My Adult Children Want to Litigate My Parenting Methods From 30 Years Ago. Let’s Move On!

Care and Feeding Photo illustration by Slate. Photo by monkeybusinessimages/iStock/ Getty Images Plus. Our advice columnists have heard it all over the years—so today we’re diving into the archives of Care and Feeding to share classic parenting letters with our readers. Have a question for Care and Feeding? Submit it here. Dear Care and Feeding, I’m a 68-year-old father of a son and daughter who are 39 and 34, respectively. At the age of 4, the former was a very talkative and inquisitive child. One weekend afternoon while my wife was out, he was a bit overwhelming, so I told him that he had to be quiet for 10 minutes and that I’d set the timer on our oven. When the buzzer went off, he was free to carry on. He now says he thinks that this was a very bush move. As for my daughter… I found her one day, during middle school, on the couch weeping because her brother was so much smarter than she was in math. (They are both smart, as evidenced by their straight As in high school.) To no avail I reminded her, like most parents would, that she bested him in other areas. My next step was to bite the bullet and simply be honest; she was old enough for that. In effect, I said: “OK, he is better in math, but he’s smarter than me, too.” And then I said, “What am I going to do—kill myself?” She seemed satisfied (with the honesty, not with me ending it all). Oh, how wrong I was. Within the last few years she told me that what I said to her about her brother’s ability was horrible and offensive, and that all of her friends agree with her. Any opinion on these matters for an otherwise happy family? —I Need an Umpire Dear INaU, Here’s the thing. If a person is telling you some three decades later that something you did was damaging, then I think it’s safe to assume that for them it was damaging. Hell, carrying something for 35 years is damage in and of itself. This is not to imply that you were some kind of terrible and abusive father, or that you didn’t also make all kinds of wonderful and caring parenting choices. I’m sure your kids are even grateful for this. But there is a reason they still remember these things: because they made an impact, presumably a negative one. As a general rule, when your adult kid tells you that something you did harmed them, you should not be focusing on whether you think it harmed them. You should be focusing on the fact that they feel harmed. I know you love your children, so it probably matters to you that they feel harmed because not wanting someone you love to feel harmed is truly like the No. 1 directive of love. So my suggestion is to listen—and respond—from that place. You could say “It makes me feel terrible that you felt hurt by these things. It is of course never my intention to hurt you, but I know that I didn’t always live up to that. And I feel genuinely bad about that. If there is anything I can do to help with this, to acknowledge this better, or to help with making it better, let me know. I love you.” You don’t even have to say it super seriously. But I do think you have to say it. It may help to remember that as parents, our words mean a whole lot, even to kids who are trying their damnedest to differentiate themselves from us. (That’s probably why our kids are trying to differentiate themselves from us.) So when you say something like “Your brother is smarter than you,” for your daughter it’s like 50 people saying “Your brother is smarter than you,” and that’s in addition to the 50 nonparental people who might have already said that to her. Thusly, good and caring parenting is about remembering that fact and choosing your words with care. And if a sentence like that lives with her for decades, imagine how much it will mean to her when you tell her that you are genuinely sorry for ever having hurt her. —Carvell Wallace From: My Adult Children Say I Caused Some Emotional Damage. What Can I Do Now? (February 27th, 2019). Please keep questions short (<150 words), and don’t submit the same question to multiple columns. We are unable to edit or remove questions after publication. Use pseudonyms to maintain anonymity. Your submission may be used in other Slate advice columns and may be edited for publication. Dear Care and Feeding, My 14-year-old daughter is a straight-A student, musician, artist, funny, and just generally awesome. She is also a … a recluse, might be a word to describe it. Over the last several years, her friends have dwindled until now she socializes not at all. She seems content to hang with us, spend most of her time in her room drawing, engaging on social media (where I, ahem, happen to know she has very nice, supportive communities), doing homework, etc. I have encouraged her to invite her last friend over (too tired, doesn’t feel like it) suggested sports (hates!), theater, camps, lessons, etc. to no avail. I am an introvert myself so I really get this a lot, but I worry. Her big sister was a social rock star, so I have no experience with this. I have asked directly about depression, and she assures me no, and I don’t think I see it either. She says she has friends at school and online. She is also gay and we are super supportive and so is our school and community but I think she doesn’t quite connect with the straight girls. Any words of wisdom? Is she OK? How can I help, if help is even needed, without labeling or embarrassing her as “friendless” or “the one we are worried about”? —Introvert Worried About My Introvert Dear Worried, Obviously, I cannot confidently tell you that your daughter is fine and well and crushing it at the game of life, based solely on this letter, but … I don’t see a lot of reason for concern here. I am not, in fact, convinced this has much to do with introversion, which is an artificial (though not useless!) label that can smother a conversation about a real live teenager who, for a variety of reasons, seems to enjoy doing the majority of her socializing online (which is very different from not socializing at all). In terms of action items, I would ask her if there are meetups for queer teens in your area, or if she has any interest in starting one. Ask her more questions about what interests her and intrigues her, what she thinks about doing after high school, who she admires, etc. Getting to know your child deeply is never wasted time, even if it can sometimes feel like pulling teeth with teens. A final note: Your use of “ahem” makes me wonder if you are monitoring her social media usage without her knowledge. I have zero issue with parents monitoring a child’s use of the internet (it’s a horror show out there), but I do want to make sure that this is in the spirit of “Here is a phone we pay for, we reserve the right to see what you’re doing with it and limit its functionality” and not “I am silently watching you talk to and interact with your friends.” This is not vital to your question but something to think about. —Nicole Cliffe From: Dear Care and Feeding: My Daughter Loves R. Kelly’s “I Believe I Can Fly”. (March 1st, 2019). Dear Care and Feeding, For the first time in my 10 years of being a parent, I am really struggling—for real. My husband and I have one son, “Evan,” and we both have excellent relationships with him, but I have reached a roadblock I am not sure how to get around. Without knowing us, you would never put my husband and me together—he is a jock, super social, loves and plays sports, a real “guys’ guy.” I am an introvert and artist and have never played or watched a sport in my life. But he’s my best friend, and we just get each other; I wouldn’t trade my relationship with him for anything. Our son is just like him, and I couldn’t be prouder. But I struggle. I want to be involved in Evan’s life, and I try. When he was little, I loved taking him to his sports outings—they were so cute, the competition was minimal, and the emphasis was on having fun. But now Evan is involved in a lot of competitive sports; he plays everything—volleyball, hockey, soccer, basketball, and football. He is very athletic, works very hard, and is even the captain of a couple of teams. I find the whole thing very stressful. I don’t understand what’s happening with any of it. Sports have a language I just don’t understand (I have tried), and I find the tension overwhelming. I am shocked at how animated the parents get and how obsessed they are with winning—it’s a game! Let them have fun! People actually get upset about this stuff? My husband sees how stressed the whole environment makes me, and he encourages me to limit my involvement, but how can I do that? I only have the one child! It means so much to Evan that I watch him, and I want to, but I just don’t want to be in that world. My husband coaches most of the time, so I’m usually on my own in the stands, and the anxiety I experience attending these things is getting worse; I am starting to dread weekends because that’s when most games take place. I usually volunteer to help organize, make posters, or fundraise. It’s just the games I hate—which is kind of the point. I have a lot of years of this ahead of me—how am I going to get through this without medication? I am seriously heading in that direction. —Dropping the Ball Dear DtB, You see a problem—I see an opportunity! How great is it that your son has, on one hand, such a strident, athletic, bro-fluence in his father and, on the other hand, an artistic introvert in you. This means that he has the chance to grow into an overall well-rounded person, and that’s cool. It’s fine for your son to know that you don’t super-love going to games. If you’re happy to help and support by volunteering in other capacities, do that. And of course, this opens up the space for you to find other ways to be with Evan—museums, movies, drawing, et cetera. I might recommend hikes or nature walks for the athletic kid and the aesthetically inclined mom. Evan will understand that there are other ways to love him without screaming yourself hoarse on a muddy soccer sideline, and he will appreciate it. You get to draw a boundary here whenever you’re ready, and you get to express your love for your son in the way that you want to. You can trust yourself. He is lucky to have you. —C.W. From: How Can I Cheer On My Athletic Son if I Hate Sports? (March 6th, 2019). More Parenting Advice From Slate What do you say to your 18-year-old niece wearing a Make America Great Again hat at a family party? Respect her autonomy as an adult to peacefully display her political views? Counsel her privately that her choice to wear the hat makes you and other people uncomfortable? Ask her why she’s wearing the hat? Never miss new Slate Advice columns Get the latest from Prudie and our columnists in your inbox each weekday, plus special bonus letters on Saturdays. Advice Family Kids Parenting