“You’re not wearing that?” How many times did we hear that and other critical comments from our mothers, not only as teens but also as twenty- and even thirty-somethings. My dear, departed mother sometimes made me crazy with her comments. When I complained to a therapist friend she replied, “Your mother knows which buttons to push because she installed them!” She was so right. Mothers know the insecurities sowed when we were children, and, as we become adults, can trigger negative feelings with off-hand (and often deliberate) remarks.

Now as parents of adult children we struggle not to repeat history, particularly when it comes to daughters. Yet the conflicts continue as the Wall Street Journal recounted last week in “’I'm Not Your Little Baby!’ Calling a Truce in Mother-Daughter Conflict.”  The article tallied a litany of prime topics for criticism: clothes, housekeeping, haircuts, husbands, weight, spending habits, grandchildren’s  behavior, makeup or lack thereof, how the dishwasher is loaded, and on and on!

Why do mothers act this way? Is it ingrained in our maternal DNA? Journalist Elizabeth Bernstein interviewed several therapists and reports that among the reasons for this behavior:

Mothers may place unrealistic and at times conflicting expectations on their daughters. They want their daughters to do things they didn’t get to do, but they also want their daughters to be like them. They want their daughters to respect them, and they want them to be a friend.

Of course, we don’t make friends with heaps of criticism, yet mothers often claim that their comments come from love not hostility. It sure doesn’t seem like love to daughters, who often feel they are being treated like little children or with unnecessary cruelness. The daughter’s feelings are magnified, Ms. Bernstein writes, because:

Underneath, they fear they’ve failed the one person they have been seeking approval from since before they could speak.

The opportunity to change this paradigm comes when we are the mothers and our little girls have become young adults. Does turning off the criticism mean biting your tongue, and never enjoying an honest relationship with a daughter? The long answer to that question has filled self-help books and countless hours of therapy. Thankfully, the Journal article provided several suggestions on how to improve the mother-daughter relationship. Some of them are admittedly difficult for both mother and daughters: “Leave your anger at the door” and figure out “What are we really fighting about?” The most-user friendly suggestion:

Find something fun and mutually satisfying to do together instead of the negative pattern. Art? Hiking? Antiquing? Couples who try new activities together are happier. It can be true of moms and daughters, too.

A great idea! Even those of us who enjoy good relationships with our adult daughters can strengthen the bond by spending time as friends, even if it means footing the bill for the spa facial or movie and dinner. Maybe this Mother’s Day the best gift we can receive is one that we give to our daughters to spend time in a criticism-free zone for a relaxed few hours while having fun together.

Of course, there are many mothers who don’t have an adversarial relationship with their daughters, some even taking that “friends” idea to an extreme. A fascinating look at a mother-daughter duo who really get along was provided in “My Mom is My BFF.”

In the New York magazine piece, journalist Paige Williams dissects  mother-daughter parenting styles over the decades and comes to the conclusion that in the 21st century:

Friendship became a kind of parenting strategy: By treating Child as Adult, parents hoped that the kid would actually become an adult, and a good one. The happy outcome for some: mothers and daughters who didn’t have to wait until middle or old age to actually enjoy each other’s company. To maintain peer-ness, there came a coinciding pressure to stay young, technologically supported by the capacity to stay young. Moms have never had at their disposal so many resources—so much paraphernalia—allowing them to shrink the generation gap. If they want, they can practically turn themselves back into teenagers.

Turning ourselves back into teenagers is a bit more work than most of us want to sign up for! However, perhaps we can consider that trip to the spa for a dual purpose: We cement mother-daughter bonding and look younger at the same time.

Financial advisors tell us that the two biggest “raises” baby-boomer parents  ever get are when we pay (a) off the mortgage, and (b) make the final tuition payment.

So I should have been cheering as I wrote that last check a few days ago, right?  Instead,  I cried.

True, part of me was thrilled to be finally finished paying unspeakable sums of tuition for the youngest of my three children.  But the other part of me felt an ache. With this last payment, a chapter in our lives is closing, and although an incredibly expensive one, it’s been worth every dollar.

Of course, part of this tearful feeling is that not having “one in college” makes me feel older – and I’d rather not admit that, so we won’t discuss!

But why shouldn’t I feel emotional? College had been a major investment of time, money energy – and agita. Selecting which schools to apply to, waiting to hear about acceptance or rejection, planning for the launch, four years of attendance, had spanned almost 15 years between my oldest and youngest.  And, I had been planning – and dreaming – for many years more.

I wanted for my children the college experience I didn’t have.  As the oldest of five, I was expected to pay my own tuition, which at $1200 a year, was actually doable in those days. I commuted from home the first year-and-a-half, and then lived with a friend on the fourth floor of a house, in a bedroom with a hotplate.  For $10 a week it was a bargain, and the landlord let us paint the walls and wood floors turquoise. We took the bus down Fordham Road to the university, worked part-time jobs, and had a good time, especially since we both met our future husbands there.

For my own children, though, I‘d always envisioned the kind of idyllic experience that exists in movies and novels, with a rolling campus, football games, a dorm filled with friends, and craggy, Sean Connery- type professors.  For the most part, that’s what they got: from the shores of Lake Cayuga, to flat plains of South Bend, to the hundreds of steps in Chestnut Hill.

The memories pop like a power-point:

With my first son:  Crying as I waved goodbye, and my second child hugging me and  saying, “You’ve still got me, Mom.” Checking the webcam daily made me feel better as did the occasional “Hello. I’m still alive” email I coerced from him. Visiting campus for ROTC events and meeting my wonderful future daughter-law, and her wonderful family, for the first time at graduation.

With my second son:  Making the 14-hour drive for freshman move-in and seeing the Golden Dome for the first time. Befriending his lacrosse teammates and their families and travelling to campus for dozens of games. Sitting in a thunderous football stadium and chanting, “Go Irish!”

With my youngest, discovering that daughters truly are different: Her screams the day she got accepted to Boston College early decision. Decorating the dorm room with her room-mate so it would be color-coordinated. Getting a running commentary on college life via regular text messages (in contrast with her brothers’ occasional dispatches). Watching her perform in decidedly “edgy” plays.  Taking out large groups of girls to dinner and enjoying the nonstop chatter.

After this May, there will be no more move-ins or commencements, special weekend visits or vicariously enjoyed campus life.  However, my college fantasy did come true for them, more than I could expected. There are so many memories to turn over and over in my mind’s eye, with countless photos that chronicle the journey. So, time to dry the tears and focus on making new memories. I’m pretty sure I’ll get plenty more opportunities to whip out that checkbook.

“How would you like to meet my girlfriend, Mom?”

The words tripped off his tongue easily, but hit my ears like a jackhammer. He’s my 21-year-old, college-senior son. Okay, I know, that’s plenty old enough to have a serious girlfriend.  But I wasn’t ready to hear the word “girlfriend” spoken quite so easily. This wasn’t, after all, a high school prom date. This was college: two consenting college seniors living hours from home in two beautiful townhouses with summer jobs and money to spare. This was practically adulthood.

I wasn’t ready.

I know. You’re judging me already. To be fair to this middle-aged, not-quite-ready mom, he had dropped the bombshell a bit too casually, and waited until I drank two glasses of wine at a family wedding just a few miles from his college in Washington D.C.  I had finagled an invitation for him to be my “plus one” at the wedding because my husband couldn’t make it, and had been hoping  to snag some quality moments.

And now, here was this interloper, whom he was planning to bring to the post-wedding breakfast the next morning, to meet me along with the rest of my family.

Why didn’t I know about her sooner?  Why hadn’t either of my other two children told me about her? I was feeling very betrayed and out of the loop.

“Of course, I’d love to meet her,” I lied.

I couldn’t figure out whether to take solace in what he said next: “And by the way, Mom, when you meet her tomorrow, please act as though you’ve known about her a long time.”

“How long?” I wondered, but didn’t ask.

That would have to wait until I got home, when I could grill my daughter to find out exactly how long was a long time. (A year, I later discovered.)

In the meantime, at least he wanted to introduce me at all.  Mothers have to take comfort in such things. Meeting the girlfriend is never easy, when our sons are everything and we want to make sure they are everything to someone else as well. As I waited for her to arrive, I realized:  It can’t be much easier for her.

“Just don’t hurt him,” I wanted to say as I extended my hand across the breakfast table and introduced myself.

“I am so glad to finally meet you,” I said instead, a broad smile on my face. And this time, I wasn’t lying.

This past weekend we completed a ritual for the 12^th—and last—time: the college move-in. Like many parents, we have the process down to a routine:   Hit Bed, Bath and Beyond for the essentials that disappeared since the move out last spring. Buy $300 worth of “toiletries” at CVS. ($10 shampoo is apparently a necessity)   Start a stockpile of stuff in the middle of the living room floor. Pull out clothes from drawers and closets and dump them on the bed to sort through.  Cram everything into plastic boxes, suitcases and black garbage bags.  Pack up the car so Dad can’t see out the back window. Drive to campus (student snoozes in the back seat) and drag the stuff up five flights in 95-degree heat.

Of course, there are variations. Daughters need to go clothes shopping; sons discover at the last minute that they misplaced necessary items. (One of my sons “lost” a chest of drawers between freshmen and sophomore year.) Sometimes kids move off campus to what you consider a slum and they consider a great deal.  You keep your mouth shut and buy a new mattress so at least they’ll be no bed bugs coming home in the spring.  Some parents opt out of the move-in completely by giving the child a car to keep at school.

My daughter goes to a school with a unique tradition:  Seniors move back on campus after a required junior year off campus.  The attraction: Senior-only, apartment-style housing just yards from the football stadium, the parties, and, oh yes, their classes. So, we prepared for the usual routine.

For weeks I was nervously anticipated move-in day.  Twelve years of college was ending with this academic year.  My husband and I enjoyed the experience almost as much as our three children did.   We went to football and lacrosse games, plays and concerts, parents’ weekends, and just for visits where we took roommates out to dinner and explored the surrounding areas.  The closing of that chapter of our lives is bittersweet.  Yes, it’s nice to not be paying tuition anymore after the final payment in December.  But as long as I had a child in college I felt like a (young) hands-on parent.  Graduation changes that. Graduation means your children are supposed to be fully independent and making their own way in the world, navigating with minimal help from mom and dad.  Of course, as this blog has detailed many times, that independence does not come so easily to emerging adults in a recession.

Many college seniors are not wildly anticipating graduation either.  All summer long my daughter cringed as people repeated, “Oh, your last year!”   In a store in late August, we met a friend who had graduated in 2010.  She told my daughter, “You’re so lucky.  I wish I was still in college.” When we took my daughter and four friends to dinner Saturday night, they all echoed the same sentiment: “Let’s not talk about graduation.”

That’s not a lot a parent can say to that.  I simply reminded my daughter that she has nine months to enjoy the experience, and repeated one of my favorite sayings, “Value the passing time.”

As we left campus the morning after the move-in, I had anticipated I would be distraught. But the tears held back as I watched my daughter head off to a football game with her friends; I knew that this is where she was supposed to be, savoring this fleeting time in her life. (And I was heading home to a neat house and control of the remote!)

When I got home there in the mail was an announcement from my daughter’s school about “Commencement 2012″  with the reminder to book a hotel room as soon as possible.  So much for valuing the passing time!

Grandmother's Garden by Sarah Davis

Grandmother: The word evokes images of a sweet, gray-haired granny sitting in a rocking chair. Many of us baby boomers recall our own grandmothers exactly like that:  My mom’s mother was the Hallmark Card variety, always ready with a bag of toys and a box of  cookies when we visited.  But while my dad’s mother was gray haired indeed, a hard-working Irish immigrant, she was still chopping backyard bushes by hand at age 70.

What about Baby Boomers as grandparents?  Not too many gray-haired nannas in our circles. So how does the generation that invented helicopter parenting take to grand parenting?  A fascinating, and alternatingly loving and blunt answer, is offered by 27 well-known women writers in “ Eye of My Heart.”

The idea for the book came from author Barbara Graham who wondered about the “cultural cliché of grandmothers as adorable and adoring creatures, as devoted and doting as puppies.”  In search of real-life stories, she asked noted women writers to explore the emotional angst and joys of grand parenting.

For the most part, the book is unsentimental, pulling back a curtain to tell the sometimes harsh truth about their relations with their adult children and their offspring.  Many of the writers found that while they passionately love their grandchildren, their own adult children are often roadblocks to the full expression of that love. So what is the role of grandparents?  What is their place in the family dynamic? “Reviving Ophelia” author Mary Pipher offers:

“I am not the same person as a grandparent that I was as a parent.  I have different roles, different responsibilities, and a different perspective….My job is simply to love those kids for who they are.”

The essays reflect how family life has changed over the decades.  Now grandparents often live at a distance, and even with Skype grandchildren don’t automatically cuddle during twice-a-year visits.  Many grandparents work and have their own busy lives so they’re not  in the kitchen baking cookies (especially not for this new hyper-healthy generation of grandkids). Journalist Rona Maynard considers new ways to define grandma and offers the “Pilates grandma,” the “gourmet grandma,” “the subversive grandma,” the “truth-telling grandma,” and the “Facebook Grandma.”

The biggest struggle is the switch of gears: a generation of hands-on parents find difficulty in not offering advice on everything from nursing to manners.   That’s a difficult realization for brand-new grandparents: This is not parenting the second-time-around.  Many of the essays focus on that dilemma. Author Anne Roiphe has learned not to offer advice:

“Not speaking your mind is the number one commandment for would-be beloved grandparents.”

Some of the essays about estranged grandparents are heart-breaking and serve as cautionary tales.  Others are loving, and among the most heartwarming was an essay by Ms. Magazine founding editor Letty Cottin Pogrebin whose six grandchildren live in Manhattan as she does.  She and her husband delight in planning outings—some for a few hours, others for the weekend–with their grandchildren “to create the kind of fun that leaves lifelong memories.”

She also confronts the harsh reality that as our grandchildren age so do we.  Someday we will be sitting in those rocking chairs because the knees finally gave out.  And what then?  Ms. Pogrebin writes,

Only by growing old can we witness our grandchildren growing older.  It’s an existential  trade-off.  We lose years, they gain them.  Someday I will be addled or decrepit and unable to organize adventures.  But at that point it won’t matter.  If all goes well, my grandchildren will be too busy making memories of their own.  And every now and then, in the midst of some perfect pleasure, maybe they will smile at their kids and say, “You know, this reminds me of something I used to do with my grandma.”

It’s a familiar scenario: a name starts popping up in talks and texts with your adult son or daughter.  A romance is brewing!  One day you meet the beloved person and while you are happy for your child something is not quite right.  Times passes and the uneasy feelings remain.  It’s not that you don’t like the boyfriend or girlfriend. Rather there seems to be a mismatch: in personality, emotional attachment, life experience, careers, expectations, behavior, or any number of different traits.

What do you do?  You can wait it out and hope that your son or daughter discovers  the incompatibility.  What if your daughter comes home with Brides magazine or your son starts asking about diamonds? What do you say then?  Suppose your 25-year-old daughter is madly in love with a creative type who can’t find a job. That 25-year-old related her sad tale in a “An Oral History of Breaking Up,” a New York Times article about why young people divorce.  Her marriage lasted a year.  Perhaps her mom should have suggested her daughter check out one of the many websites on questions to ask before committing to  marriage.   

In search of advice we turned, again, to the very wise and witty Dr. Ruth Nemzoff, author of “Don’t Bite Your Tongue.” She has  encountered many such situations in her work and writes about them in her book. We chatted on the phone last week.

Q. If parents believe that their adult child is considering a match not made in heaven, should they say anything?

A. Yes, if it’s before marriage and you feel it’s a bad match then you have an obligation to say something.  Once married though you have an obligation to love this person your child chooses and to not say anything else.  First you need to examine exactly why do you not like this person.  Is the reason because no one is good enough for your child?

Q. How do you approach the topic with your adult child?

A. You don’t want to start head on.  You want to talk about an observation such as, “I notice when Jeff  is around you’re very quiet” or “I notice you no longer go out with friends.” You need be very specific in how you phrase that observation.

Q. Suppose it’s not so much your child changing but rather a negative trait you see in the boyfriend or girlfriend?

A. Another way is to try to find an example of the same trait in a book or a movie. Get the book, read it and then mention to your daughter that you just read a book about a man, for example,  who was a “taker,” someone never gives back, just takes and takes what he needs in a relationship. You’ll plant the idea if that’s the situation.  Or watch a movie together and make an observation about a character.  I call that simulcasting: watching a movie  with your child and getting a message across through your comments on the characters in the movie.

Q. Suppose you suspect that your child shares your concerns but hasn’t voiced them.

A. Start a conversation with your child, saying that you notice she is spending a lot of time with so-and-so. Ask what she likes about him.  Then mention your concerns and ask if she noticed that too. Keep in mind the child may storm out of the room. These conversations don’t always go smoothly but it’s not end of the world, and not the first time or the last time that’ll happen.

Q. When is the best time to have this conversation?

A. The timing is when you begin to feel relationship is getting serious but even then be careful not to cast aspersions.  That person may become your daughter-in-law and be choosing your nursing home someday!   Also keep in mind you never know about people. There are relationships that friends and relatives predicted would fail that are now celebrating anniversaries.

At the local card store on Saturday, the crowd was three deep as customers choose Valentine cards for loved ones from granny to the dog.  In the section filled with cards “To Mom,” most of the shoppers were under-13. Not too many 20-somethings looking in the parents section, even on a holiday that generates $16 billion in sales.

While we don’t expect Valentine cards from our adult children (although dark chocolate is always welcome), that doesn’t mean that we wouldn’t like to occasionally hear those three magic words: “I love you.” Not a tossed off “love you” or a “xoxo” in a text, but a heartfelt, sincere declaration.

Of course, in some homes, “I love you” is spoken like a daily prayer.  In others, love is expressed through actions—from helping each other to gifts—rather than words.

So what’s the big deal?  Don’t we know our children love us? After all, they come to visit (or move back in), call us, join us at restaurants (and even pay sometimes), and bestow birthday and holiday gifts.  Why do we need to hear those words?  And what about the flip side: Do they need really to hear those words from us?  Haven’t we shown them love in innumerable ways, starting with midnight feedings (bottles) to midnight feedings now (food in the fridge or the grandbaby)?  Don’t actions speak louder than words?

Yet, we all like to hear those magic words.  To find out why—and how to say them—we consulted a love guru, Dr. Diana Kirschner, a New York psychologist and author of  “Sealing the Deal: The Love Mentor’s Guide to Lasting Love.”  In a recent Wall Street Journal article she explained how to express affection to friends at work too.

We chatted with Dr. Kirschner last week:

Q. Why do many of our adult children find it hard to say “I love you, mom”?

A. Adult children are very wary of regressing and acting like your little child again.  They want respect and equality.  Also they may not realize that you want to hear them express their love.

Q. Does texting count?

A. With texting you don’t get the full experience because you’re not physically present and you need someone’s presence and full attention for your brain to release oxytocin, the bonding hormone.

Q. So how do you get them to say those words?

A. No one can read your mind so you have to use positive shaping talk. People need to be taught how to express love and it doesn’t matter whether it’s your adult child or a romantic partner.   You need to say “I would really love it if you told me that you loved me.  That would make me so happy” or “I would really love it if you told me…” and then insert what you want to hear.

Q. What’s the best way to verbalize your affection to your adult child?

A. Don’t pinch their cheek!  You don’t want to infantilize them.  What you do is preface the “I love you” with a compliment such as “I admire you because …” Or “I respect you so much because…”   and then add “I love you” to get that message across. You don’t have to do it that often; just when the time feels right.

Q. Why is it important to express our love to our adult children?  Don’t they know that?

A. The child may not understand how deep your feelings are.  You never know what can happen as we get older with health issues and just the uncertainty of life. And, expressing love uplifts your mood and is good for your physical health too.

And if it’s still hard, send an e-card today!

A text message from my daughter, who is spending a semester abroad: “Paris is GREAT but the hostel is so grungy.”

The next text: “Okay, grungy was an understatement.”

On her first solo travels on the cheap, my daughter is getting out of her comfort zone, ­in this case the Marriott.  And that’s a good thing.

Many baby boomer kids, like my daughter,  were raised in a permanent comfort zone.  Our first instinct as parents is to keep them securely nestled inside for as long as we can afford it.  Yet, as noted in last week’s interview with a tough-love author, learning to deal with adversity is critical for our children to navigate the road to adulthood.

In chatting with some friends at the gym and at the hair dresser (for some reason we tend to be more talkative dripping sweat or hair coloring) we agreed that a “hands-off” approach  is necessary…but  hard!  Perhaps it’s the knowledge that adversity is a lifelong companion that makes us yearn to smooth out the rough edges when we can. And, frankly, it’s often easier to hand over a solution than to hear the whining.

But sometimes we do manage to do the right thing and let the kids figure it out for themselves.

One mother told us told about her commuter-college son who’s on a three-month internship working at a resort.  He called to complain that to get to the internship from his housing he must take a bus that gets him there either an hour early or ten minutes late. At home, he had a car at his disposal so he had never relied on public transportation.

“I told him then he’d have to be an hour early, not the answer he wanted to hear,” said the mom.  So much for the old comfort zone.   The mom admitted it was emotionally difficult to see him struggling to live on his own for the first time.  Indeed she had decided to back off and not call him for a few days.  “But it’s hard,” she said. “My impulse is to step in and solve the problem for him.”

So the hostel is grungy or the bus gets to work an hour early, relatively  minor inconveniences in the scheme of all that can happen in life.  Still “deal with it!” is not what our kids are used to hearing.

But, in a subtle way, that was exactly the message a friend at the gym gave to her oldest son, working his first job, paying rent on an apartment in the city, and struggling to make ends meet.  The mom admitted it would easy to send him $50 or so a month to help close the gap.  But she said that would also be sending him  the message that she didn’t have confidence in his ability to figure out a solution.

And indeed he did: no more lunches out.  “I closed my budget gap,” he told her proudly.  “I bought a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter and now I bring my lunch!”

Mon Dieu, just how bad was that Parisian hostel.  I suppressed my knee-jerk need-to-know and the instant impulse to whip out my Amex card. Sometimes stepping back and not jumping in to problem-solve is the best way to help.

Good parents give their children roots and wings. Roots to know where home is, wings to fly away and exercise what’s been taught them. — Jonas Salk

 When my first child was born a friend gave me a framed print with an inscription based on the Salk quote: Give your children roots and wings. 

 Now three decades later, I realize that giving them roots was the easy part.  Letting go—giving them wings to fly away—seems considerably more difficult.  Many of us baby boomer parents find it hard to completely let go.  Indeed that was the inspiration for mothering 21.com: Parenting never ends but obviously you have to stop holding their hands at some point. Separation issues are nothing new; remember nursery school? Yet some of us still struggle with letting our adult children lead fully independent lives, without our constant advice, opinions and suggestions!

 Some insights were offered in a recent blog post with an academic title, “Parenting after the adolescent becomes adult.”  Dr. Carl Pickhardt, who wrote the post, has impressive credentials.  He is the author of 13  books on parenting and the father of four adult children.  Dr. Pickhardt’s advice on how parents can fully separate from their adult children is not sugar-coated: 

No matter how grown up, how much older they become, these adult offspring forever remain your children just as you forever remain their parent. And the relationship is always challenging because, like the rest of life, parenting demands constant change and accommodation.

 What makes this accommodation hard for parents are several adjustments they must make: to tolerance, to reversal, and to demotion.

Tolerance? Reversal? Demotion?  That felt like a slap in the face with the admonition: Snap out of it parent! What was Dr. Pickhardt thinking?  We phoned him in Austin, Texas where he has a private practice that includes adult children and their parents, and chatted for an hour.  He was empathetic and reassuring.  His message: Parents need to let their adult children assert their independence and to love and accept them as individuals, not as mini-me!

Letting go doesn’t mean that our adult children no longer need us. Parents need to remember their “primal role,” Dr. Pickhardt said.   Just as a little child wants to share every accomplishment, most adult children crave parental attention and approval.  As he wrote in his blog post:

So when parents continue their roles as emotional supporter, as rapt audience, and as tireless cheerleader, what they have to offer their adult children never goes out of style, never loses lasting value.

That makes the separation sound  less depressing.  Still, the words—tolerance, reversal, demotion—needed some explanation and Dr. Pickhardt kindly obliged with so many excellent insights that the post will be in two parts: this week and next.

Why tolerance, reversal and demotion?  Sounds like I just got downsized from my parenting job.

The hardest art of parenting is letting, especially when you worked so hard and invested so much.  Those adjustments of tolerance, reversal and demotion are the different ways parents have to let go to be able to embrace their adult child and accept their independence. 

Let’s start with tolerance.  You make a frightening analogy:  Just as we baby boomers must learn to be tolerant of our own aging parents, our adult children must become tolerant of us.  Are we really that difficult?

 Of course we never think that we can be difficult.  If something is the matter, we believe that we’re okay and the other person is not.  The adult child needs to accept the idea that “I am not going to change my parent and my parent is not going to change me.”  The parent needs to accept that too. For example, a parent may need to accept  that “My adult child has always argued with me, will continue to argue and will probably never not argue.”

 Accepting your child’s argumentative personality is one thing, but what about other choices: work, lifestyle, partner, religious differences, goals in life?

Parents need to let adult children makes their own decisions and accept those decisions. Tolerance means acceptance and the opposite of acceptance is rejection, and that does relationship between parent and adult child no favors. The goal is to learn to love the differences and to see you adult child as a whole person.  As the poet Rainer Maria Rilke put it:  “to see the other whole against the sky.”

To be continued next week…