It’s Complicated: Parenting Adult Children
Four principles for offering support without overstepping as your children build their own lives.
I’m lucky. My children are thriving—married to caring souls who fit them well, raising my adorable grandchildren, working in jobs they enjoy, and navigating life as best they can. They are independent adults running their own lives. Still, they know that Heidi and I are here as their safety net. I have told them repeatedly, “You will never be hungry or homeless.”
Yet even with all that love and good fortune, my relationship with my adult children is complicated.
It’s complicated because of my desire to protect them. Their lives are far from perfect. Sometimes, when we talk, I hear their worries, stress, frustrations, and tiredness. My heart aches. I’ve written before about how we often find ourselves only as happy as our unhappiest child, and it is a difficult place to be. What, if anything, do I do?
It’s complicated because I have unique expectations for my kids. As Heidi and I suffer the inevitable declines of aging, our independence will wane. I hope and expect the children will help with the parts of our life we can no longer manage on our own.
It’s complicated because our perspectives are different. My Grandma Lucy quipped: “Generations can only visit each other”. We were raised in very different environments. My kids are in the busy time of life, juggling jobs, children, and marriage. I am retired, no longer climbing the success ladder. They are in the first half of life; I’ve entered the last third of mine.
Bottom line: I want a close and loving relationship with Rachel and Daniel. I want to be an important part of their lives without infringing on their independence. I want them to live their best lives as I live mine. In that pursuit, here are four tenets I keep top of mind.
1. Acknowledge You Don’t Know What’s Best
When my children were young, it was my job to decide what was best for them. Not anymore. They are independent adults in charge of their own lives, with their own inner wisdom. I’m blind to some of their hopes and fears. Their choices should reflect their values, not mine.
Letting go of the belief I know what’s best for them is a challenge for me. Old habits die hard.
2. Be A Sounding Board
When my children open up, my job is to listen. To be curious. To ask them questions to help uncover their blind spots. To give advice only when asked.
When I feel an irresistible urge to give advice, I ask for permission to offer suggestions. I remind them they can tell me “no”. If they do choose to hear my ideas, they don’t have to follow them.
When I do this well, I give my kids the space to connect with their own wisdom.
3. Allow Them to Struggle
Watching my children struggle is far harder than navigating my own challenges. I feel a giant tug to save the day, to take away the source of their angst.
When we struggle, we grow.
I do my best to resist that pull. Rescuing them denies them the knowledge that they can navigate life’s difficulties without me. My heartache is poor reason to rob them of their resilience.
4. Focus On My Own Life
When my children were young, I was a lead actor in their life play. Today, I’m a supporting actor. It’s a role that requires us to separate our own emotional well-being from their temporary struggles, ensuring we don't lose ourselves in their drama.
When my own life is full—when I focus on my health, my relationships, my spiritual work, and the purpose I feel called to live into—I stop trying to live my children’s lives for them.
And when I stop trying to live their lives, I’m more available to love them as they are.
A robust personal life is one of the most generous gifts I can give my kids. It frees them from the burden of being responsible for my fulfillment.
Why This Matters
Money, purpose, family, and legacy are intertwined. As a Dad, I want to offer support without overstepping. I want to be generous without creating dependence. I want deep connection without imposing on my children’s autonomy.
I don’t have all the answers. As I grapple with complicated questions, these four principles help me love my children deeply, accept who they are, and tend to my unfolding life.
I hope you find them useful.
Until our next conversation,
David
If you are currently navigating a season where your child is struggling, you may also find comfort in my previous post: As Happy as Your Unhappiest Child.
Small Steps & Worthy Questions
Where are you still holding onto the belief that you know what’s best?
Consider if you are pursuing interests that give you purpose beyond your role as a parent. A fuller life for you is a lighter burden for your adult children.
Is your motivation about easing their struggle—or easing your discomfort?
Ask what they need before you offer anything. Consider their request carefully. Is it something you want to do? It’s ok to say “no”.
If you love this, share it with your friends, foes, and even perfect strangers. Let’s change the way America thinks about money.
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Reading your article reminded me of Gibran’s poetry, which I first discovered at a young age. His wisdom granted me a peaceful heart, and his poem on children specifically shaped me into a more grounded mother. It helped me navigate the very challenges you describe.
Watching our children evolve into independent adults and parents is simultaneously difficult and deeply rewarding. I have found this stage to be one of the best seasons of my life. By observing their journeys, I’ve learned to offer support only when requested and only in ways that truly empower them. I have released them to explore their own potential, allowing them the space to learn from their mistakes. I often remind them that without these experiences, they wouldn’t develop the strength necessary to eventually help others.
As for my grandchildren, I strive to be a consistent presence in their lives. Most importantly, as a Christian mother and grandmother, I stay on my knees lifting their lives toward heaven with gratitude. I pray for their well-being, health, happiness, and professional success, trusting in their protection. Entrusting them to God in this way is what truly brings me peace.
I am also reminded of Psalm 127:4, which says: 'Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one's youth.' This gives me the strength to let them fly, knowing they are in His hands.
Incredible wisdom here, so articulately shared. I LOVE your framing of resilience. Though my kids are in college (liminal adulthood?) I am enjoying (even when challenging) the intentional redefinition of my role, and thus our relationship. I read a parenting book when they were young that help differentiate between what's the developmental stage, their personality or unique needs, or a result of my parenting. It was very helpful to guide when and how I intervened. One thing I'm noticing now: when they are struggling and I share my OWN experience of that issue at their age, I can help normalize that the struggle is "developmentally appropriate" rather than a unique problem for them. It doesn't solve it for them, but it softens the anxiety that "they're doing it wrong" and reframes it as "what can I learn from this and how do I want to grow next?" As always, I so appreciate your posts! Keep 'em coming!