certain older age--told stories of friends who had done that and found themselves babysitting 3 out of 5 weekdays. Some felt it was a gift to be such an integral part of their child's family; others shuddered.

This was not a road I considered when my grandkids were born in cities far from me. I was working in an office at a job I loved; so was the grandpa half of the equation. We were going to stay put and live our lives independently of our children. Three out of four of my fellow yogis felt the same way: No way, they said.  Taking the job piece out of it, my fellow yogis felt they still had active lives--networks of friends;  activities they pursued; dentists, doctors and hairdressers they depended on. They weren't ready to be full-time nanas and poppies. Moreover, the fear of being socially dependent on their children was enough to keep them where they were. 

Comes  Covid and the calculus may be adjusting. The ripple effects of the pandemic may mean that some of us don't have to quit our jobs to make a move and that it might be energizing to try a different way of living. Here's an example of what I mean.

Within the past five years. friends--he's a financial adviser and she's a speech therapist--have been blessed with four grandchildren. Two are by a daughter who lives north of New York City; two by a son who lives in Ohio. The parents live in a Virginia suburb near Washington D.C. They have decided to sell their house and move to New Jersey. They'll have an hour's commute to visit the New York kids and access to an easier drive or direct flights to Columbus. Since the pandemic, their jobs have moved online so they are no longer tethered geographically. Moreover, they won't live close enough to either set of grandkids to be regular babysitters but they'll be near enough to be more active in their lives and be helping hands in case of an emergency. They'll be within range of visiting friends from the old neighborhood and near enough to Manhatten to take in its cultural delights. 

Variations on arrangements like this could become the new norm for those of us who want to live closer to our kids and grandkids and yet maintain our independence--and maybe try a new lifestyle while we're still energetic enough to do it.

photo: Maia Lemov

 

Observation: Emma Thompson on the ties that bind grandmas, grownkids and the moms in between

During the pandemic, actor and screenwriter Emma Thompson hosted both her 22-year-old daughter and her 89-year-old mother. In The Guardian she wrote about the links between generations, on what we mean to and do for each other and of what she found to be "the miraculous luxury of three generations together."

Here are some of her comments:

My daughter has tattoos. I like them, which surprises me. I understand the urge to mark life’s more seismic events upon your body. ...

My mother’s body bears witness in more traditional ways – watching her navigate its frailty and bentness is a daily learning, a meditation. ...

Living between these bodies is an odd mixture of joy and grief. My daughter thrums. Her life force changes the atmosphere in the room as soon as she enters. We all receive the electrical charge and, once again, we dance....

Or my daughter comes in upset, chaotic, spinning out and sits by my mother and receives a calming nod – no questions, I note – and the chaos subsides.....

But the meeting of these life forces now feels more essential than ever. We are constantly exchanging ever-altering resonances, and balance occurs. Not perfectly – nothing’s perfect – but, consistently, we change and reset one another’s state. So instead of grieving my mother’s ageing, instead of envying my daughter’s youth, I find I am buoyed up and calmed down by turn.

 

Grown Kids and Our GrandKids: What we get wrong even if we're technically right

Some new parents (our sons and daughters and/or their spouses) don't like it when we call their child and our newest grandchild, "My Baby." To judge by the complaints I've read in advice columns, they don't just dislike it--they deeply resent it. The child is, of course, their baby, not ours. The resentment may be a reflection of their relationship with us (worst case) or of something in their past or of nothing at all (best case).  There's nothing wrong, of course, with using the two words. They may not mind at all. After all, most new parents love our enthusiasm for their children. We just need to check with the parents first. 

I bring this up to note that I've been keeping tabs on the little things we get wrong vis a vis our grown children. That is, little or big things we do that may offend our children or their spouses and bring tension to our relationship with them. I'm focusing here on our role as grandparents. With reason. “I would place ‘intrusive grandparents’ in the general category of challenges that adults and couples face in managing relationships with their respective families of origin, and with parents in particular.” Thus spake a clinical social worker whose clientele are working through these issues.

In the interest of keeping our sensitivity antennae in working order, here are some of the offenses I hear young parents complaining about (about us) with some regularity:

Serving our small grandchildren foods or drinks that are verboten in their households. Who among us hasn't learned the hard way that a good number of young parents see sweet treats and sugary drinks--even those innocent-looking mini-boxes of orange or apple juice--as the equivalent of poison. (If we have more than one child starting a family, we may have difficulty keeping tabs on which household doesn't mind our serving their child a grandma-baked cookie and which does. C'est difficile.)

Offering young mothers and dads a constant stream of advice on childrearing--of what worked for us back in the day. It may make young parents feel like they are being judged and put them on guard to defend themselves. (That said, one of the mothers making this complaint added that, annoying though the constant advice is, she realizes her mother has the best of intentions and is grateful to have her in her young son's life.)

Taking it personally and being unkind when a small grandchild takes his or her time to warm up to their grandparent, even one they see regularly. One young mother complained that her mother-in-law would get so offended when her toddler son clung to his dad that grandma would walk away from her grandson in a huff or tell him she was not going to play with him today. 

Just to put all this "wrong-doing" in perspective, one young mother said that despite the occasional misunderstandings with her mother over discipline and food, she valued the benefits her child experienced by having a loving grandmother. Here's how she put her Aha! moment:

“Grandma’s house isn’t home, and grandparents get to have a different relationship with our children than we do. When I’m not there, it’s O.K. if my daughter eats an extra candy or gets to eat applesauce, graham crackers and a marshmallow for lunch. Those times [with grandma] are memories she will have forever.”

painting: Frida Kahlo

---

 

 

Social Media Etiquette: Tips for staying in touch with the in-college grandkids

Some of us have grandkids who are away at college. Naturally, we want to stay in touch. We may even expect that contact to be as close and regular as it was when they were youngsters living with their parents. And yet we may be disappointed that our in-college grandkids are a little more distant now. They don't answer every text, email or direct message we send them.  When we don't get a reply we may be disappointed--even frustrated.  And that begs the question: What are the rules of the road here?

One suggestion is to lower expectations: We may want our communications to be back and forth but our grands are making new friends, going to challenging classes, trying out for teams or clubs and, of course, studying and partying hard. Their lives are full and full of new responsibilities. A daily e-chitchat with their grandparent? Maybe it's an additional pressure they don't need right now.

That doesn't mean we have to stop our end of the conversation, but we can take the pressure off them to respond. The least-cliched bit of advice I came across in this regard was this simple suggestion (thank you Grand Magazine here and here): Tack an NNTR onto whatever it is you're sending. It stands for "no need to reply." It lets your grandchild/college student read (and delight) in your message without feeling guilty about not replying. 

That leads to another tip: Let your emails or texts be something amusing, informative or newsie--a funny anecdote, a report on the whereabouts of one of their cousins, a link to research they may find useful for one of their courses.

Last piece of advice for now: You don't want to clog up their accounts or be in touch so often that, much as they love you, they groan to see it's a message from you, again--even though (and maybe especially if)  it's a forward of a fwd of a series of jokes about aging that your friends are sending around.

Have you got any suggestions to add to this? Pop it in the comment box if you would.

art: grandparents by Suzanne Jackson

Vacationing with Grown Children: Are their romantic partners welcome? Even if they're married to someone else?

When we invite our grown children to join us on vacation--when we're footing the bulk of the bill--how much say do we have on whom our child can bring along as our guest. A long-time girlfriend or boyfriend: Most of us would say OK. A romantic interest of a few weeks: That might be a little more complicated. But what if the long-standing boyfriend or girlfriend is married to someone else?

If you're reaching for the same quick-reflex answer I had--No Way!--hold on. Philip Galanes at Social Q’s turned my head around (and introduced me to the term "polyamory.") Let me delay no further. Here's his answer to a mother who's divorced from a man who cheated on her. She has invited her daughter to join her on a trip to Greece. The daughter wants to bring her boyfriend, who is married to someone else: 

I may be off-base, but I don’t think the real issue here is the cost of a trip to Greece or your ex-husband’s infidelity. This is about respecting your adult daughter’s choices. You have substituted your idea of happiness for hers. This is a common (and often well-intentioned) trap for many parents. It’s not productive, though.

Let’s put aside the trip to Greece and the specter of your cheating ex. Unlike him, people in polyamorous arrangements usually set ground rules with their partners for opening their relationship to others. (No one is cheating!) Try to understand, as best you can, what your daughter likes about this arrangement and how it satisfies her.

As a show of respect, read up on polyamory before you broach the subject with her. Then ask questions. I am not suggesting that you set aside all of your concerns — only that you try to respect your adult daughter’s decisions. In a more open-minded context, you may find that the trip to Greece resolves itself.

painting: Mykonos by Mikki Senkarik

 

 

Image