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

Grandparenting: That "feeling ignored" feeling

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

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

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

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

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

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

painting: Emile Bernard, Breton Woman with Red Umbrella

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

painting: "Red Dance," Kenneth Young

Rebalancing Acts: When our kids become our social advisers

I was invited to a pool party.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More specifically:

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

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

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

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

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

painting: "The Ferryman," Ivan Canu

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

AirTags Can Negatively Affect Parent-Child Relationship

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

painting: Emma Amos, Self Portrait

 

Living Our Legacy: Keeping our kids and grandkids up to date on our past.

 

I recently found an essay I wrote about five years ago about sharing--or failing to--my life story with a granddaughter, of finding out she had to Google me to learn more about my career. Our lives reflect the history of our times and that's reason enough for our grandkids--and our adult kids--to know how the two (our lives and the times we lived through) intersected.  Here's my essay (updated from a previous post), warts and all, plus lessons learned.

My Granddaughter Googled Me

Given the teen preference for texting, an email from a granddaughter in Massachusetts to me in Maryland was a surprise. The subject line even more intriguing: Is this You? it read. The body of the message held links to articles I'd written. A click and I was reading a piece I'd penned for the Washington Post in 1978; another in 1983.

I emailed back: “Unless there's another Penelope Lemov alive in this land, yes. that's me.”

More to the point: Why was my 15-year-old granddaughter sending me links to long-ago and far-away articles? Why, in short, had she Googled me?

The prosaic answer was this: She was applying to a summer program in journalism and had to write an essay about her interest in the arts of communication and the media. One paragraph was about her grandmother (that's me) being a journalist, and she evidently checked that out--looked for proof--by calling up some of my stories.

I am still a journalist--part-time now. But when my granddaughter was born and until she turned 11 I was a full-time editor at a national magazine, having worked my way up from staff writer. 

That being so, the question nags at me: Why did she have to Google me to find out about my standing as a journalist? When I asked the grandfather (aka my husband and a lawyer who once worked for the U.S. Congress) what he thought, he reminisced about all the legal and political issues he had shared with this granddaughter once she was old--or interested enough--to understand.

I had not. My granddaughter knew I had had a career but she had no idea what that was all about. I never talked to her about it. When I went to visit her or she came here, I kept my grandparenting focused on the quotidian. I was observing, getting a feel for what she cared about, thought about, was interested in and how I could add background, anecdotes or information to her concerns. I didn't bring my world to her.

I must have shared a funny story or two--when interviewing sources we journalists are a riot. Sometimes. But I hadn't discussed what I wrote about or the many climbs and plateaus, hurdles and low points I faced--from my first job answering letters to the editor at Time magazine to ending up as an editor and as a columnist on municipal finance at Governing magazine.

"She absorbed some of it by looking around," my daughter said when I brought up the missed opportunities. My home office, which doubled as my granddaughter's bedroom when she came to visit, had various memorabilia hung on the wall for my own viewing pleasure--a plaque for a journalism award, a fake Washingtonian cover with my face on it.

If I ever finish the memoir I'm writing about my years at Time Inc (an aggressively sexist time in the work place in general, in journalism in particular and at Time Inc especially), my children and grandchildren will know more about what this grannie did with her life and what life was like when she did it. It's an important part of the legacy we leave. The life choices we made reflect our values and give our children and grandchildren at least one road map--hopefully among many others--about what paths there are in life and ways to deal with some of the stickier issues life can throw at you.

The written version may be where I'm heading in terms of explaining myself and my world to my grandchildren, but in the meantime, the idea that one granddaughter had to Google me to learn about my career is a reminder (note to self) to share the past--the good stories, fun anecdotes, and rich experiences--with our family in the here and now. It's an on-going story, even if we capture it in a final form some time down the road.

painting: Lesser Ury

Grandparenting: Advice about giving advice

He may not have been writing about parents butting in on their grown children's housekeeping or spending habits or the way they parent their newborns, but Bob Dylan was of the minute on the basic concept:

Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don’t criticize what you can’t understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is rapidly agin’
Please get out of the new one
If you can’t lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin’

In a rundown of new understandings of old practices--science has made some of our standby child-rearing standards irrelevant or even questionable--an article on Katie Couric Media hands out lots of advice on looking beyond "the way we did things." It also speaks to how we can be supportive grandparents who don't undermine our children's confidence in their parenting, especially during that fraught first year.

While the suggestions come with specifics (pacifiers have proven to be a lifesaver not a detriment), the author Mary Agnant , a young mother, also steps back to address us--the grandparents--directly:

Nobody knows better than you how hard being a parent is, and what we want most is to know that you think we’ll be great ones and that you’re proud of us. Having faith in us means not questioning every decision we make.

After writing that,  she leans back on Bob Dylan (see above).

painting: Pierre Bonnard, Bowl of Milk

 

Social Media Etiquette: It's a no-no to post grandkid photos

Lives there a grannie or gramps so dull who is not at the ready to pull out their iPhone and show off photos of their Grands--videos and stills, group shots and solos. We're all a little besotted when it comes to sharing the adorableness of our grandkids.

But it's one thing to let friends hold our phone and watch our precious toddler pulling a truck through a puddle--so cute. It's another to post that video or photo on Facebook or Instagram or another social media platform.

Here's a summary of advice I read on Katie Couric's Media site about posting photos of children; it applies to us and our grandkids especially: 

Even if you have strong privacy settings in place on your accounts, don't post photos of the grands unless and until you know the parents' social media rules and, should your grands be a few years older than toddler, ask them for permission as well. "It helps teach them how to respectfully use social media in the future," writes author Mary Agnant.

The rules do not apply to grandpups. Here's one of mine.

photos: child, pexels; puppy, Palo Coleman

 

A Sad Post

Mike:  1935 to 2024

Dad to two grown children, BaPa to four Grands, chief behind-the-ear scratcher to two grandpups and my favorite husband.

Money Matters: If there are strings attached to a gift, tie them on in advance

Sometimes we surprise ourselves with our generosity. We give our children a large gift-----enough money to, say, buy a car, put a downpayment on a house or take out a first-rate health insurance policy. But then they use the money in ways we did not intend-- they go on a lavish vacation or buy themselves a designer wardrobe. We end up frustrated and angry.

What's our recourse? Here's an answer from Philip Galanes and his Social Qs.  It's to a widowed mother who offered her only child the gift of the family home. While the gift is a house per se, Galanes' answer covers all the gift bases:

The mother in question wrote Galanes to say she had offered her son and his fiance, who live in another city, her home if they would "come back here to raise a family." The son accepted but when she suggested he build a guesthouse on the site for her, her son demurred. "They assumed," the mother writes, "I would move into a condo. I was shattered! The next day, he said he was sorry if I felt they were kicking me out of my house. I do. I also think if I don’t go along with them, they will stay where they are. "

Here's the gist of Galanes' answer that applies to all of us gift givers. (bold face are mine):

Your impulse to give your home to your son was a generous one. But even with gifts — maybe especially with gifts — it is crucial to express any conditions we have in mind when we make the offer. Here, I don’t think a reasonable person would expect the gift of a home to include your continued residency in it — unless you mentioned that fact.

Now, I also know how natural it is to daydream about happy situations. For you, that may include living in an extended-family household with your son and his fiancée. And it’s easy to assume that other people want the same things we do. That’s why communication is so important: Sometimes, they don’t.

art credit: Hilary Pecis, "Piecemeal Rhythm"