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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.

    VGogh reading book

    I sympathize with the frustration: We send our grown kids and grandkids gifts and we get nothing tangible in return–not a word of thanks, no less an "I love it!" It may be that in these days of social distancing from our loved ones, the need to hear a thanks looms even larger. Pandemic or no, I hear about the thank you issue–or lack thereof–all the time. 

    So does Philip Galanes over at Social Qs. "For years, every week has brought at least one new variation on this letter," he writes. The letter in question comes from a reader who sends her daughter monetary gifts that have long gone unacknowledged; she wonders whether it’s time to stop sending them, especially since the gifts are a strain on her budget.

    Galanes starts by saying that the "central question is by far the one I hear most often. I’ve answered it a few times: We give gifts out of love, not to be thanked; speak up gently; if this really bothers you, stop sending gifts."

    But this time Galanes doesn't rest there. He's interested in exploring the root of the problem: Why does this keep happening–to this reader and to many of us. Here's his answer:

    My new theory: If a parent (or uncle or grandmother) sends a gift, year after year, without any acknowledgment from the recipient, maybe the recipient doesn’t experience it as a gift. Maybe your daughter and the others see these presents as their entitlement, like stock dividends or Social Security checks. The fact that the gifts keep coming, without further action, supports their belief.

    That doesn't change the basics of his advice: Ask your child or grandchild to be more thoughtful. If they can’t be, trade the checks for greeting cards.

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

    Travel Monet bridge at argenteuil

    August days are tick-tocking down toward Fall with its school openings and flu season. Now is the supposedly "safe" time to travel–to visit children who live far away and to just plain get away. But is it safe? Some economists have suggested that we older folk should be part of a “targeted lockdown," and stay home since our age puts us in a high risk group for contracting Covid-19.

    Some of us are in the no-go age group but our health is otherwise robust. We're physically active and have no life-threatening underlying disease.  Does that give us a pass to go forth and travel to see our children? I raise this question now since when I wrote a  June post  I looked at safety measures we should take if/when we traveled. But the spread of the coronavirus has accelerated since them. So I'm backing up one step and looking at what the experts have to say about evaluating travel risk. 

    To that point, the Cleveland Clinic has developed a risk calculator to fine tune individual risks. Check it out but with this caveat. Cleveland Clinic doctors say the calculator was designed for healthcare professionals so that they could prioritize who to test. It is not, they say, "for use by individuals who are ‘curious’ about their risk….It is important to caution against consumers interpreting a low risk score as license to ease up on infection prevention measures such as social distancing and masking, as those decisions have public health implications beyond individual risk.”

    Okay. Understood. But what about specific travel risks.

    Some of us may be prevented from traveling because we live in an area where infection rates are high (above 5 percent) and we are unwelcome in states where the rates are low. If we are from a "safe," low-rate state, it might be an additional risk to visit with relatives from infection-surging states. The latest on how some states are adjusting to incoming travelers is in this article.

    If we can make our way around these realities, there are other hazards to evaluate–which is what Paterfamilias and I were forced to do as we planned a trip to see our children. We bought airplane tickets to fly to the city where our son and his family live, made reservations to stay at a nearby hotel for a few days then drive a rental car three hours to another state to see our other child and her family. We haven't been able to hug our children or grandchildren since Thanksgiving. We were feeling hemmed in and in need of a change of scene. We were willing to take some reasonable risks.

    Our flight would be only an hour or so. (Driving was not an option.)  I was comfortable with the short flight until I read an article interviewing a handful of public health experts, NIH's Doctor Anthony Fauci among them. They were all asked about their personal behaviors. Did they go to supermarkets to shop? Did they wipe down their groceries? The answers varied among the five. But there was one question in which they were all agreed. None of them would set foot on an airplane.  Strike one.

    Next risk question: Where has everyone we would be visiting been and what have they been doing? As departure day neared I talked to my daughter-in-law about what safety would look like at their home. They live in a part of New York State that has a low infection rate. And yet. "You know the big kids go out," she told me. "They see friends. Plus they're coaches at a soccer camp." My Grands are responsible kids (they're 19 and 17); they wear masks most of the time; they understand how infection works. But they're teenagers! Long story short: My DIL didn't think it would be safe for us to spend any time inside the house. We could sit out in their backyard, splash around in the pool, take walks in the neighborhood and eat meals at their outdoor table. But what if it rains? Or it's beastly hot? Strike two.

    Next hurdle: State quarantine issues. The third strike came while we were still weighing and wavering. Governor Andrew Cuomo closed New York State to visitors from 31 high-infection states. Our state of Maryland isn't in terrible shape–we're no California, Florida or Texas–but we were on the list of 31. We would have to quarantine for two weeks upon arrival, and good social practice would demand that we do the same when we got home. One could say, the state is unlikely to police us. On the other hand, the policy is there for a reason. We are reasonable people. Do we have the right or legitimate reason to flaunt the policy? (I watched Governor Cuomo's press briefings everyday as he guided New Yorkers from epicenter of infection to a mere 1 percent infection rate. He listened to the scientists; shouldn't we continue to listen to him?)

    All these decisions are personal and full of individual wrinkles and perils. Friends of ours are driving to New Hampshire (Marylanders are permitted to enter) to visit their son. Their grandson is pre-teen and has not been out partying. Their son's house has a separate bedroom on another floor where our friends can stay. The trip sounds safer than ours did.

    So this is my rationale about the particulars on why we made the decision we made. It's personal but there is expert-driven guidance out there for help in weighing travel risks. This is one  that offers practical advice that touches on a range of travel issues, from the relative hazards of riding trains versus planes to assessing hotel safety. Here's what the CDC advises. It includes a lot of easy-to-follow practical travel tips and a "what to pack" list–i.e. hand sanitizers, masks.  Spoiler alert: The CDC would rather you stayed at home.

    painting by Monet, "Bridge at Argenteuil" at National Gallery of Art

     

     

     

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

    Trytich oliver lee jackson

    Here's a loaded question: Is it ever right or fair to leave your children unequal portions of your earthly gains and goods.

    I've looked at this issue in previous posts. Mostly I've talked about situations where one child has done particularly well financially while the other, having devoted themselves to socially important but unremunerative work, has not. The answer I've come up with is that it's okay to tip the scales so long as you let your children know about the plan in advance–and assure them that money does not equal love, respect or pride in their accomplishments. 

    But situations are rarely straightforward. There are always wrinkles. Maybe the wealthier child has grandchildren galore and the "needier" child has none, or vice versa. Maybe one child lives far away and rarely visits, while the other lives close by and is a big and helpful part of a parent's everyday life.

    A wrong move can lead to posthumous ill feelings among your children. We may not be there to see or hear it, but it's not something we want to cause. The issue of fair distribution is an age-old one. In the “Nicomachean Ethics,” Aristotle points out that when people who are equal are granted unequal shares — or people who aren’t equal are granted equal shares — “quarrels and complaints arise.” 

    How do we square things? How should we parse the issue?

    Here are some thinking points raised by column for the NYTimes.

    What does equal mean:

    The challenge is to decide what, in some relevant sense, makes two people equal. The prospective heirs are equally children of the same parent. Some people think that’s the only relevant kind of equality; they leave their estates in equal shares.

    Show me the love. Or not.

    “To my beloved child, Jordan, I leave the bulk of my estate, as a reward for the great care shown to me in my declining years.” Isn’t there something unattractive about this? We don’t want to encourage practices that lead people to display care in expectation of a financial benefit. Indeed, one reason money is a troublesome idiom for expressing gratitude here is that it awkwardly suggests a mercenary motive for those years of filial piety.

    The Indigence Argument

    “To Jordan, I leave the bulk of my estate, in the knowledge that my other children are in no need of further financial assets.” Although this might be embarrassing to Jordan, it’s hard to see a basis of complaint from the other children. …

    Still, an economist might note that there’s an argument for worrying about needs-based inheritance, too. A child who knows that indigence will be compensated for at a parent’s death has less incentive to avoid that state. An economist might also point out that the same share of a parental estate is going to be worth more to the poorer child, in the sense of making a more significant difference to his or her life.

    Posthumous parenting

    The major considerations that move people to favor equal shares, I suspect, is, first, that equal shares can express the idea that parents have equal care and concern for each of their children; and second, that the practice requires no comparative assessment of their children’s lives, virtues or needs. Notice, though, that this posthumous approach doesn’t match what we think is appropriate in parenting. When we’re parents, loving each child equally entails paying attention to each of them, taking note of their different appetites and aptitudes and responding specifically to them. Our equal love would be evidenced by our giving our tennis-playing son a new racket and our golf-playing daughter a new golf club — not by giving them each a tennis racket.

    Bottom line

    If the estate were to be divided in a way that favored one child over the other, the parent should make it clear why doing so was consistent with each having an equal claim to the parent’s love.

    painting: "Trytich" by Oliver Lee Jackson at the National Gallery

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

    Jeweled woman Ingres

    In the best of all possible worlds, we give our children gifts freely. We attach no strings–unless there's good cause and that, of course, is not the best of all possible worlds. We may be willing to loan/gift our child money to help them keep up on mortgage payments or add an addition to the house. We might specify that is what the money we gift them is to be used for–and not for anything else. Or we can just give them the gift and trust they will use it appropriately.

    But what about the valuable sentimental stuff? Let's say we give our future daughter-in-law an heirloom piece of jewelry–a string of pearls our mother used to wear or the diamond from our father's pinkie ring. What a joy to see the jewels out and about with a future member of the family. But then, what do we do if the romance falls apart and the future DIL is the past. Or there's a divorce. Now it's hurtful to see that necklace set off on a sweater of a person who is no longer part of or welcome in the family. Or we want to give it to the next daughter-in-law or a grandchild. Can we attach a post-gift string and ask for the return of a gift?

    Philip Galanes dealt with that touchy issue in a recent Social Qs. A woman wrote in to say she gave as a Christmas gift an aquamarine necklace worn by her mother to the girlfriend of her grandson, who had assured her the relationship was serious. The following Christmas she gifted another heirloom piece to the girlfriend. And then the couple broke up. The woman writes: "I asked my grandson to retrieve our family heirlooms, but his ex-girlfriend refused to return them. What can I do?

    Not much, although Galanes suggests two possible solutions, neither of them dependent on the grandson.  Here's his full reply:

    I’m sorry you mistook a “serious” relationship for one that was permanent (or might yield great-granddaughters). That doesn’t always happen, as you now know. The ex is under no obligation, other than a sympathetic one, to return gifts that were freely given to her. Givers retain no ownership in gifts.

    But perhaps a call from you to the ex about the sentimental value of the jewelry may help? When something similar happened in my family, my mother agreed to buy back the heirlooms. (She was furious about it, but she did it.) Is that possible? And next time, think twice before handing over a tiara you intend to take back if circumstances change.

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

    Tea house

    Friends spent the first five months of the pandemic housing their daughter, her husband and three-year-old Lucas. The young family had been living in Manhattan when New York City became the hot zone for the coronavirus. They felt unsafe and moved in with her parents in suburban Maryland for what everyone assumed would be a few weeks. It was months, and in the interim–while Lucas ran through the sprinkler in granny and poppy's backyard and all four adults worked remotely–the daughter and SIL sold their New York apartment and bought a home in a New York suburb. They moved a few weeks ago. Despite our friends' irritation at their daughter's parenting style (no discipline!), the exhaustion of keeping the refrigerator full and the inconvenience of an overextended bandwidth, my friends miss the happy noise of a full house, the warmth of a 3-year-old's afternoon snuggles and the deepened bond with their grown child.

    I was reminded of their experience by a moving op-ed  Timothy Egan wrote about the few months his daughter, her husband and their 1-year-old twins sheltered from the pandemic with him and his wife, a time he described as "exhausting, kinetic, cramped, and one of the few consistent joys in this awful time." Egan's daughter and her family needed a safe place to hunker down in between a move from one city to another. 

    Now that his daughter has moved her family 1,000 miles away, Egan writes of missing her and the toddlers "who have no sense of gravity, and would as soon walk off the deck into thin air as eat a dirt clod." The multigenerational experience has Egan believing the future points to parents and grown kids  bunking in together once again. He notes housing trends that were already underway: For the first time in 160 years the average number of people in the American household went up instead of down. Pew found that the number of Americans living in multigeneratinal households has increased by almost 70 percent since 1980. He sees the pandemic accelerating the trend.  A Zillow analysis found a 10 percent year-over-year spike in April in the number of young adults living with their parents.

    We don't know what the economy will look like on the other side of the current crisis, but I wonder:  if there are hard times ahead, will that encourage more of us to live with our children?

    As to Egan, he lamented the loss of intimacy when his daughter and her family moved away. "Our house is still and aimless," he wrote, "three generations back to one, and we are left to wonder how so many of us can live like this."

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

    Bank-teller-window

    As we welcomed in the new year of 2020, our adult kids were on a steady financial path: working, paying their rent, fiscally independent. Or they might have been in mid-struggle but showing promise. Then along came the coronavirus pandemic and its devastating effect on the economy. Our adult kids may now be in financial trouble. Some have moved home to shelter with us–and to save money on rent. Some are keeping their physicial distance but asking for tide-over loans.

    Should we apply the same rules to helping them out now as we did pre-disaster? Is the Coronavirus crisis a time for stronger-than-usual doses of compassion?

    To judge by anecdotes that are on the loose in the media and statistics from Pew, whose pollsters follow inter-generational issues, most of us are welcoming–or allowing–our grown kids to move back in with us. More about that fiscal helping hand in a future post.

    What about a loan to help them survive during a failing and flailing economy? According to a survey by Commonwealth taken in the relatively optimistic days of April,  more than half of Americans are worried about the virus’ impact on the economy and their financial lives.

    If one or more of your grown kids needs help in these extraordinary times, here are some points to pop into the decision hopper:

    A run on the Bank of Mom and Dad. That is, one of your grown children could ask for a loan that's a reasonable request and that you want to fill. But our finances have their limits. Are there other children or close relatives–a brother, a parent–who might need help as well. A loan should be seen in the context of how much you can afford to lend and how many key borrowers might have needs.

    Lower expectations. You may want to make the loan a loan–not a gift. You may even write out a loan agreement with interest rates and repayment schedule attached. But gird yourself for disappointment or, better case, lapses. These are truly hard times, even panicky ones for those who don't have money in the bank but do have a family to raise–even if income has been reduced or jobs lost. Unexpected expenses and setbacks happen.  If we're the ones with resources that can survive a hit, we may not like it but we should be prepared to realize the hit may be permanent. Here's a word of advice from a financial counselor: If it's a loan and not a gift, formalize it with a note about terms and then let it go. "Don’t bring it up at holiday dinners. Don’t give reminders. If you can’t do that, we suggest you not make the loan at all.”

    Guarding against a default. Repayment is a bigger issue than ever (see above) but if you've been more generous than you can afford to be and this is money you absolutely need repaid, let your borrower–your grown child or other relative–know the financial reasons in detail. It helps to share why you need this money back, what it has been earmarked for, what setback you would face if the money isn't repaid. Nothing beats communications and transparency.

     Sibling rivalry's ugly head. Lending money to one child  may make the other feel left out, or loved less, or that their eventual legacy from you is being diminished. They may figuratively stomp a foot and whine, "It's not fair!" All kinds of ugly thoughts and emotions can rise up and strike our kids.  Which is not to say such behavior should be honored.  Instead, try a pre-emptive strike via communication about why you're doing what and how it will or will not affect the non-borrowing child. It won't hurt to mention the stress we are all under during this national crisis.

    A grudge against your spending  habits.  If they're in need and have to pay you back–or if you decide not to help them out–resentments about how you spend your money can pile up. They may point an accusatory finger at your going on a covid-safe vacation or buying a new car.  What do the experts advise? It's your money to do with as you wish. But you might want to reassure them you're not going to let them starve.

     

     

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

    Willa thanks 2

    A reader has been in touch about the "thank you" note issue, especially as it pertains to grandchildren and more especially to older grandchildren who may be gifted with a check on a birthday or during the Holidays. It is not surprising that the issue would rear its head again since, in these days of covid-19 shelterings, it is less likely that gifts will be presented to our Grands in person where they can thank us directly and in the moment.

    The reader wants to make clear that an acknowledgement counts. She is not hung up on form–at least to a certain extent. She'll accept email or a text or a personal phone call. (A handwritten note? That's a wish too far. but see Gold Standard above from Grand still young enough to pen a note.)  What the reader is against is the lack of any response or of receiving only a background shout out when she is on the phone with other adults in the household. That is, she has been on the phone with her grown child when a teenage grandchild in the background will shout out, "Thanks for the check, Grandma." 

    She does not consider a shout-out an acceptable form of acknowledgment, and this grandmother has taken action to support her belief. She has warned her grown child and her grandchildren that there is a price to pay for the lack of a thank you that shows some thought and appreciation. She told them she would reduce the amount of the gift if acknowledgements weren't forthcoming. She has been as good as her word. She has sent checks in smaller and smaller amounts as a teenage grandchild fails to make even a feeble attempt at a personal thank you.

    Kudos to her for not making empty threats. And for taking a stand on what's important to her: an acknowledgement that neither she nor her gift should be taken for granted. It's a life lesson as well: When people help you out or are especially kind–be it a co-worker, friend or a server in a restaurant–a bona fide "thank you" goes a long way.

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

    Grandma-sketch

    Their marriage had always been rocky, J tells me. "Constant arguments with moments of pure rage," all of which accelerated as their sons left for college but was in full bloom when they came home. The tension was such that J and G's kids moved out of the home as soon as they could–one taking himself off to Oregon and putting down roots there.  When he came to town to visit friends he stayed with his brother. "The boys didn't want to be with us," J says. "We were always at each other's throats."

    All this is by way of saying that when J and G divorced last year, their adult sons, now nearing their 40s, were neither shocked nor rattled.  Their granddaughter–the child of the son who had been living nearby but whose job had moved him to Colorado–was another matter. The five-year-old loved spending time with her Gammie and Grampa. Now J and G were unlikely to be coming to see her together.

    This became a major concern for J, even though she had a lot of other adjustments on her plate.

    How she chose to handle the issue of divorce with her grandchild–with the help of her therapist– sounded simple and sound to me. So I thought I would share what she told me:

    "My son and daughter-in-law had already talked to Evie and told her Gammie and Grampa were getting a divorce, that they were separating because they fought all the time–not arguments like mommy and daddy had but much, much worse. I thought their explanation was wonderful.

    On a FaceTime call I told Evie she could ask me anything she wanted about the divorce. She wanted to know what it would be like after her grampa and I separated. I assured her that her grandfather and I were still talking to each other, that getting divorced meant grampa and I were no longer going to live together but that both of us would still spend time with her. Of course, with Covid-19 limitations on travel–I'm not ready to take an airplane anywhere–visits to her have been on FaceTime–and separately so far.  We'll see if we do a zoom call for her birthday where my ex and I are  online together. My son doesn't trust on that, yet.

    Mostly I wanted to validate her feelings about the divorce. It was important for me to let her know she's being heard. It's important with kids to be open and honest at their level so they can feel trusted and trusting with adults as much as possible."

     

     

     

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

    Renoir at Phillips Collection

    Boating party

    I'll say this for my most recent "uncelebrated" birthday in May: At least it wasn't a Big One–one that ends in a zero and calls for a larger acknowledgement than usual. This year it was just another year older. Yet, in this time of Covid-19, self-isolation, quarantining and sheltering at home, birthdays can feel less than raise-a-glass occasions. They can get subsumed in sadness, given the uncertainty of the time we are now living.

    Still, I wanted there to be something special about the day of the birthday. My son and daughter live 400 and 450 miles away, respectively, so a backyard visit with kids and grandkids seated 6 feet away wasn't going to happen.  In the past two years, my birthday coincided with a soccer tournament my grandson's team played in and that brought my son and his family from his city to mine. The tournament may have been the reason for the trip, but the visit included candles, cake and the joy at having them around for my birthday. Other years, my daughter and her family  made their way hither and we did something special together–a show, sushi dinner, visits to friends.

    This year, none of the above was possible. (Certainly not the soccer: My grandson graduated from high school and the tournament team.)  Covid-19 was casting its pall and neither child nor any grandchildren would be coming to my house for my birthday–nor me to theirs. Even a festive dinner out was out. The concern, of course, is that these inhibitions will continue for a while. They could even be in place for my next birthday.

    And yet this year's birthday was a joyful one after all. One of the silver linings of the corona misery is that life has slowed down for many of us. For me on my birthday that meant there was time for each of my grown children to hang around the cell phone and have longer-than-usual FaceTime chats with me. No need to rush off to a meeting. Even if there was a meeting, it was by zoom so no need to get up and go someplace.  There were bouyant texts from each of my grandkids (lots of colorful emojis and balloon bombs) plus a call from a nephew who had been out of touch for nearly two years. I had a birthday lunch in a friend's backyard–three of us, seated six feet apart, eating our individual orders of sushi. 

    All told, I not only can't complain, but I had a wonderful day filled with friends and family–some only tech-chat available but nonetheless very much present. I have experienced what may be the future and it's not so bad.

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

    All adults

    I've just turned the last satisfying page of Emma Straub's All Adults Here. One of the novel's  remarkable aspects is how the author toggles back and forth between the mother's (Astrid, the matriarch) and the three grown children's perspectives and cause/effects of her parenting–when the children were small and now, when they're 30-something grown ups.

    It's a book about family life with the widowed mom/grandma still living in the Big House where her children were raised in a small, fictional upstate New York town that's a summer retreat for privileged urbanites. Two of the children have put down roots in homes and businesses of their own in the town; one has taken himself off to New York City. The plot, what there is of it, is besides the point. For me the book is about Astrid and her feelings of alienation from her children, second guessing why they don't confide in her or turn to her for advice or guidance.

    Many of us can identify. For your reading pleasure, here are a smattering of Astrid's observations about parenting her grown children.

    On her New York City son's unexpected request to have his 13-year-old daughter live with Astrid for the upcoming school year.

    It had been so long since there was a child in the house, Astrid had spent days shopping and baking and cooking. …Astrid had baked zucchini muffins with walnuts, an enormous casserole of macaroni and cheese, turkey meatballs, chocolate chip cookies, granola bars studded with plump raisins. She'd bought eight bananas. There were enough tomatoes to can and freeze soup and pasta sauce for a whole winter….

    The blessings of being a grandparent was knowing all the things that had to be done and having the time to do them. Some of her friends thought that extra patience came with age, but that wasn't it, of course. Their calendars just weren't as full. Astrid was clear-eyed about her position. Nicky [her son] hadn't said, Oh, Mom, please talk to Cecelia [his daughter] about everything, please help. He'd said, Can she come? And the answer was yes. Astrid was an able body; she was a safe house. He was complimenting her ability to keep children alive, not her parenting skills….

     

    An awkward lunch with a busy son whose family life with rambunctious pre-school twins is "difficult" at the moment:

    She had wanted to talk to him, to really talk to him, but it was so hard to know where to start. All of a sudden–forty years of parenting in!–she felt like she was on shaky ground. If her son felt this way about his children, if they were making mistakes, how many other mistakes must she have made without admitting them to herself? Her children were the way they were because of all the things she had done and all the things she had not done.

    Contemplating her 13-year-old granddaughter reading a book at the kitchen table:

    Still, it was nice to see a small face tucked behind a paperback, elbows splayed on the wood. Astrid paused at the counter and just watched. This was what she'd wanted–this was what everyone wanted. To have your children's children around, to be young enough to watch them grow, and for them to be self-sufficient within reason. Grandparenting wasn't the same as parenting, thank god, even in cases like this….Cecelia was right here, an easy guest. It meant that she'd done something right with Nicky after all, whether he'd admit it or not.