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.

    Talking

    When our children were young we were on the frontlines: Hyper-vigilant when it came to keeping them safe and confrontational when we feared others posed a threat. Even as our children grow into young adults, we have our super-protective swords at the ready.

    But it's time to back off. At least that's what Philip Galanes in his Social Qs column advised a distraught mother. The column's headline and deck spells out her dilemma:

    My Ex Risked Our Daughter’s Health for … a Photo Op?

    A reader asks for permission to scold her former husband (and his current wife).

    Galanes did not go down the scold road. (The dad behaved badly: He took his asthmatic daughter on a vigorous hiking vacation without telling her that's where they were going; the daughter became ill.) What Galanes advised the mom applies not only to her situation but is a reminder to all of us:

    Your role is to prepare your daughter for the world, not to fight her battles for her.

     

     

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

    Ferryman_ivan_canu
    Thanksgiving is almost upon us, and for some parents, that means more than turkey: The freshman they dropped off at college just a few months ago will be returning home for a few days. Probably for the first time since they left in September.  My experience with this happened years ago and yet I still remember the poignancy of that "first Thanksgiving." How stunning and joyful it was to be reunited with our eldest child and to have her sleeping in her room on the third floor again. I also remember how excited she was to be off to visit her friends. A reminder, if we needed one, of how our adult children are moving away from us.

    More recently, Kelly Corrigan  wrote in an op-ed in the New York Times of the emotional experience of dropping off her daughter at college and of her excruciating awareness of the split path. Corrigan tells us that before she drove her child to campus she (and all other parents of incoming freshmen at her daughter's college) received an email from the campus psychologist. The message: limit contact with your child, including texts; this is a time for your child to "individuate and separate."

    In grappling with this dictum–and coming to terms with her sudden awareness that she doesn't "own" her child–Corrigan writes that even though shegave birth to her child and she could trace many of her daughter's features to parents and grandparents, "I didn't have any ownership over her. Wherever she came out of and whomever she looked like and however much she needed from me, she didn't belong to me."

    Corrigan turns to psychologists to square this realization. Here is what she says she learned from Ariel Trost about "letting go":

    “If we can let go of this notion of ownership and see us as our own and them as their own, it can create a space to marvel,” she said. “Ownership is not closeness.”

    Borrowing from Buddhism, Dr. Trost suggested aiming for a compassionate detachment. Not detachment from our children but from the outcome of who they are becoming. “We are working toward a place where we can enjoy each other,” she said.

    painting: The Ferryman, Ivan Canu

     

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

    Woman weird smile

    As our young adult children move through their twenties and onward, chances are they've had at least one romantic relationship. And chances are that we the parents have met at least one of those romantic partners.  I look back at those years when my children were part of the dating scene (it was a while ago; my children now have children who have romantic partners) and remember that not everyone they dated (am I dating myself by using that word?) was my cup of tea. I found most of them wanting in one way or another.

    At a time when our children are ranging far from home and tribe to make friends and meet possible mates, it's not surprising that they came home with people we weren't comfortable with, disliked or found inappropriate. When that person looms as a possible life partner, is it okay for us to share our misgivings with our child? When we don't like their choice, is it okay to say something?

    The quick answer–and almost every advice column I checked backs me up on this–is no. The only exception is if the relationship is abusive–physically or emotionally.

    But what if we see trouble ahead for a variety of reasons–the person seems adrift or is too young or too old for our child.

    Here's what Amy Dickinson had to say to a mom whose daughter was in a serious relationship with a man 17 years her senior.  "I am wondering," the mom wrote, "whether I'm negligent as her mother by not pointing out the possible challenges, should this relationship continue."

    Amy's answer is one for all of us:

    Unless there are mitigating circumstances, which you don't mention (he is married, was married, has children or a previous unhealthy history with relationships), you must trust that your daughter will make her own way, as we all must.

    A child's job is to grow up. A parent's job is to let them.

    A friend of mine found an indirect way to make his concerns known. He not only disliked the man her daughter was seeing, he also found him inappropriate. He and his wife made it a point to encourage their daughter to bring him to all family events; they invited the couple out to dinner often. "We wanted her to see how poorly he fit in with that part of her life that was her family," my friend says. It worked. The daughter broke up with that partner.

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

    Dinner table Rockwell

    I have a moment of hesitation every time I step up to do something I used to do before the pandemic: Fly on an airplane; ride the subway;  eat in a restaurant; have a dinner party with several friends.

    Now Thanksgiving is on the horizon, and with it inter-family negotiations over what it will be like this year. Last year, our family "feast" was virtual. We had fun via zoom with my son and his family and my daughter and hers. We posted old photos and held a family quiz over captions for the photos. We laughed a lot and everyone participated.  (Here's my post on how we and other families did Zoomsgivings.)

    Now we are free to move about the country and be together in person. I feel that momentary qualm of hesitation. Yet even Doctor Fauci says it's okay. The deeper issue for our family is, will we return to Thanksgiving the way it was before we had to quarantine? How will we adjust to new family circumstances and year-old issues that couldn't get worked out last year? Since our grown children live traveling distance away from us and from eachother, who's going to brave the highways or the congested airports? Will we have to create a brave, new "Build Back Better" holiday?

    Discussions and adjustments are underway. The heart wants to go back to the way things were for the past decade or so, but can we? Our families, like most, are in flux. One granddaughter is in Italy–she won't make it home for Thanksgiving. A 92-year-old cousin, who had not been part of our Thanksgiving revelries, lives alone and has grown frail. He's in need of a holiday pick-me-up, but he doesn't live near any of us. How do we bring holiday company to him? Do we, as my daughter put it, "abandon tradition." Logistics are such that we may have to split up who goes where and change the day of the week that we celebrate the holiday and with whom.

    It's a delicate situation. So many moving parts, so many possibilities and so many sensitive feelings. We have to take care. We could so easily end up with a family misunderstanding or rift. But there's no turning back to yesterday–make that, the year before the year before. 

    “The moving finger writes; and, having writ, moves on…"  Or so Omar Khayyam reminds us.

    I'm hoping that our moving fingers will write a plan for a Thanksgiving we'll all enjoy, where everyone can participate one way or another and where we'll find lots to laugh about. Let the hesitancy end; let the diplomacy begin.

    painting: Norman Rockwell

     

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

    Full table cezanne Peppermint Bottle

    Last week I posted Philip Galanes advice to a mother whose daughters (two out of three) coveted the pearl necklaces the mother no longer wore. His suggestion: Ask the daughters if they wanted heirloom pearl necklaces–or other items in her jewelry box–as a way of dividing up the mother's estate.

    Since that post, Galanes has heard from another reader who says she's been asking her daughters for years if they want various family heirlooms and all she gets is, "I don't care." What to do, the second reader wants to know.

    Galanes' answer is a reminder to many of us who have been rightsizing, downsizing or just facing the frustration of trying to place family treasures with the next generation.

    Unless you have reason to believe your children are not being forthcoming  (it can feel creepy to say "I want that after you're dead!), take them at their word.

    painting:Paul Cezanne

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

    Full table cezanne Peppermint Bottle

    Our treasured goods may be stuffed in boxes under our beds, sitting in clear view on our coffee tables or hanging prominently on our walls. Aside from whether or not our kids will want the stuff, the question is how to apportion the bits and pieces that we've accumulated over our lifetimes and, for some of us, the lifetimes of our parents and grandparents as well.  Not just the stuff that has monetary value but the sentimental stuff as well.

    If we leave it to chance–that is with, say, a reminder to our children and heirs to share fairly–we won't be around to suffer through a fight over the needlepoint cat pillow or the diamond earrings Poppy gave Nanny. But we shouldn't rest easy over the idea of missing the battle. We don't want our family falling apart just because we're not there physically anymore.

    I've written here about how some friends have tackled the issue: making lists of who should get what, of holding "auctions" in the here and now for who gets what later and of tacking labels onto the bottoms of furniture and pictures. Into this morass comes the ever-sensible Philip Galanes and his Social Qs column. He addresses a query on this issue from a reader whose three daughters are squabbling over her two pearl necklaces that she no longer wears. The youngest has asked to borrow a single-strand necklace to wear occasionally; the oldest feels the mother has unfairly given the necklace away to her younger sister. The middle daughter could care less. There is also a triple strand necklace that no one seems interested in. The mother's plea to Galanes: "Help."

    His kernals of wisdom, one of which points to the legacy the pearls represent:

    Ask the daughters "if they’d like an heirloom pearl necklace. If all three say yes, remake the triple strand into two necklaces. If your middle daughter remains indifferent to pearls, give her first choice on another piece of jewelry to be claimed after you die.

    Then let the girls take turns choosing from the remaining items in your jewelry box and keep a list. It may sound macabre, but letting heirs pick from personal property can be a sensible way to allocate it, in advance and without conflict.

    painting: Cezanne. Peppermint Bottle

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

    Maia corfu

    My daughter is aglow. We are on a FaceTime call but I can see the happiness radiating from her face. Her daughter, who started college this year, came home for a day. They took a drive into the country, went on a short hike, stopped to book shop, had lunch out. They talked about everything and nothing. No pressure, no agenda. Just a stolen day together.

    How I remember–and still feel–the joy of spending a day or even a few hours alone with a grown child. Usually, when I see my grown children they come encumbered. In their young adult years, it was with friends or by papers to write or places to go. As the years flew by there were spouses and children. To have a grown child to myself for a few hours is a treasure that's hard to describe: A special warmth, a comfort, a feeling that all's right with the world–or will be. It's not a mom thing. Their dad guards his moments alone with his children as well.

    To hear my daughter last night–and a few weeks ago my son–bask in the glow of spending time with a child who no longer lives under their roof is to relive those companionable and spontaneous moments. The cycle of life is repetitious and reassuring. With so much in the world collapsing around us–our weather cycles,  public discourse, ability to compromise–this is one small thing to feel good about: Our grown children will treasure these moments with their children as much as we did and still do with them.

    photo: Maia Lemov

     

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

    Rothko untitled1

    Many of us take great pleasure in helping out our children financially. If we have the wherewithal we're likely to help them with a downpayment to buy a house. (Roughly 20 percent of U.S. homeowners received gifts or loans to help them buy a home, according to Money Magazine, and most of that money came from us–parents of grown children. Money Mag tells us that if the “Bank of Mom and Dad” were a true business, it would be the seventh biggest mortgage lender in the country.)

    There is at least one hitch to all this Mom and Dad banking. If we have more than one child, they can get ensnarled in bad feelings–toward us, toward each other–over money we've given one child and not the other or others. The business of giving them what we might call "an advance on their inheritance" can be trickier than writing a will. With the 'advance on inheritance" we're still around to feel the sting if one child feels favored over another.

    In a letter to Philip Galanes and his Social Qs column, a reader was feeling that kind of slight.  Her parents had let her know that they had given her sister "a chunk of money to help with a down payment on a house." They told her she wouldn't be receiving a matching sum and for a rational reason: The writer and her husband already owned a house, which they were able to buy with a generous gift from his parents. "My parents aren’t wealthy, so I understand their decision. Still, it stings!" From her perspective, the money they gave to her sister signifies that the parents love her sister more than they love her.  The writer wants to know whether to raise her grievance with her parents.

    Galanes reminds the reader and all of us that the parents’ money is theirs. "Whether they are fabulously rich or just squeaking by, they can spend it however they like. And adult children have no entitlement to it."

    Over and beyond that, Galanes acknowledges that "sibling rivalry for parental love can be painful" and that the writer should talk to her parents about their decision. But his final reminder in this family drama is one we should all take into account at gift giving or will-writing time:

    And for parents: If you intend to make unequal gifts, it can be helpful to discuss the issue in advance. Feelings about parental gifts can run strong!

    We are free to do with our money as we see fit. We don't owe our children anything now or in the future. But that's not really the point. What we do owe them is a sense of fair play–an explanation of why we've chosen to do as we have and why, especially when we choose to help one child and not another.

    painting: Rothko, Untitled

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

    Red dance Kenneth Young

    When I first got into the business of being a grandparent–PenPen to my son's and daughter's children–it was at a time when, not surprisingly, many of my friends were starter-grandparents as well. A common topic of conversation–or should I say stress–was the worry that the "other" grandparents would be favored, would be more "loved" than they, would have more say in their grandchildren's lives.

    Some of this rivalry seemed to be driven by proximity or the lack of it. One friend who lived in New Hampshire and had three grandchildren (her daughter's children) living in Atlanta was convinced that the paternal grandparents who lived in Georgia were more beloved. They were available to babysit in a pinch and offer summer swims in their pool. Although my friend and an indulgent step-granddad visited often, my friend lamented her second-place position.  Her exhibit A: Her daughter had texted her a photo of the granddaughter's newly refurbished room–puffy pillows, bouncy curtains and a sateen bed quilt that hosted a Noah's Ark of stuffed animals.  The other grandma, who had a key to her son and daughter-in-law's house, had surprised the family by re-doing the room while they were away on vacation.  How, my friend worried, could she compete with that.

    Now comes research that should give my friend comfort. There is a  “matrilineal advantage” and it gives maternal grandmothers an advantage over the paternal ones. There are dysfunctional mother-daughter relationships, of course, but in general mothers and daughters have closer ties than mothers and daughters-in-law, and that, the research contends, leads to warmer relationships between the grandchildren and the maternal grannie.

    “The mother-daughter dyads engage in more frequent phone contact, more emotional support and advice — more than mothers do with sons or fathers with daughters.” This is what Karen Fingerman, a professor at the University of Texas, Austin, who has published studies on this topic, told Paula Span of the NYTimes.

    As to a mother's ties to her son's children, it's all about the relationship to her daughter-in-law.  Dr. Fingerman reported that she has found that parents’ rapport with a daughter-in-law — “a key figure” — significantly influences their bond with her children. The mother–whether she's a daughter or a daughter-in-law–is the gatekeeper and she can help or harm grandparental closeness.

    As to my friend from New Hampshire, she can rest easy for another reason. Her daughter (and her granddaughter) were less than pleased that the other grandma had taken it upon herself to redecorate on her own and without consultation the child's room. There is a matter of overstepping boundaries and that's where proximity can be a negative.

    painting: Red Dance by Kenneth Young

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

    Baillargeon_AuCoeurdelaVie

    Labor Day Weekend is a chance to step back and take stock as our kids and grandkids make their way through various transitions. "Summer" is over. The worst of the pandemic and its quarantines is behind us and yet it lingers.  Young-adult kids and grandkids are starting their school year with masks, social distancing and Covid-testing part of the daily routine. But those unpleasantries are dwarfed by this: They are back in the classroom, mixing with friends and meeting their teachers. Their parents–our older adult children–are returning to offices where their work-life is being transformed in ways that may make their personal lives easier.

    Many of us more senior parents feel, as I do, like we are sitting on the sidelines watching these moments unfold. If we've retired, our transitions may be less marked. Maybe that's why I am using this weekend to sop up the signs of positive growth as my grandkids inch toward independence and my children reap the results of effective parenting. There are worries that one child is disappointed about their dorm, that another will become homesick living so far from home or that the youngest and smallest won't make friends at a new school. But I'm not their parents. I'm not involved in the quotidian work of parenting. I'm a silent observer–and if asked, a friendly consultant.

    Right now, the year that gets kicked off by the fall season looks full of potential. There's a world of possibilities out there for our kids and us. With my inner Dr. Pangloss activated, I've luxuriated in a weekend of focusing on the good stuff. That's a grannie's prerogative.

    painting: Au Coeur de la Vie by Baillargeon.