PenPenWrites

parenting blog, memoir notes, family punchlines & more

© Penelope Lemov and Parenting Grown Children, 2025. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given.

  • PARENTING GROWN CHILDREN: The children may be grown but we still have our issues.

    Family by r bearden

    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

  • PARENTING GROWN CHILDREN: The children may be grown but we still have our issues.

    Thinker

    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

  • PARENTING GROWN CHILDREN: The children may be grown but we still have our issues.

    Ferryman_ivan_canu

    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

  • PARENTING GROWN CHILDREN: The children may be grown but we still have our issues.

    Cradle claude monet

    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

     

     

  • PARENTING GROWN CHILDREN: The children may be grown but we still have our issues.

    Two women degas

    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

     

     

  • PARENTING GROWN CHILDREN: The children may be grown but we still have our issues.

    Picasso Harlequin musician

    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

  • PARENTING GROWN CHILDREN: The children may be grown but we still have our issues.

    Self-portrait-sarah-cain 2

    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

  • PARENTING GROWN CHILDREN: The children may be grown but we still have our issues.

    David-c-driskell--yoruba-circle

    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

  • PARENTING GROWN CHILDREN: The children may be grown but we still have our issues.

    Picasso still life
    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

     

  • PARENTING GROWN CHILDREN: The children may be grown but we still have our issues.

    Doug river park

    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.

    Maia river park                                                                            River Park, 2022

    photo: Maia Lemov