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

Grown Children: Are we parenting them or are they taking care of us?

03/19/2018

Two years ago, a friend's son advised his parents to stop skiing. As a doctor, he'd seen too many broken hips among his older patients; he didn't want his mom and dad to be among them. This year he wanted then to stop bicycling.

A number of our friends say their kids want them to buy new cars with lane-change warnings and other driving aids. Or they don't want their parents to take adventure vacations in less-trod parts of the world.

When we were living in our three-story house on a hill in suburbia, our son had a chat with us. "You guys ought to sell the house," he said, listing lots of positive reasons why we should dump the house where we raised him and his sister. Then in tones that hinted at the deeper core of his message he said, "Then there's the driveway." It's a long one, steep and curving. It's hard to shovel when it snows and treacherous when black ice pools on its lower rungs. He didn't want us to deal with its dangers anymore.

Our kids are not just coming up with reasonable suggestions, they are starting to "worry" about us–just as we worried about them when they were toddlers or fifth graders. Is there a tipping point when our kids become our advisers instead of us being theirs? We clearly do not yet need them to manage our finances or make decisions about our welfare–we're not old or fragile–but we sense the first tilt in the balance of care.

The shift is a subtle part of a continuum. We've gone from being parents who controlled their lives ("No, you may not put your finger in the electric socket.") to ones relegated to advisory. ("Have you checked with another insurance agent?) That's the role we play as they marry and have children of their own: Advisory parents but ready to leap to action if we sense danger, disaster or some other set back. That's what parenting grown children is all about: We sit in the back seat until there's a need or request to grab the wheel.

Now comes this tipping point. They mature, become heads of households, have careers and live multifaceted lives. We are aging as gracefully as we can, staying active but retiring from full-time jobs and unwinding careers. We can't quite keep up on the annual hike to the waterfall; we need a hand to get over some of the rocks. It seems in the nature of things that there would be a subtle switch in who the advisory adult is and who may have to take control if we face unexpected danger, disaster or a minor setback in our health or emotional well being. Should we be so surprised that they worry about us almost as much as we used to worry about them?

Even as we gamely send them selfies of ourselves forging ahead on the bike trail, our kids see us as growing frail. When Paterfamilias told his son a supposedly amusing story of how a pothole almost threw him off his bike, our son's face became a study in shock. We had to admit the story wasn't so funny as much as it was a recognition that we weren't the athletic and well balanced bikers we used to be. But we weren't–and aren't–ready to give up our bike rides. Our children (neither are doctors) aren't suggesting that, either–just that we buy hybrid style bikes that are easier to balance than our thin-wheeled road bikes.

We consider ourselves lucky that our children care enough to take notice. But it's a little like being offered a seat on a crowded bus: A relief to sit down but a shock at being seen as eligible for the offer.

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

The Bank of Mom and Dad: Who pays your grown child’s rent?

02/27/2018

Surveys on parent-child financial relationships are often run by or at the behest of banks or other financial institutions. They've got a particular reason to understand what's happening financially to the generation that should be forming households and buying homes.

That's what makes this most recent study so interesting. It's by analysts at the New York Times (informed by a data set known as the P.S.I.D. Transition to Adulthood Supplement.) It found that almost half of the people in the data base in their early 20s reported that their parents help them pay their rent. Among those who get help, the average amount is about $3,000 a year.

For some, the dependence stems from difficulties in finding a stable career job. For many others, it's a Big Expensive City issue. Skilled work is increasingly concentrated in high-rent metropolitan areas, and salaries aren't in sync with rents. Help from the Bank of Mom and Dad is a means to staying on the job in order to move ahead.

Some data bits from the study:

The average amount of parental help for the 20-somethings — roughly $250 a month — covers 29 percent of the median monthly housing costs in America’s metro areas.

Twenty-somethings who work in farming, construction, retail and personal services tend to get the least parental assist; those in the art and design fields, the most–an average of $3,600 a year. In part that's because of the high barriers into fields like art, education, health and law.

Young people in metro areas with a million or more people are 30 percent more likely to receive rent money from their parents–almost twice as much money– than those in smaller cities.

In the 1980s, fewer than half of 20-somethings received any parental support; by 2010, nearly 70 percent did.

Living expenses account for only 20 percent of the help that parents give their children. According to the survey, the bulk of the support comes in the form of lump-sum gifts for things like a down payment on a house or capital to start a business.

Little did we know–and a point the survey makes–is that being able to reassure our kids that the Bank of Mom and Dad would be there for them influences the decisions they make–from what to major in in college to the career they choose. It's also a reminder that economic advantages begin at home and continue as kids grow into independence.
PARENTING GROWN CHILDREN: The children may be grown but we still have our issues.

Thoughts on Being Thanked: Pen on paper or cellphone text, often or is once enough?

02/12/2018

Some of us don't like our kids or grandkids to thank us via email or text. We'd like our gifts acknowledged the old-fashioned way: with a handwritten note. There's something polite and etiquette-right about pen (or crayon) set on paper–and the time it takes to do so. When young grandchildren embroider those notes with their very own drawings (see above), we're in orbit. But we live in a digital world. Our older grandkids and grown kids are happier using their thumbs to let us know they appreciate a gift we've sent. They're more likely to send a note–full of their immediate enthusiasm–if they can pick up their smartphone and tap it out. It's up to us to decide how "traditional" a reply we're willing to accept. Insistence on tradition may come with a cost–a delay of thanks or a less spontaneous response.

Whether or not we say Yes to the Text, some of us can't be thanked often enough. Sometimes we ask how, say, a grandchild enjoyed a book we sent. And we may ask several times, even though we've already gotten an answer. One grannie defends her practice of asking for thank yous over and over again, saying, "Hearing that what we do is appreciated and liked brings a smile to my face."

That said, the constant "request" for a thank you can be annoying, even irritating, to the receivers of those gifts–not so much the little grandkids but the parents, aka our grown children.

When a reader posed a question along these lines to Carolyn Hax ("We always thank her for gifts, and these comments feel like she's asking for thank-yous over and over again"), Hax offered several ways for the grown child to deal politely with the recurring queries from her mother about a gift. (One approach: deflect the query with a question, such as "Oh, did you not get our thank-you note?")

But Hax wasn't the only one to respond to the issue. Several of her readers did, addressing not so much the grownchild's question as the grandparent's need for the reassurance that multiple thank-yous bring. One reader suggested that if the grownkids take repeated inquiries as pressure for repeated acknowledgements of your gifts, "then tell your kids you ask these follow up questions because it makes you so happy to bring the grandkids happiness. Say that's all you mean by it and hope you aren't misconstrued."

There's also this: If you've received a thank you–by phone call, email, text or in-person hug–enjoy the expression of enthusiasm and bask in the satisfaction of it. The additional pleasure in hearing a thank you again and again may not be worth the annoyance factor.

(Link to Hax column:Carolyn Hax: I can never thank you enough. No, seriously, it’s become a problem.
PARENTING GROWN CHILDREN: The children may be grown but we still have our issues.

Observation: PepsiCo CEO Indra Nooyi on respecting your offspring’s maturity, growth and point of view

02/07/2018

Forbes gives Indra Nooyi the #3 spot on its list of the World's Most Powerful Moms. Her two daughters are now young adults and in a recent interview with Freakonomics' Stephen Dubner, Nooyi talked about how she has had to adjust her approach to her children–not just to their growing independence and maturity but in stepping away from the cultural ties of her upbringing in Chennai, India.

Here's some of what this Powerful Mom has to say about parenting:

For a long time, especially given my cultural upbringing, I thought you just listen to your parents and you did whatever they asked you to do. Until I had my own kids. And they told me, “No, we are people too. We have our own mind, we do our own thing.” And I learned the tough way, that the rules that applied to me, from my parents to me — I mean, I was a very dutiful kid in many ways. And if the parents said, “Jump over this line,” you jumped over the line, and you didn’t ask questions. As I had children here, and my husband and I, we learned that they’re people too. They have their own thoughts and ideas, and we have to jointly evolve a point of view, as opposed to, “You will listen to me.” In life I’m learning a lot of lessons that are different from my own cultural upbringing.

Dubner also asked Nooyi about the conflicting pressures of being a mother and a daughter as well as a C.E.O.of a billion-dollar company.

NOOYI: I think we grew up in a culture where our parents basically said, “Don’t let these jobs get to you, whatever your job is, because at the end of the day your first priority is being sort of a wife, and a mother, and a daughter, and a daughter-in-law,” and all those roles we have to play. I have a mother who, in particular, believes that fiercely, and believes that these jobs give you crowns, and leave those crowns in the garage. When you come home, don’t try to pretend that you’re still the big boss, because you’re not.

DUBNER: Does that seem a little unfair, because if you were born male, that — she probably wouldn’t say that to you?

NOOYI: That’s correct, but I can’t change her. I can either spend my time trying to change her, or just say, “You know what? Let her think whatever she wants.” All the times that she’s with me, I leave the crown in the garage. The rest of the time I at least bring it and leave it on the front door or somewhere, or a table sort of in the garage. You know something Stephen, I think we all have to develop adaptation strategies, because if we don’t, we’re going to start feeling resentful or angry with whatever’s happening around us. From my perspective, my mom says “Leave the crown in the garage?” Fine, I left it in the garage. I’ve been married 37 years to the same guy. I don’t think I could have balanced all of this, had I brought my crown into the house every day. There’s no way it would have worked. And would I have liked to have brought it in? No, not at the expense of my marriage and my children. I’m married to a great guy, but it required constant, sort of, adjustments to make sure that we both were equal versus each other, and to our children we both were parents, and one was not C.E.O. and one is not C.E.O. I don’t think that works at home at all.
PARENTING GROWN CHILDREN: The children may be grown but we still have our issues.

Money Matters: The unintended consequences of overextending a financial lifeline

01/28/2018

original photo: Palo Coleman

The call came to Paterfamilias. A friend asked if PF could look at his son's resume and counsel him on his job search, a search that wasn't going well. After graduating from college–the first in his family to do so–the son came home to live with his parents but didn't seem to be doing much to get a career job. He did some occasional waitering thanks to his dad's connections, but three years into his post-graduate life, the son seemed to be do little more than fiddling with his smart phone and raiding the refrigerator. The dad was frustrated and thinking of telling his son to move out and support himself.The son is not alone. Lots of twenty-somethings are returning home after college (nearly half of the post-college Millennials who responded to a TD Ameritrade survey in May said they had "moved back to my parents home after college."). Some are failing to launch, with their parents providing financial assistance longer than they expected or intended.

There are times when the helping hand (even if it's just room and board) is in order and affordable. Every family's situation is different, but wherever we fall on that continuum between supporting our kids and insisting they stand on their own, there are consequences to our provisions of assistance.

Some are obvious, like the possible financial strain on our checking or savings accounts. What's being spent to pay an adult child's rent, to feed and clothe them or foot their cell phone bill is money that could be used to pay our bills or be squirreled away in a retirement savings account. When financial assistance goes out in small increments rather than one big lump sum, we may lose track of the negative impact.

Even if we can afford to provide the support, by paying their bills we may be enablers in delaying their ability to function independently and prioritize between "need" and "want." Living at home free of financial responsibility or depending on mom and dad to pay for upkeep eases a necessary burden of responsibility.

There's another unintended consequences that may not be as clear: The impact on the family dynamic. On some level, a body of psychologists tells us, our kids equate gifts with love and when we help one of our children, the others–even if they are doing well financially–may feel we're playing favorites. To ease that tension, we may want to make offers of help to our other children. Or at least an explanation of what we're doing, why and for how long, and whether it will even out in the end.
PARENTING GROWN CHILDREN: The children may be grown but we still have our issues.

Parenting Grown Children: Or are they starting to parent us?

01/16/2018

I walk into my daughter's kitchen on a Sunday morning–Paterfamilias and I are visiting for the weekend–and there she is, our daughter working with her daughter (my Grand) on a home work assignment. My daughter is the sounding board, reacting to her daughter's thoughts and questions about an essay our Grand is writing for history class. It's on the Sixth Amendment (Don't bother to look it up. It's the right to a speedy and fair trial).

It's a touching scene–my daughter taking her time to discuss the constitutional issues with her child and encourage her reasoning or redirect her research. It's what parenting is all about.

That afternoon, my daughter and I take a walk. She asks about my blog and a memoir I've been mulling over about my years at Time Inc–my first job right outta college and smack in the middle of the Mad Men years. As she was that morning with her child, my daughter turns into a sounding board–asking questions, offering advice and suggesting avenues of research.

It's touching. Her suggestions are helpful, encouraging and right on point. Is this parenting in reverse? Or should we call it "parenting up?"

We hear a lot about the sandwich generation–how many adult children are caught between taking care of their children and assisting their increasingly frail parents. We've read Roz Chast's "Can't We Talk About Something More Pleasant" for an up front and personal account that covers the frustrations of that journey from an only child's perspective. We aren't on that "something" road. We aren't dependent or frail–at least not yet. But our children are full grown, mature and alarmingly wise adults. We can talk as equals–even though there's a hint of a tilt in the balance toward them. They have become as good at advising us as we have been at offering them our best counsel. We're at a peak moment.

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

Parenting Grown Daughters: What did we see when we saw “Lady Bird” ?

01/06/2018

Many of us who saw Greta Gertwig's Lady Bird were jolted into remembering our difficult relationships with our mothers–or, even closer at hand, with our daughters. A friend–the mother of a daughter who has been living abroad for 10 years–sent this email:

Have you seen Lady Bird? The mother/daughter relationship was heart breaking and I have spent time thinking about the times what I wanted my daughter to be got in the way of my liking what she was.

I am going to suggest she see it while she's here [on a two-week visit]. If she does, that should make for some interesting conversation.

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

Grandparenting: Building a special tie with a grandchild

12/26/2017

When she was four, my youngest grandchild delighted in my tai chi and yoga demonstrations. I would show her how in Tai Chi we "embrace the moon" and "stroke the wild horse's mane" then we would move on to a yoga flow of mountain to tree to falling star poses–at which point she and I would fall over and laugh. She's nine now, and as her older brother and sister concentrate their physical efforts on soccer, soccer and soccer, she has become my yoga buddy.

Whenever I come for a visit–she lives in Albany; we live in Maryland–we head for the basement to practice yoga. We make our way through cat and down dog, the warrior poses and triangle. We try eagle and cobra. But this is all prelude for her: she has her eye on shoulder stand–with an assist. I hold her up by her ankles, give her back a support with my shin and slowly ease back a smidgen of the assist. Each visit she's just a little stronger, a little more able to use her abs and arms to "hold it" on her own–even if it's just for a second or two. She loves to hear me tell her how much progress she's making with shoulder stand.

There's a special grace in sharing yoga with her. It's a way to do something special together –something no one else in her family can usurp or do better than she can (as is the way with older siblings). This last visit over Thanksgiving, she seemed to feel the same way about our yoga tie. As her grandpa and I were leaving to catch our airplane, she and I had our usual goodbye hug. I mentioned how much fun she seemed to have had on Thanksgiving day when she ran all over the house playing nerf gun shootout with her uncle. "Yes," she admitted, that had been a highlight. Then she whispered, "also the yoga."

Every morning when I roll out my yoga mat, I smile at her three little words and am warmed by my yoga buddy.

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Family Togetherness: Holiday rules and remembrance

12/06/2017

When our son got married, he and his bride set down a holiday marker: Thanksgiving with his parents in Washington; Christmas with her's in Maine.

Several years have passed. Family growth has marked the passage of time. Thanksgiving is still "ours"–and includes, of course, our daughter and her family. But the hosting mantle has passed to our son and daughter-in-law. It no longer made sense for our son's family of five and our daughter's family of three to board overcrowded holiday flights for a trip to ye olde homestead. Now our daughter drives three hours to her brothers house and we take on the burden of flying there.

I have no complaints. "The old order changeth yielding place to new." Tennyson may not have had parental roles in mind but that's part of what parenting grown children is all about. Our grown kids edge their way into our place on stage. We're no longer the actors in charge.

In the morning after this year's family feast, I catalogued what I miss about the days when Paterfamilias and I ruled the roost and hosted the holiday.

The mix of family with Best Friends. I cooked the turkey and pies; our friends brought the sides. It halved the workload and gave them and us the chance to catch up with each other's grown children and grands.

The scent of the house from the rush of cooking and baking.

Setting the table with my mother's best dishes and my mother-in-law's silverware: a memorable re-use of their treasures.

The morning-after sound of our grandkids having breakfast in the kitchen while paterfamilias and I lolled abed upstairs.

The turkey carcass: all mine to pick at after our kids and the bulk of turkey leftovers have left the building.

I also remember the upside to "yielding place to new." Here's what I don't miss.

Stocking the fridge and pantry for all the other meals weekend guests will need, which includes remembering individual preferences such as chunky peanut butter, soy milk (or was it almond his year?) and apricot jam.

Figuring out what to do the year we forgot to put the Tofurkey (three vegeterians are amongst us) in the oven. Ditto for the year when the turkey was grossly undercooked.

Dismantling the blow-up beds when the weekend visit is over.

Clearing out the never-will-be-eaten leftovers from the refrigerator.

The sudden silence in the house after the grown kids and their families leave for home.
PARENTING GROWN CHILDREN: The children may be grown but we still have our issues.

Holidays with Grown Children: The good, better and stress of family togetherness

11/29/2017

Thanksgiving is a family get-together favorite–for the most part.

It's easy because there are no gifts, decorations or other "extras" to drive everyone to hyperventilate.

It's fun because it's a gathering of several generations of family under one roof–plus the occasional "orphan" or two, which usually brightens the conversation.

It's simple because the meal is pre-ordained. In our family, we've settled into a routine of who will do what–especially the vegan variations. (Shout out to Whole Foods for its very edible vegan fruit pies and pumpkin pie.)

That said, Thanksgiving isn't all that stress free, especially for the parents of the grown children and the grandparents of their children. When the holiday means three to four days at the home of one of one's grown children–when the mantle of hosting has passed to the next generation–there can be a lot of uncomfortable "down time."

We who provide extra helping hands in the kitchen (the stuffing/dressing is my domain) do not feel it as much as those not drawn to kitchen duties. This was especially true this year when one of the Grands in whose home Thanksgiving now takes place turned 16 and was the very proud possessor of a brand-new driver's license. He was Volunteer #1 for any and all errands and store pick-ups. That meant Paterfamilias, who usually broke up the "down" time by running errands, was out of a job. Not fired so much as by-passed.

"Down" time aside, when our grown children and their spouses get together–our children don't live near each other or us–there is a lot of reconnecting. We see each of our grown children and their children several times during the year, but our grown children have fewer face-to-faces with each other. Long and short of it: We're a bit of a fifth wheel at the reunion. It is so wonderful to have both our children and all our grands together under one roof for at least 24 hours, but it is also a battle to feel relevant and be heard.

We should remember–though it's hard to reconcile ourselves to–Lao Tze's philosophic advice, as quoted in my previous post.

Your silence is as beautiful as the Harvest moon.

In another bit of poetic advice ("for the second half of life"), Lao Tze says this (as re-interpreted by William Martin in The Sage's Tao Te Ching):

Whatever your losses,

hope and happiness can be yours.

Act each day with compassion

for yourself and others.

Let each inhalation bring you peace

and each exhalation dispel your fears.

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