Will Our Kids Have a Better Life in the Suburbs Than In Brooklyn?

Q

Since having our second kid, living in brooklyn has become so expensive and cramped, but we have so many friends here, I love the access to arts and culture and everything city life brings. My wife wants to move either to where my parents live or where her parents live (both are suburbs in the midwest) so we can have childcare help, cos all our parents are retired. also she wants to buy a house that is big enough for them to have separate bedrooms, in a neighborhood where kids play on the street.

I understand this financially because we don’t have much savings at this point due to COL, but it breaks my heart to think about taking our kids away from all this culture and from all of our friends, and their friends, to places I’m frankly not wild about, that will have less queer people than Brooklyn, which is so queer-normative. But maybe I’m just holding onto my youth. Thoughts on leaving the city for the suburbs? recently disclosed to my best friend that I watch straight porn and she was massively icked out and now I feel gross and sad. We were having an intimate conversation about porn preferences and I told her something I’ve never told anyone else: that even though I’m a lesbian I watch and get off to stereotypical straight porn sometimes that has certain power dynamics. She literally recoiled and then tried to insinuate this is like rooted in trauma or something fucked up from my past, that it’s not normal for lesbians to watch only straight porn. I felt judged and insecure and tried to walk it back. I feel like she’s questioning my lesbianism. We became best friends in the first place because we were the first lesbians each other knew. It’s why I felt safe telling her.

A:

Valerie: Is there a way you could compromise, if you’re not willing to move to the midwest? Move to a suburb just outside the city, close enough for easy day trips and visiting friends, but not as expensive or close quarters as Brooklyn? I know that wouldn’t bring you closer to your parents, but it might check the rest of your boxes. I’ve lived in NYC for the past 15+ years and I can’t imagine moving too far away from it. I know the temptation of moving close to free childcare is real, and having your kids be able to spend more time with their grandparents, but if YOU are going to be miserable there, that won’t be good for you, your relationship, or the kids. There has to be a better solution where you can all be happy.

Summer: Thinking about uprooting is never easy. I know you don’t want to leave the queer arts and culture scene in Brooklyn. It’s reasonable to feel that. But how does the financial stress and childcare stress weigh against the quality-of-life for you and your family? Your kids won’t be permanently exposed to arts and culture while they’re in Brooklyn. Especially in their earliest years. But they will be exposed to their parents’ financial and interpersonal stress the whole time. And the cramped space is equally permanent. Brooklyn arts and culture is something that only starts paying off for your children in the long-to-lifetime run. Improved childcare, space, and less stressed parents are relevant every single day of their lives.

That’s not to exclude the possibility that you’ll be more stressed if you move away. Moving is one of the most stressful activities people regularly undertake. And it’s always a compromise between a fixed reality and a potential future. This decision is too big for me to call for either side. But I think it’d be helpful to consider what a successful move could do for your family’s collective well-being, not just what you’re losing by leaving Brooklyn.

Ashni: As a Brooklyn resident, I gotta say, I’m firmly on your side. I love living in Brooklyn. Everyone is gay when I walk down the street! Yesterday, I saw an ad looking for polycules to be interviewed for a documentary. But the high cost of living is real, and it’s only getting worse (fingers crossed Mamdani can help us). I really think y’all should weigh the things you’d gain from moving to the Midwest ‘burbs (free childcare, lower cost of living) against the things you’d lose (the Brooklyn Public Library, Prospect Park, The Lesbian Herstory Archives, art galleries, and most importantly, the community that you’ve built). To Valerie’s point, is there a way that you can have most of the things you’re looking for? There are pockets of the Hudson Valley and North Jersey that are fairly accessible by train, that would give you access to all the things in the city that you care about, but where you might be able to find a home with a little more room. Also, the Hudson Valley is gay and artsy as hell. I feel like it’s every other city dyke’s dream to buy a fixer-upper upstate. If you’d rather stay a city resident, there must be pockets of other boroughs where you could find slightly more room for what you’re paying? I don’t see a way out of the free childcare, unfortunately, but I do know that some gyms offer free childcare for like, an hour or two, and maybe being out of the city will give you cheaper childcare options.

Sa’iyda: As a fellow parent (and a native New Yorker), I get both sides of this dilemma! It’s very hard to want to leave NYC for all of the reasons you mentioned. It’s a great place culturally to raise a kid and be a queer family. But holy shit is it expensive! I left NYC in 2017 because it was getting wildly out of my price range (granted I moved to LA, but I digress.) There are so many times I miss New York, but the main reason? Access to free childcare.

Being a parent is very expensive! I don’t know how old your kids are, but I know daycare is extremely expensive and eats up most families’ budgets. And babysitters are also incredibly expensive. So even a date night will cost you hundreds of dollars for a few hours of fun. It’s really upsetting.

I don’t know where in the Midwest your families live, but pretty much every major city has culture. Tours of Broadway shows go almost everywhere nowadays, and will be much cheaper than seeing the show in NYC with the same caliber of talent. There are museums and botanical gardens and zoos and historical sites all over. And there are queer parents everywhere too. They may take a little more time to find, but I promise they’re there. I think if moving will improve the quality of life for your kids (and access to their grandparents if you have good relationships with your parents is definitely a bonus), you should seriously consider it. Also, did I mention how expensive childcare is?

Nico: I know you’re thinking of your parents as support, but what about the support — emotional and otherwise — that you receive from your friends, that and all the other benefits of being near your queer buds. As others have pointed out, you need to deeply consider whether a move to the midwest will affect your happiness and well-being such that it affects not just you, but your kids, your partnership, everything. There’s more to life than a bigger house, and plenty of people were raised sharing bedrooms and turned out no more or less fine than those who had their own.

And you’re right that you’re currently in a queer-normative spot, and even moving a little further outside of the city would still keep you within a pretty queer-friendly radius. It’s not going to be that way in the midwest, so something I think you should also really consider is what life would be like for your kids growing up with queer parents in a more conservative area with fewer fellow queer people and queer parents around. Is there a chance that they won’t feel as comfortable or as welcome? How does that measure up against “playing in the street”? You don’t say how old your kids are, but, another thing to consider is whether any of your kids are queer or trans or might be. If you think that might be the case, to be honest, with the disparity in access to care and services — and the downright persecution of parents of queer/trans kids in some areas — it might be better to stay put in New York State.

With all this, there are schools to consider, too. Your or your wife’s parents could live in an amazing school district — I don’t have access to this info — but it might also be a school district where, like all schools in Iowa for example, teachers aren’t allowed to teach “divisive concepts.” In New York, you’ve got access to magnet schools, charter schools, a whole bunch of options to explore when it comes to educating your kids. I know it’s not an easy decision to make, and that childcare is super expensive, but there are more benefits to living where you are than just the culture and the general queerness — it’s also safety, and education, and considering what supports will and won’t be there for you and your family in the future, depending on where you live. And on the other hand, you have free childcare to consider, possibly a bigger living space, things like that. It’s a lot to process, but I hope presenting some of these things gives you some aspects to consider and research as you two discuss your options.

Riese: It’s hard to generalize about the midwest because it’s such a mixed bag — I grew up in a midwestern college town (Ann Arbor, Michigan) that is as homogeneously liberal as New York City, and there are plenty more towns like it (Columbus! Madison! Urbana! Bloomington! Iowa City!). Most midwestern cities big enough to have suburbs are liberal areas, from Des Moines to Chicago. There will be culture and there will be queer people. But of course, not as many queer people as there are in Brooklyn, and there won’t be as many of the same types of queers you’ll find in someplace like NYC. BUT you will find a lot of transplants like yourself. I have friends who moved to a liberal part of Alabama to be closer to family for childcare help, and they did eventually find queer friends and community, and are very happy there. On the flipside, in the classic Netflix series The Hunting Wives, Sophie moved to rural Texas and then got all mixed up with murder and mayhem.

Butttt you did say you’re “not wild about” either of the places where you have family, which makes me feel like you should stay in Brooklyn or find a place near where your families live that you *are* wild about. Even being a few hours away could enable you to have some help with childcare without being in an area where you can’t find community or schools that reflect your values.

My Partner Has Financial Know-How, and I Have Financial Trauma

Q

My partner (we’re both in our late 20s) is always talking about things like retirement plans and CDs (not the music kind, it turns out!!!!!) and other financial shit that she seemingly knows a lot about and thinks I should know a lot about, but I don’t! My financial knowledge is not great. My parents were often in debt when I was growing up, and I have a lot of trauma around talking about money in the ways my partner talks about it, especially because I have sort of just always gone through life assuming retirement funds were for people who are not me. I’m responsible. I pay my bills. But I’ve mostly lived paycheck to paycheck in a way my partner doesn’t understand. We’ve been together about four years now and I can see us getting married, at which point I suppose our finances will be more entangled so I do want to make sure I’m not dragging her down with me, but are there actually accessible ways to learn about these things? Every time I ask my partner questions I feel like she’s judging me and it just turns into an argument usually.

A

Summer: Hey OP. Listen, if you’ve been together for that long and things are still moving forward, you’re not a burden. No relationship has truly identical financial backgrounds and experience unless like what, they’re identical twins? Ew.

I’d normally write stuff about how you can approach the topic with her to pick up more financial literacy, or how to learn from other resources but… What does concern me is that discussing it with her leads to an argument. It’s never a good sign if a relationship can’t achieve consensus on finances. Managing resources and labour (financially) are as critical to a relationship’s future as any other aspect. It quite literally gives you food, shelter, and health.

And while there are good ways to learn about financial management as a late bloomer, that won’t address how unfair it is for you to feel belittled when the topic comes up with your girlfriend. You can address the financial side of this situation, but I fear that it’s not sustainable or good for you to always cater to her when she treats you that way.

Ashni: Yes, there are accessible ways to learn about these things! You might be living paycheck to paycheck now, but it’s entirely possible that you won’t be forever, and building financial knowledge now will help you longer-term. I read Ramit Sethi’s “I Will Teach You To Be Rich” last year which I don’t … want to recommend because I remember parts of it rubbed me the wrong way, but it was a really accessible way to learn more about finances. If you’re not already on the credit card train / building your credit, that’s another thing to look into if you can. Summer’s Reddit recs are great, I’ve leaned on r/PersonalFinance myself. I do agree, though, that your partner judging you for questions and having conversations turn into arguments when you’re just trying to learn more is… not great.

Em: Money is a charged subject, but I feel like the social stigma around talking about it is one of the biggest structural forces that keeps money unequally distributed in our society. You’re fighting the good fight by taking this on, opening up and having the conversation!! There is no shame in having different levels of financial literacy, the world and the system is literally set up to have it that way. The fact you are pre-empting that it might be a knowledge gap that could cause friction for you and your partner, is super thoughtful and smart from my point of view. Practicality and pragmatic thought like this is its own kind of romance!

Already seems like you are getting more comfortable being vulnerable and engaging with that money-panic from your past experiences – have you opened up to your partner about this? Perhaps if you give her the context she will be better equipped to reassure you and to intentionally create a judgement-free space as you share knowledge and make financial plans together. In partnership it’s a constant exchange of strengths and weaknesses, and so it’s ok to be supported and be the one “learning” in this domain. I’m sure there are other areas where you bring expertise and pull ahead.

Nico: Why is it becoming an argument when you aren’t very financially entangled, yet? I think that your partner needs to be able to engage with you about things you don’t know as much about with a kind and understanding approach. You have said yourself that you have different backgrounds. As someone who comes from a family where we were often strapped (and my dad has described our circumstances in my early years as “dirt poor”), it is so incredibly jarring to deal with people who have always had a much greater sense of stability. I want to push back at the thought in your mind that you’re “dragging her down” with you. You said that you pay your bills. You’ve managed in the ways you know how. Not everyone has a retirement plan. You can get one when you’re able, but not everyone has the opportunity until later in life, and some people never have the opportunity at all. Honestly, it’s a bad system and no one should need to fear for survival in their old age, but here we are. You are not bad or wrong for working hard your whole life and only being able to just live paycheck to paycheck. Most people are in this situation. Your partner should not be making you feel bad about any of this, and I think that is a conversation in and of itself.

Now, with what you’re talking about, I think your first project is simply some more financial literacy. This should not cost you a thing if you make use of a library or other free source for books. Here is a list on Reddit of financial resources to get your started. Once you know more about the jargon involved, it’s going to be so much easier to make informed and confident choices. Move steadily, but at your own pace. And if your partner can’t discuss finances with you reasonably and calmly, I want to encourage you to consider that a marriage is also a financial arrangement, and that many relationships can suffer from financial disagreements. I suggest that if you are determined to make things work and these problems continue, that you seek couples counseling. Wishing you tons of luck on your journey towards knowing more! (About made up things!)

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I love talking about birth order. I love being able to guess if someone is a middle or a youngest, if they’re the eldest daughter or just the eldest child — it’s fascinating. Stereotypes about birth order are stereotypes for a reason, and some have been grounded in truth for so long, it just feels like a given that all middle children are a little sensitive. (As a middle child, I’m allowed to say that.)

But if there’s one birth order stereotype I wonder about the most, it’s the eldest daughter trope. I have three daughters, and while I assumed most eldest daughters of the family are bred that way by Type-A moms, it seems my own eldest daughter — who is most definitely not being raised by a Type-A mom — has already taken on some of the classic characteristics.

Like when she sees me attempting a DIY project and asks for my phone so she can prepare to dial 911. Or when she says “be careful” more to the toddler than I do. Or when we were at a neighbor’s party once and her little sister was hiding and she burst into tears because she thought she’d lost her own sister and she had potentially been kidnapped and it was all her fault.

But can I stop my eldest daughter from being an eldest daughter?

“The eldest daughter stereotype is the confluence of age and gender expectations,” says licensed psychotherapist Ciara Bogdanovic, owner and founder at Sagebrush Psychotherapy. “It is a result of cultural expectations of women as natural caretakers and homemakers. Even when she’s not literally the first child, the eldest girl often gets cast as the reliable one, the helper, the organizer, the second parent. Families rarely assign these roles to eldest sons in the same way. That’s less about biology and more about how society conditions girls to take responsibility and nurture.”

I love talking about birth order. I love being able to guess if someone is a middle or a youngest, if they’re the eldest daughter or just the eldest child — it’s fascinating. Stereotypes about birth order are stereotypes for a reason, and some have been grounded in truth for so long that it just feels like a given that all middle children are a little sensitive. (As a middle child, I’m allowed to say that.)

But if there’s one birth order stereotype I wonder about the most, it’s the eldest daughter trope. I have three daughters, and while I assumed most eldest daughters of the family are bred that way by Type-A moms, it seems my own eldest daughter — who is most definitely not being raised by a Type-A mom — has already taken on some of the classic characteristics.

Like when she sees me attempting a DIY project and asks for my phone so she can prepare to dial 911. Or when she says “be careful” more to the toddler than I do. Or when we were at a neighbor’s party once and her little sister was hiding, and she burst into tears because she thought she’d lost her own sister and she had potentially been kidnapped and it was all her fault.

But can I stop my eldest daughter from being an eldest daughter?

“The eldest daughter stereotype is the confluence of age and gender expectations,” says licensed psychotherapist Ciara Bogdanovic, owner and founder at Sagebrush Psychotherapy. “It is a result of cultural expectations of women as natural caretakers and homemakers. Even when she’s not literally the first child, the eldest girl often gets cast as the reliable one, the helper, the organizer, the second parent. Families rarely assign these roles to eldest sons in the same way. That’s less about biology and more about how society conditions girls to take responsibility and nurture.”

So yeah, fam. This one’s on us.

Bogdanovic says that if you want to prevent your own eldest daughter from feeling the pressure (yes, I’m listening), then we have to observe our own assumptions and biases. “Ask yourself if you’re treating your eldest daughter different than your other children, and if you’re placing expectations on her that outweigh the responsibilities placed on your other children.” She says you should also make sure not to delegate adult responsibilities to your eldest daughter because you expect her to be capable and the leader of her siblings.

Now, obviously, an eldest child is going to have more responsibilities than a younger child, but Bogdanovic says you need to then just assign age-appropriate and equal chores and responsibilities to all of your children. “Seek caretaking and household support from other adults in your life, like family members, neighbors, teachers, and babysitters, rather than leaning on your eldest daughter. Recognize that she is living her one and only childhood and honor that.”

(For the record, I did not ask her to keep an eye on her sister at that neighbor’s party. She just assumed she had to… which might be my fault.)

And if you find that you have an eldest daughter who seems naturally inclined to be a leader and take charge, there’s a way to foster that without giving too much pressure. “Leadership is an incredible skill worth nurturing, but not capitalizing on,” says Bogdanovic. “Leadership does not mean self-sacrifice. Observe what brings your daughter joy and what causes frustration and resistance. That gives clues to whether she is leading from passion or pressure.”

She also emphasizes that a valuable lesson when it comes to being a leader is ensuring your daughter knows she doesn’t have to put others’ needs above her own. You should also check in often on what she needs and listen to her concerns.

“She doesn’t need to carry everyone’s burdens and ‘hold it all together.’ Teach your other children to take care of their own needs as well, so it does not all land on one person to carry the burden,” Bogdanovic adds. “Validate her choices and desires and don’t override her desires for the desires of your other children.”

Sometimes being the big sibling means feeling like you have to give up certain things for the good of the family, but honoring that narrative by making it equal across the board — like younger siblings not being allowed to do something they want if it interferes with your eldest daughter’s schedule in a negative way, etc. — can help create a family dynamic where nobody feels burdened or left out and everybody knows to pitch in equally.

We may not be able to stop our eldest daughters from feeling like the leaders of the family or from their natural take-charge attitudes, but we can help foster their light so it never feels like it’s burning out.

They, 100%, are still going to act like you don’t know how to take care of their little siblings when they leave for college, though.

Why Does It Feel So Different When It’s Chosen Family?

Q.

My wife and I have a weekend trip planned — our first since the birth of our adorable daughter! We’re friends with a couple who adore our daughter and have often watched her for short periods of time, who we call Aunt and Uncle,  and who said they’d be more than happy to watch her while we’re on our trip. But my wife is very uncomfortable with the idea of not paying them to do so. They have not asked for payment at all, but I don’t know what proper etiquette is here.  I’m not sure how I feel about it. 

On the one hand, they both have jobs and are financially comfortable, own their own home (we do not), and we are less so, mainly due to our daughter. However, they are starting the IVF process themselves right now, which we know from experience is very expensive. If we did pay them, would it be what we’d pay a normal sitter? Because MY argument is that if we are planning to pay them as much as a regular sitter, I don’t think we can afford to take a trip at all!

I asked my wife if she would feel uncomfortable having a biological family member watch our child for free and she said no, I asked why it’s different with chosen family. She said she knows it is different, but honestly I cannot put my finger on it exactly and neither can she! Is it a quid pro quo situation? That my parents would watch my child for free, but likely also expect us to care for them in old age? Would it make a difference if they didn’t expect that of us? I feel as though that’s not a sensical angle because there’s no way any amount of caretaking I do for my parents in the future would outweigh the time they spent actually raising me!  Is it because our daughter is my parents’ actual grandchild, a bond that remains for life, whereas it’s possible our child’s chosen Aunt and Uncle might not remain in their life forever, if they move or we move or something like that? Is it the exclusivity? That we can’t all extend free favors to everyone in the world, thus we tend to limit that dynamic to officially “familial” connections? That’s what family does for family? OR another thought, if they do succeed and have a child themselves, I can see us offering to babysit the other one’s kids a lot in the future, so in that case, it will all even out in the end?

Now that I’ve turned this advice question into an existential thoughtstarter —any thoughts? (And thank you, by the way, for everything you do at Autostraddle!)

A:

Summer: <3

I won’t go into the social side of why your girlfriend finds it okay to place childcare on biological relatives but not chosen relatives. That’s not my area. My area is compensation and fairness, because my brain silly.

From the top, I think it’s okay to want to reciprocate their labour with compensation. Wanting reciprocation is the sign of a mind that believes in fairness. And childcare is costly in money and effort – I’m sure you’re aware of that already. But compensation doesn’t just have to be money. It can be a favour owed, even if it’s not of the same magnitude. It can be a thoughtful gift or three from your trip. Something hand-made. And if they’re offering to look after your kid, I’d consider it polite to offer them something in return. It’s their right to turn it down.

Were I in your shoes and if my partner were fine with the care, I’d definitely express to these loved ones that you want to pay them back ‘somehow’. Even if it’s not money, you can tell them that you’d feel dreadful if you didn’t do something in return. Even just buying them dinner, bringing a small gift back, or owing a favour. Reasonable and kind people will understand your desire and let you do something small in return to ‘settle’ the debt entirely.

Valerie: I think a weekend is much different than watching her for a few hours while you go to dinner, and you do have to offer some kind of compensation, even if they refuse. I do agree with Summer that it doesn’t necessarily have to be financial. Regardless of their financial situation (which you can’t know just from knowing they have jobs and own a home), everyone’s time is valuable, and that should be acknowledged in some way. If you can offer them some money, that is an option, and I don’t think it has to be the kind of hourly rate you’d pay a stranger; it also does feel a little impersonal for friends who your kid call Auntie and Uncle. That feels more like something you would do for a less close friend, or if you had to ask them to watch your kid very last minute for some reason. Like Summer said, taking them out to dinner, letting it be clear that you know you owe them a favor, bringing them something back etc, are great options. And frankly, I think you should feel the same way about biological family. Of course, oftentimes grandparents are often clamoring for more time with their grandchild whether or not you need the childcare, so it probably feels different, but their time is valuable, too – especially an entire weekend. It really depends on the person. Even if you say, “let us take you out for dinner to repay you” and they (your friends, OR your parents) refuse and insist it was their pleasure, offering at least acknowledges that you know that they did something for you that they had no obligation to do and that you appreciate them spending their precious time to help you. Honestly, even a hand-written thank you note could go a long way to say “this is not an expectation or obligation you fulfilled” and that you don’t take their assistance for granted.

Kayla: Hey, I think it’s never a bad idea to offer money when someone does you a solid —they can always refuse! It’s a different situation obviously, but my wife and I travel a lot and often tap a mix of bio family (my wife’s son) and chosen family (our closest friends who live nearby) to check in on our cat. It’s generally understood that when it’s just a couple dropbys, we’re not paying (we often leave a little custom gift basket for them though!) but if we’re heading out of town for longer, we’ll offer money. Sometimes they take us up on it. No one is really keeping track. We’ll reciprocate with housesitting/petsitting if they ever need. I think if you don’t want to offer actual payment, a really nice gift basket can go a long way. You just leave it on the counter for them so it’s a surprise when they arrive.

Nico: Luckily, it’s just a weekend trip. I think that if you were going away for longer, it would definitely be wise to budget more for childcare ahead of time — but it’s just the weekend! It’s also your first trip since your kid came, and I am sure your friends know that and are looking forward to helping you all get away. And it also is a whole weekend! I think you should offer an amount of money that you can afford or some other form of reciprocity. Other folks have mentioned offering to buy dinner or giving them a gift basket (you didn’t specify whether they were going to be staying at yours or watching your kid at theirs). I definitely agree that you should probably always bring something back from a trip for friends or family (bio or chosen) who watch kids or pets. With all that though, I know you’re on a tight budget. Are there labor-based exchanges you can offer? You could invite them over for dinner and cook a nice meal (or two) if that’s more affordable for you, or you can find a way to help them out in some other way.

How Do Butch/Masc People Like Being Complemented?

Q:

Hi! Here’s a granular, hopefully not-stressful question for you in these genuinely awful times. I am a femme who dates butches, mascs, studs, chapstick dykes … I historically date people who don’t wear makeup or skirts, who love femmes, and who enjoy the erotics of that contrast. I have given different partners different compliments, but I’m wondering, how do butches/studs/mascs reading this like to be complimented on their looks?? “Beautiful” feels sometimes good but often fraught or too feminine maybe? Am I overthinking this, as someone who wants my lovers to feel seen in their masculinity? “Handsome” makes me feel like a mom complimenting her 8-year-old son before church. Sexy and hot are good, but what if the context is more sweet than sexual? “I really like your hair/lips/shoulders” is good too but not really what I’m asking about. Please tell me how you like femmes to compliment your appearance if this resonates!!

A:

Summer: I’m no butch and I suspect some of the other authors responding won’t be. But I am a nerd who spends too much time concocting compliments.

So they aren’t just handsome. They’re robust and solid. Maybe physically, but also emotionally and it complements you. If they have a traditionally masculine skillset with great utility, they’re handy and reliable. None of this precludes emotional expression or femininity. These are just conventionally masculine qualities that happen to be complimentary. Do you feel secure in their company? Lean into it. Tell them how sheltered they make you feel. If someone’s presence is easy-going but reliable, I enjoy their sturdiness.

I find that really good compliments can apply to someone’s personality and physical presence. The descriptors I’m giving here are like that. But there is a purely physical side. A countenance so steely could shape marble. You want those arms to snap you in half and reassemble you afterward. Legs to tame a rhino. A gaze that assures you that everything will be okay in an unforgiving world. Their touch is light as a feather, yet carries the weight of true assurance.

Try getting poetic sometime. It’s fun and can lead to some great laughs. Mascs don’t get enough compliments and it’s up to us to show them more love or make hilarious mistakes while trying.

Kylo: Hi, a masc here that predominantly dates femmes. Firstly, very sweet that you are considering this so deeply. I can only speak for myself, but honestly I love being complimented in lots of different ways! It depends on the context, but “beautiful” is certainly not off the table for me. If there’s an underlying level of gender affirmation and understanding from my partner, I can be way more open to any kind of compliment. Also, controversial — but I like “handsome”! Caveat, that I’m a trans guy, maybe my stud friends could feel differently.

Mal: As a Stud/masc-presenting person who has a hard time accepting compliments but enjoys hearing them as much as anyone else. I like compliments that feel like you paid attention (if you see something say something. ‘I love how you’re holding that. Your hands are so gorgeous to me.’’) or ones that are specific to things you find attractive, not fascinating but actually beautiful. I don’t think you can go wrong complimenting mascs from a genuine loving place. We all like different things and sometimes I didn’t know a compliment would feel so good until I heard it. So keep trying different things and thank you for considering us!! <3

Before you go! Autostraddle runs on the reader support of our AF+ Members. If this article meant something to you today — if it informed you or made you smile or feel seen, will you consider joining AF and supporting the people who make this queer media site possible?

Join AF+!

“Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.”~ Carl Jung

My mom had always been invested in real estate. I remember snacking on open house charcuterie years before we finally purchased a house to flip—the first of four. By the time I was eighteen, we’d moved five times.

I knew our family was falling apart by renovation number three.

I had spent the previous few years experiencing suicidal ideation and was now on a strict cocktail of seven or so psychiatric and neurological medications.

My brother was in his sophomore year of college, on academic probation, and coping by mixing alcohol with benzodiazepines.

My mother was expanding a highly ranked vocational services program while struggling with hyperthyroidism and unidentifiable gut health issues.

My father was often missing, either executing his latest scam (upcharging my friends’ parents on cases of local wine) or pursuing the buyer of our latest fixer-upper, who eventually became his second wife.

I couldn’t see the difference between a faulty house and my faulty family. There were constant leaks (tears), water damage (resentment), and cracks in the foundation (domestic violence), and yet there was character, familiarity, and history worth saving.

My family would have rather remained in denial of our structural instabilities, but the increasing severity of my suicidal ideations left me no choice. If I were to survive, I had to dig through the walls of our house and remove whatever was making me sick.

The Inspection

The first step in the renovation process is identifying the problem areas: what can be saved and what must be removed.

Growing up in a narcissistic family system leaves a child with no baseline to compare to. Narcissistic abuse often isolates physical violence to certain people or excludes it entirely, so traditional models of domestic abuse are not comparable.

Identifying narcissistic abuse is an act of decoding a series of games and behaviors that mimic that of an infant. Pathological narcissists are psychologically frozen in the primordial mind, exclusively concerned with getting their needs met without concern for their effect on others.

My father’s unpredictable conduct was like a mold that had spread into every room of the house: insidious, nearly undetectable. He was rarely physically violent but constantly psychologically toying with us.

Common behaviors included hiding necessities, like keys and wallets; ignoring calls, texts, or even our physical existence; triangulating arguments between family members; and harshly punishing mistakes while finding serious offences humorous. The effects of his volatility appeared in a variety of health issues amongst the rest of us. My brother developed a chronic stomach illness, my mom started losing circulation in her hands, and I began experiencing pseudoseizures.

For the sake of my health, I could not continue living in a mold-infested home; both my physical and psychological well-being were compromised. By the end of my inspection, it had become clear that exterminating my father from the home was integral to my recovery. Too much damage had been done. Gutting the house was the only chance I had at saving it.

Demolition Day

There is no clean or precious way to demolish a house. Ripping out vinyl flooring and knocking down drywall is a messy process. Dust scatters everywhere, glass breaks, and rodent feces are found within walls. If one wishes to undergo such a renovation, they must accept that a mess will be made and cleaned up later.

Identifying my father as a narcissistic abuser released me of the narrative that I was mystifyingly crazy, but it also made him crazier. He became firmly unapologetic, insults and neglect were more pointed, and the physical violence amplified. I was rebelling—as normal teenagers do—but my dad responded with harassment, physical intimidation, and complete emotional abandonment.

My compulsive self-loathing morphed into rage. The harm I had been inflicting inward began unfolding outward in bouts of verbal assault, criticism, and bullying. I remember once screaming profanities and threatening suicide to my ex-boyfriend after I had found out he had been hanging out with a group of our friends without telling me. No one was safe from my wrath.

The threads of my father’s personality that were embedded within me had to be explored in their entirety. They had to be acted out and mirrored back at him for the illusion to be shattered.

In defense of my autonomy, I weaponized his insecurities, verbally recognized him as an abuser, and learned to play his game. I was not the character he had made of me: the cowardly, mentally tortured weakling. I could be volatile, ferocious, and wicked. I could be like him.

By the last renovation, my father’s mental illness had become undeniable. The fighting was constant and precisely unveiled his intemperate nature. After we sold the house, my mom filed for divorce from my dad, and I cut all contact with him. This August, it will be ten years since I’ve spoken to him.

When I finally finished tearing through every wall, counter, and cabinet, I discovered the mold was not the only issue; the foundation was rotten too. Cutting contact with my father did not cure my depression or anxiety because he was only one cog in a faulty machine.

Weak Bones

To properly inspect the foundation of a house, one must calculate how each pillar supports the others. For a house to be stable, the materials must be solid, the architecture perfectly calculated, and the ground level.

In systems of abuse, the abuser is not simply a bug that infiltrates and poisons what would be a normally functioning software; the players within these systems are puzzle pieces, all equally contributing to a complete picture. Identifying the role each member plays is integral to deconstructing the family system and potentially saving it from collapse.

After four or five years of therapy and self-study, I accurately identified each family member’s role in the system: The Narcissist, The Enabler, The Golden Child, and The Scapegoat.

One of the burdens of the Scapegoat in the family system is they’re the only participant living in the shared reality yet surrounded by people motivated to remain in a delusion.

The Narcissist trains each member of the group to deny their reality in favor of his or her perception, which makes it difficult for all parties to differentiate reality from fantasy.

The Scapegoat’s ego strength is usually underdeveloped, making it difficult to maintain the position that they can see through the familial matrix. But the pain of abuse makes reality less deniable for them than, say, the Enabler, who believes they can escape the abuse by remaining in denial, or the Golden Child, who is championed and protected for validating the Narcissist’s perception.

Whether they adhere to the delusion or not, the Scapegoat is never rewarded by the Narcissist, nor allied by the other family members.

This is also the best part about being the Scapegoat. They are the most overtly abused and yet the most likely to recover. There is no value in pleasing or maintaining a connection to the Narcissist nor upholding the false narrative they’ve crafted.

There is no motivation to remain in the fantasy, therefore they have nothing to lose in destroying it. If the Scapegoat can deconstruct the self-loathing, victimized role they’ve been cast in, they can escape the system.

Removing the Narcissist does not necessarily unbind each character from their role. Just as my self-identification with mental illness had assisted my father in creating a Scapegoat of me, my mother’s martyrdom made an Enabler of her, and my brother’s mirroring of the behavior made a Golden Child of him. Once the Narcissist is excavated from the system, each member has to deconstruct their relational patterns and personal identity to properly engage in healthy relationships.

For years, my role as the Scapegoat exempted my family from embracing their own responsibility in fostering my father’s verbal and psychological abuses. Even after my father was ostracized, my identification with “mental illness” made me an easy patsy for my family member’s own dysfunction.

They didn’t need to look within themselves to find a leaky pipe; they could point to my hospitalizations, failing grades, and diagnoses. In order to save myself from the dysfunction, I had to become healthy, so undeniably healthy that the damage could not possibly be coming from me.

Starting from Scratch

Tearing down the residual structure is quicker but just as messy as the demolition process. Every trace of the familial programming within the child must be broken down and examined. Homogenous relationships coined by codependency and self-destruction must be excavated from their life.

The child has to accurately differentiate appropriate and inappropriate behavior from both themselves and those around them before walls can be built to protect them from compulsively engaging in more unhealthy behavior.

Building the frame of oneself is an act of identifying core values and beliefs: “What matters most to me? How do I expect to be treated? What will I not stand for?”

I had to swing to the other end of the pendulum to discover which bits of my upbringing were authentic. Every trace of my upbringing had to be removed from my sense of self: politics, humor, religious beliefs. I became artistic where my family was business-minded, empathetic towards those they would have laughed at, and honest when they would have lied.

I became unrecognizable; the preppy, conservative, private school girl morphed into an edgy leftist with a theater degree. I moved from coast to coast, desperate to escape any identification with my past self. I successfully removed an array of self-destructive habits: boundaryless friendships, hypersexuality, and self-identification with mental illness. The house I had built was sturdy and spotless.

In the end, I discovered that my family members and I don’t entirely share the same values, we do not follow the same moral code, and we are not driven by the same aims, but we are not total opposites. New builds are stable but sterile. I needed to sift through the parts of myself I had thrown away in order to feel complete.

Scavenging the Rubble 

After the construction is finalized, the few remaining remnants of the previous house are piled in the lawn, waiting to be sorted. Some of it is junk, but other bits are sentimental relics of the old home, too precious to leave behind. Beams of original hardwood, vintage furniture, and iron bookends are saved and repurposed as charming decor.

Children of narcissistic family systems grow up not as themselves but as a projection of the narcissist’s experience of the child. The child’s honest self isn’t just neglected; it is punished and suffocated. Even identifying preferences is a difficult task.

When I first began searching for my true self beneath the programming, I would have preferred to have found I have nothing in common with my family or the holographic self that had been projected onto me. It’s tempting to order everything new. It can feel clean and picturesque, but truthfully, I couldn’t decorate myself from scratch. If I were to live authentically, I would need to integrate the parts of myself I would have rather abandoned.

In order to determine which remains could be repurposed, I had to ask myself, “Is this piece mine or something that was instilled in me?”

It’s been almost a year since I moved back to my hometown, and I’ve found that these streets that contain my childhood are also beacons leading me back to my missing parts. My charm, my humor, and even my storytelling abilities are all traces of my family members. The timid, morose young girl formed by my upbringing is a character that contributes to my depth. To remove either from my personality would be a denial of my own complexity.

I am still in the process of completing my home, and there is comfort in knowing that it will never end. I may shut a door too hard, causing a frame to fall and need replacing. I may inherit silver from my grandmother that needs polishing. A house needs constant updating and maintenance; we are always renovating ourselves with new experiences, information, and outlooks.

What’s important now is that I have a place of my own. I am not a living projection created by my upbringing, and I can recognize what is mine and what has been given to me. I am a stable, individual structure with my own design and shape, all of which come from within me and nowhere else.

About Shelby Ruth Ellis

Shelby Ruth Ellis is a playwright, screenwriter, and essayist whose work orbits around emotional alchemy, trauma processing, spirituality, and personal growth. Read more of her work on Substack. Want to connect? Follow Shelby on Twitter and Instagram.

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“Sometimes letting things go is an act of far greater power than defending or hanging on.” ~Eckhart Tolle

In July 2023, my father died in a tragic accident. We were devastated—my sisters, my mother, and I. Or so I thought.

What followed in the months after his death forced me to confront the truth of my mother’s emotional disconnection, a truth I had sensed but never fully allowed myself to see. In losing my father, I also lost the illusion of the mother I thought I had.

A Sudden Exit

By September, just two months after my father’s death, my mother packed up and left the home we had just helped her settle into. She moved from Florida to Alabama to be with a man she had secretly loved for years—her high school crush. A man she had long referred to as her “co-author.” I will call him Roy.

He had been a nightly fixture in her life for a while. She would stay on the phone with him late into the evening, even while my dad slept in the next room. She always claimed it didn’t bother my father. But looking back, I wonder if he just swallowed the discomfort, like so many other things.

Let’s take a step back. In 2022, my sister and I bought a home for our parents to retire in comfortably. We thought we were giving them a safe and loving space to grow old together. But before my father even passed away, my mother had already planned her escape. The house we bought wasn’t her sanctuary. It was a stopover.

She didn’t ask us for help moving. She didn’t even warn us. She bought new luggage, made quiet arrangements, and disappeared. We were suddenly bombarded with text messages filled with excitement: stories of her “new life,” her “adventures,” and her rediscovered love. She glowed with freedom while the rest of us were still gasping for air.

A New Life, A New Name

By January—six months after my father died—she was married to Roy. She changed her last name. She discarded decades of shared identity with my father like she was shedding an old coat. She left behind his ashes. She left the framed photos that we had prepared for his memorial. It was as if he had never existed.

But it wasn’t just him she left behind. She also abandoned her daughters. Her grandchildren. Her great-grandchildren. A family many would cherish, tossed aside like clutter.

Her new story was one of long-suffering redemption. She recast herself as the woman who had endured a marriage with a difficult man and had finally, after decades, found joy. The truth? She had slowly detached from the rest of us for years—investing more time in writing projects and Facebook groups aligned with Roy’s interests, and less in her own family.

Her new husband had also just lost his spouse, only days after my dad died. The narrative practically wrote itself: two grieving souls who found each other through fate. But those of us watching from the outside knew the foundation had been laid long before the funerals.

The Pain of Rewriting the Past

Eventually, my sisters and I had to step away. We had asked for space to grieve our father—kindly, repeatedly. But every boundary was met with denial, deflection, or emotional manipulation. There was no recognition of our pain, only excitement about her “next chapter.”

Sometimes I wrestle with the urge to correct her version of events. In her telling, she’s the eternal victim: a woman finally liberated, only to be judged by ungrateful daughters who refused to be happy for her. But I’ve learned that arguing with someone’s internal mythology rarely leads to healing. It only deepens the divide.

So, I let go. Not of the truth, but of the need for her to see it.

I grieved deeply—not only for my father, but for the mother I thought I had. I began to wonder: Had she ever wanted children? Had she ever truly been emotionally available? Was it all performative?

Those are hard questions to ask. But once I allowed myself to see her clearly—not as the mother I hoped she was, but as the woman she actually is—I began to feel something surprising: relief. And eventually, acceptance. Accepting that a parent is incapable of giving you the love you needed is one of the hardest emotional tasks we face. But it’s also one of the most liberating.

Breaking the Cycle

There were red flags in childhood. My mom wasn’t nurturing. She often complained of pain, stayed stuck on the couch, irritable and disconnected from the rest of the family. I walked on eggshells around her. I can’t recall warm, playful memories. That emotional void quietly shaped me in ways I didn’t fully understand until recently.

I developed an attachment style that drew me to avoidant relationships, repeating old patterns. I didn’t know how to ask for what I needed because I had never learned to recognize my needs in the first place.

Through therapy, reflection, and support, I began to break the cycle. But it required giving up the fantasy. It required grieving not just the loss of my parents, but the loss of the childhood I wished I had. This is not a story of blaming parents, but rather one of gaining a deeper understanding of my mother to better understand myself.

I want to be clear: I have compassion for my mother. She grew up with mental illness in her home. She wasn’t nurtured either. She didn’t learn how to attune, connect, or show up. She may have done the best she could with what she had.

But compassion doesn’t mean ignoring harm. I can hold both truths: her pain was real, and so is the pain she inflicted.

The Freedom of Letting Go

I’ve stopped hoping for an apology. I’ve stopped trying to explain myself. And I’ve stopped trying to earn her love.

Instead, I’m investing in the relationships that nourish me. I’m giving myself the emotional safety I never had. I’m allowing myself to feel it all—the grief, the clarity, the compassion, the peace. Letting go of a parent doesn’t make you cold-hearted. It means you’ve decided to stop betraying yourself.

Because here’s the truth I’ve come to accept: we can love our parents and still recognize that the relationship isn’t healthy. We can give grace for their pain without sacrificing our own healing. And in some cases, we can—and must—walk away.

There is freedom in seeing our parents as they really are—not as idealized figures, but as complex, flawed humans. When we hold onto illusions, we gaslight ourselves. We call ourselves too sensitive or too needy when in reality, we’re responding to unmet needs that have been there all along.

To me, that doesn’t mean sitting in resentment about what you didn’t get from your parents; it means figuring out how to provide that for yourself as an adult. If we don’t examine those early wounds, we carry them forward. We struggle to trust. We tolerate toxic dynamics. We confuse love with emotional labor.

Understanding where it all began leads to healthy change. We can choose different relationships. We can choose ourselves.

And that, I’ve learned, is where healing begins.

About Anissa

Anissa Bell is a licensed marriage and family therapist and sleep specialist who helps anxious minds find rest—even when life feels anything but restful. She works with clients to untangle the worries that keep them up at night, including work stressors, relationship problems, complicated family dynamics, and the overall life messiness that fuels anxiety and insomnia. Learn more about her therapy practice at sleep-anxiety.com orclaritytherapyassociates.com, or get to know her on a more personal level HERE.

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It’s true! Laughter is some of the best medicine. While you definitely want to experience this with your teen, this article is about you and your spouse. And oftentimes, laughter is the last thing we tend to share with one another. That and the idea that “this too shall pass”. Because it will, barring a critical issue evolving with your teenager, many of the tense moments are around smaller things that will be worked through.

Learning to laugh about them is one thing. First, we have to not take them so seriously as to redirect our angst against our spouse. That is really, really important! How do we do this? I have no idea. I just know it’s a good thing when it happens. How’s that for helpful? Keep it in the back of your mind. Try to allow your emotional reactions to dissipate in exchange for objective thinking. Don’t be afraid to cast a wink at your spouse in the height of things so you can remember to laugh later.

Raising teenagers? It’s not for the faint of heart. But it can be extremely rewarding, not just as parents, but as married couples. Join forces, brave souls! Ride into the fray with the intent not to forget the one at your side! Raise your banners high and prepare for battle! Draw your swords and—no. Fine. I’m being extreme.

The point is, we need our spouses. The last thing we want to do is damage our relationship with each other while trying to preserve our relationship with our teen. So communicate, spend time together, prioritize each other, share thoughts and emotions, and don’t criticize the other—even if they are overreacting.

And just imagine…one of these days, not long in the future, you’ll be rocking on your front porch, coffee in hand, talking about the “good ol’ days” when your phone rings, and your now adult child calls to ask you: “What do I do? My teenager is driving us nuts!”

What can you do? Communicate as much as possible on every device possible. Make trips to see them when you can, and ask your children to make it a priority for them to see their grandparents at least twice a year. 

Resources: 

The Health Benefits of Having (and Being) Grandparents 

7 Small Ways to Love Your Grandkids from Afar

2. When Illness or Disability Makes it Difficult

Photo credit: ©GettyImages/Sneksy

A lot of the issues with distance can be experienced when a grandparent suffers from illness or disability. Both create a similar strain on kids and grandparents. It is especially gut-wrenching when a child has had a close relationship with an active grandparent, and that relationship changes overnight.

What can you do? Explain to the child that God is working out His perfect plan in the grandparent’s life just like He is in theirs. Don’t keep the child from the grandparent unless there are things the child is too young to experience or see. Normalizing illness and encouraging the child to come up with creative ways to interact with the grandparent can help both to grow by the grace of God.

3. When Grandparents Disagree with Parents on Major Issues

This is an entire article unto itself, as there is much to unpack with this. But suffice it to say that grandparents need to know what the issues are, how serious they are, and what options are available to them to rectify. For instance, if there is a disagreement over how much time the child spends with one side of the family over the other, this should only require sensible, adult conversation to create a fair calendar.

However, if the issue is that the parents are encouraging the child to choose their gender, that requires much more effort on the part of the grandparents. Unfortunately, many states protect children’s rights over their parents–and grandparents have even less power. Situations like this call for much prayer, support from your church, advice from a Christian mental health professional —but most of all, two-way conversation with the child that expresses your love for how God made them, what’s happening in their life, how Jesus feels about them, and why they feel defined the way they do.

Resources:

How to Disagree with Family without Destroying Relationships

Grandparenting as a Team: How to Lead Grandchildren with Parents, Not against Them

Helping Children with Gender Identity Confusion – Focus on the Family

Photo Credit: ©iStock/Getty Images Plus/evgenyatamanenko

4. When Parents Divorce

Our society has normalized divorce, so parents rarely think about the level of impact on their children. They believe if they are happy, the children will be happy. But God designed the family the way He did for a reason, and much has to do with same-gender and cross-gender nurturing, feelings of security, and stability. While a grandparent can’t fix the divorce, spending time with Grandma and Grandpa can help give the child more of what is missing due to mom and dad being apart.

I highly recommend that grandparents remain as aware as possible about what is happening at home or in both homes. Without alienating mom and dad, grandparents can support the grandchildren and try to help normalize their lives. I know a grandpa who has to walk a fine line between mom and dad with his comments because he knows that at any time, the parents may withhold visits with him. But he realized how much the parents began to appreciate his help with his granddaughter, so they became more open to hearing comments about how to create the best life possible for the child.

5. When Your Grandchild Is Lost Spiritually

If a child is spiritually lost, there is a better-than-average chance that their parents are also lost. However, God, in His sovereignty, placed your grandchild into your family for a reason. One reason may be that you are to have spiritual influence over this particular human’s life–the most important work you will ever do. Of course, that starts with fervent prayer, asking the Lord to reach this child’s mind and heart with the truth of the gospel. For young children, there are a number of excellent children’s Bibles that are much more visually and verbally appealing than their predecessors. Read with them every chance you get.

But look for other ways to influence the child’s faith. Take every opportunity to talk with the child about Jesus, asking the Holy Spirit for the right timing and words. Also, will the parents let you take the child to Vacation Bible School? Sunday School? Youth group? A game night at church? I would also enlist a group of prayer warriors at your church to agree in prayer with you. Perhaps there are other families in the church with a child your grandchild’s age that you could introduce them to. If your church has a children’s ministry, talk to the leader about how to reach out to this child since that is their expertise!

6. When Your Grandchild Can’t or Doesn’t Want to See You

Photo credit: ©GettyImages/Deagreez

There are a number of scenarios that may cause this, but I’m reminded of an especially painful one for grandparents I know. They practically raised their grandsons since they babysat them so much. They doted on them, played with them, and cheered them on as they grew into athletes. But then, one day, Mom got into an argument with Grandma over something silly, and suddenly the kids were not allowed to see their grandparents. They were eight and 15 at the time. They died after dealing with this heartbreak for a dozen years.

In this scenario, the grandchildren were told a lie about their grandparents, so the kids didn’t want to see them. When they were old enough to drive or choose for themselves, they still ignored Grandma and Grandpa. Of course, the first thing to do in this situation is to pray as fervently as possible–using God’s Word about children and families as your guide. Pray for their faith in the midst of this. Pour out your heart before God and ask Him to take your pain and use it for good and His glory (Romans 8:28). Then see if there are practical things you can do.

7. When Your Children Are Not Adulting

Another friend of mine is in a very difficult position. Her son and daughter-in-law announced they were having a baby, and she panicked. These two young people had very little clue how to be adults though they were in their mid-20s. Neither one had a decent job, didn’t keep their home clean, and had questionable friends and activities. I was impressed to see how she stepped in to ensure the child had everything he needed–medical/dental care, a good Christian school, church, and Sunday School.

The parents are finally starting to catch up after watching her for six years. This grandparent could have very easily taken her hands off the wheel, but she truly felt called by God to help train up this child in the way he should go. She regrets how she raised her son to be spoiled, but God took the dysfunction of the whole situation and redeemed it.

8. When Your Kids Take Advantage of You

Unfortunately, grandchildren are too easily used as bargaining tools between parents and grandparents. Your kids know you want to spend time with the grandchildren and be part of their lives, but in a dysfunctional relationship, grandparents become codependent and let their kids take too much advantage.

They may expect that since the grandparents love the kids, they want to see them as much as possible. There may be no boundaries about when little Amanda comes over, even if it’s inconvenient for Grandpa. And if they really want to take advantage, they will bring her over when she needs a meal, needs help with homework, or needs to get something at the store for school the next day. I know a gentleman who has had to pay all of the medical bills for his granddaughter because the parents won’t pay for insurance for her. The parents have also borrowed money for things like birthday parties.

Going to God With All of It

Photo credit: ©GettyImages/andreswd

It doesn’t take much to see that many of the situations I chose to illustrate are dysfunctional: people acting poorly toward one another. So if you see yourself or your family in any of these examples, consider what Jesus said about the second commandment: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Mark 12:31. It might sound like a trite answer, but think about all that implies:

• Have self-respect and self-control based on the Word of God. Understand that the God of the universe created you for such a time as this to lavish His love on you. Make sure you spend significant time each day in God’s Word and prayer to strengthen your heart and mind to handle situations with family. Ask Him to help you act appropriately and set boundaries that will be a blessing to all.
• Share the love and forgiveness that God has lavished on you. Ask the Holy Spirit to bring the Word alive as you read it so you know the real truth, not relative, postmodern truth that your children and grandchildren are exposed to. Be a light in a dark place, a city on a hill, and salt and light as the leader of your family.

Finally, I know a woman who told her children long before they were married that she didn’t intend to be a grandmother. When grandchildren began to emerge, she moved across the country and retired to the ski slopes. She doesn’t visit or acknowledge birthdays. Now you could say that she has escaped all of the “problems” of being a grandparent–and perhaps she knows herself best–but I think even with the struggles, it is incredibly worthwhile to watch a grandchild grow and be part of that experience. If God brings them, they deserve our best.

Photo credit: ©GettyImages/FG Trade

Mary Oelerich-Meyer is a Chicago-area freelance writer and copy editor who prayed for years for a way to write about and for the Lord. She spent 20 years writing for area healthcare organizations, interviewing doctors and clinical professionals and writing more than 1,500 articles in addition to marketing collateral materials. Important work, but not what she felt called to do. She is grateful for any opportunity to share the Lord in her writing and editing, believing that life is too short to write about anything else. Previously she served as Marketing Communications Director for a large healthcare system. She holds a B.A. in International Business and Marketing from Cornell College (the original Cornell!) When not researching or writing, she loves to spend time with her writer daughter, granddaughter, rescue doggie and husband (not always in that order).  

When my son was born in 2017, I decided to focus on being a stay-at-home dad (SAHD). Every early childhood development book I read emphasized that the first five years are the most critical for a child’s growth. So I figured, why not spend that time with him?

It wasn’t a difficult decision since I hadn’t had a day job since 2012. The only things I risked sacrificing were my writing, patience, and sanity.

I believe being a stay-at-home parent for the first three years is one of the hardest jobs in the world—far tougher than working 60-hour weeks in banking. So I’m confident it’s harder than most other jobs too. At the same time, it’s also the most rewarding work I’ve ever done. But that chapter is now over.

For men considering becoming stay-at-home dads during their child’s early years, I want to share some perspective before you take the leap. This applies equally to women thinking about leaving the workforce to be stay-at-home moms, but with a male twist.

This article is also my declaration that after eight years and two months, I no longer consider myself a stay-at-home dad. The reason is obvious in the end.

Some Important Truths About Being a Stay-at-Home Dad (SAHD)

Here are the most important things to watch out for if you want to become a SAHD. If you can accept these truths, your time as a SAHD will be better.

1) You’ll Be Part of a Small Minority

If you’re not used to being a minority, you may have a difficult time fitting in as a SAHD. In my eight years here in San Francisco as a SAHD, I estimate only about 5% of dads I meet are the primary caregivers. The same is true in other big cities like New York.

Here’s my rough breakdown of childcare providers I’ve observed from going to playgrounds, parks, museums, activities, and schools:

• 60-70% — Nannies (100% women).
• 10-20% — Au pairs (100% women).
• 10-20% — Moms
• 3% – 7% — Dads

SAHDs Must Learn to Adapt to Awkward Situations

As a minority, you’ll need to blend in and sometimes navigate cultural or gender-specific topics and conversations.

One time, I was with my wife and a group of eight moms in Golden Gate Park. We were going for a nice stroll when suddenly, the group decided to take a break underneath the shade of a nice big tree. We rolled out our blankets and cradled our babies, when suddenly, breastfeeding started. I felt awkward even if the moms did not, so I left to give the moms privacy, leaving my daughter with my wife. Since then, I stopped joining mothers’ walking groups and usually walked alone or with my wife.

Being a minority can sometimes mean having fewer social connections, as it may be harder to assimilate or be fully included. You might find yourself intentionally or unintentionally left out of group activities organized by the majority. It’s important to get used to moments of isolation—and to recognize that building meaningful friendships may require extra effort.

Another time, a nanny’s toddler was crying uncontrollably for about 10 minutes while she chatted with other nannies. I offered to help play with the toddler while parkour class was going on, but she gave me a cold glare and said, “No, I don’t need your help,” before scolding the child. That was the last time I offered to help a stranger’s child out of fear of backlash.

2) Other Men and Women May Not Give You the Respect You Seek

In our status-conscious world, being a stay-at-home dad is still an anomaly. Unless you’ve built a company or made a fortune, few people—both men and women—will give you much respect. They might be polite to your face, but that doesn’t mean they’ll invite you into their social circles.

Among working men, there’s often a lingering belief that men should be the primary breadwinners. As a result, they may view your role with confusion, skepticism, or quiet judgment.

Mothers may appear more welcoming, but in reality, they often form tight-knit groups with other mothers. Even if your wife works full-time and you handle all the household chores, pickups, drop-offs, and scheduling, you may still be seen as an outsider.

Perhaps the hardest part, though, is dealing with your own sense of embarrassment. Any lingering insecurity about your role can show up in how you speak and carry yourself to the outside world. Even if raising your child is the most meaningful job you’ve ever had, it can be hard to fully embrace your identity as a stay-at-home dad.

The solution to this insecurity is to have a project of your own—something you’re actively building or working toward. It doesn’t have to generate income; it can be what I call a “trust fund job,” where the focus is on activity, not profit. The key is to maintain a sense of personal identity beyond fatherhood, so you don’t feel like your entire worth is tied to being a parent.

3) You Will Be Taken for Granted, No Matter How Hard You Try

Marriage plus parenthood is hard. There’s a reason parental happiness often dips during the early years of raising children. Less sleep, little personal time, and constant exhaustion can take a toll, making it much easier to argue with your spouse. You may find yourself longing for appreciation just as you’re running on empty.

As a stay-at-home dad—while the vast majority of fathers work outside the home—you’ll do far more of the childcare in comparison. You might take pride in always being there for your kids and feel you deserve recognition for it. But here’s the truth: nobody else cares as much as you do—because they’re your kids, not theirs. That’s why fatherhood must be intrinsically motivated. If you’re constantly looking for external validation, you’ll be disappointed.

No matter how much you contribute there will be times you feel underappreciated. Your spouse may take you for granted, and it’ll hurt. But this is a common dynamic in long-term relationships. It is inevitable to take for granted what someone does for us day in and day out. The key is to acknowledge it, communicate it, and try to reduce how often those feelings arise.

Maybe your wife had a brutal day—her boss embarrassed her in front of colleagues, she lost a major client, or a product she poured months into flopped. After a 12-hour day and a draining commute, she may not have much emotional bandwidth left to recognize everything you’ve done at home. Try to acknowledge her situation and step up to do more when she’s running on empty.

Marriages are never 50/50. Be the parent who steps up when the other is struggling.

At the same time, you might also take her hard work for granted. After the 20th 6:30 a.m. client call, the 21st doesn’t seem like a big deal. But maybe all she wants is one morning to sleep in without pressure or performance looming.

When these feelings creep in, pause and reframe: realize how fortunate you are to have a spouse whose work allows you to stay home and raise your children. Odds are, they’d love to trade places sometimes—to spend more time with the kids and less time grinding at work. Unless you’re DUPs, someone has to earn the income and keep the family’s healthcare covered.

Appreciation can fade in the daily grind. So remind each other, often, of the sacrifices you’re both making—for your children, and for each other. Regularly go through the things you are grateful for.

4) Losing Money And Falling Behind In Your Career Will Sting

The biggest dilemma is whether to sacrifice career for children or children for career. Ironically, you either have to be wealthy enough to stay home or poor enough that working and paying for childcare isn’t worth it. Those in the middle face the toughest choice.

I’ve given up millions of dollars in income to be a stay-at-home father. This includes lost earnings from my finance career as well as from growing Financial Samurai.

Since my son was born in 2017, I’ve deliberately chosen not to work full-time on the site. Had I committed 40–50 hours a week, I’m confident I could have significantly scaled Financial Samurai, increased ad revenue, and developed more products to sell. But instead, I chose to maintain a 15–20 hour workweek—hours that occur mostly before the kids are up or after they are asleep—so I could spend as much time with him as possible.

As a result, it took several years longer to buy the ideal house to raise a family. Further, I’ve had to delay reaching financial independence once more.

All Or Nothing Is Not Ideal

As someone who helped kickstart the modern FIRE movement in 2009, I waited to have children until I could care for them full-time. I didn’t want to sacrifice my career for family in my 20s and early 30s. I worked hard to build enough wealth and retired at 34.

But this all-or-nothing approach risks delaying parenthood too long. Biological challenges increase with age, and if you have kids later, you have less time with them. Losing parents before a child turns 25 happens often, especially since people are having children later and life is unpredictable. Since you’ll love your children above all else, it makes sense to want as much time together as possible.

Luckily for older parents, there’s a simple, logical solution to make up for lost time: understand how much time the average working parent spends with their child each day, and then spend more time with your child until you catch up or even exceed that total by the time they turn 18. Because, as we sadly know, once our children reach 18, about 80-90% of all the time we will ever spend with them is already behind us.

Choosing Time With Your Kids Over Money and Meetings

Because I gave up money and meetings before having kids, I certainly won’t seek more money and meetings now that I have kids.

If it takes three more years to hit a new passive income target without a steady job, so be it. I’m not willing to miss out on my time with them for any amount of potential income.

Let’s break it down: If I earn $250,000 a year but pay $50,000 for a nanny, my income is $200,000, but really less due to taxes. Imagine sitting in 3 hours of meetings every day for 261 workdays — that’s 783 hours annually. No way! I know this because I consulted part-time for four months and felt bad even missing out on one activity with my daughter.

Now let’s jack up that income to $3 million a year at a hot AI company after paying for a nanny, but before taxes. Since I’m a big wig now, I’m in meetings for 5 hours every day for 261 workdays – that’s 1,305 hours annually. Forget that.

You can always make more money, but you can never get back lost time. So choosing your children over more money and career progression is logical.

Some Great Benefits of Being a Stay-at-Home Dad (SAHD)

We’ve covered the hard truths—feelings of isolation, less respect from other parents, a smaller paycheck, possibly a stalled career, and getting taken for granted. But luckily, there are also some powerful upsides to being a stay-at-home dad. Let’s dive in.

1) Your Wife Or Spouse Can Never Call You a Deadbeat Dad

If you’ve been with your wife and child since birth—attending doctor visits, washing bottles, handling meals, and taking the baby out so your wife can rest—it’s impossible for her to say you weren’t there. You’ve earned your stripes.

When your wife feels more supported and rested, the entire family benefits. She’s less exhausted and more emotionally present. And if you have multiple kids, your ability to manage one or more of them for extended stretches becomes even more valuable.

As time goes on and you build up “credits” from the time and effort you’ve put in, you’ll also feel less guilty about asking for personal time—whether it’s a night out with friends or a weekend golf trip.

2) You’ll Likely Develop a Closer Relationship With Your Kids

A common fear is that even with more time spent together, you might still end up with a strained relationship with your children. Genetics, personality clashes, and differing interests can all play a role.

But in my experience—and after speaking to hundreds of dads—there’s a strong correlation between time spent and relationship strength. Kids may not remember anything from ages 0–3, but they feel your presence. And after age three, their memories become clearer and deeper. That’s when your investment of time starts to pay off in tangible ways.

You can reinforce those early years with photos and videos, reminding them of how involved you’ve been since day one. That emotional foundation can carry into their own parenting values later on.

3) You’ll Catch Developmental Issues Sooner

Working long hours or traveling frequently often means relying entirely on teachers and caregivers to monitor your child’s development. That’s fine—if those teachers are excellent. But not every classroom is led by a superstar, and not every nanny or au pair puts her phone away while engaging with your child.

I once met the father of a second grader who was shocked to learn his daughter didn’t know how to read. I couldn’t help but wonder—how is that a surprise if you’ve been reading to her regularly over the past seven years? Unless, of course, he hadn’t been. That’s the kind of thing a stay-at-home parent would likely have noticed much earlier.

Being a stay-at-home dad gives you the opportunity to catch developmental gaps early—before they grow into bigger, costlier problems down the road.

4) You’ll Have More Energy and Enthusiasm to Engage

After a long workday, it’s natural to want to decompress: crack a beer, eat dinner, and zone out. During the thick of my Millionaire Milestones promo cycle, I often felt drained when picking up my kids because I had given multiple interviews and done multiple consulting sessions. It made me less motivated to coach them tennis or play imaginative games at home.

But as a stay-at-home dad, especially when the kids are in school, your energy levels are higher. You can regularly take afternoon naps to be ready for their hurricane of energy and emotion when you pick them up. That extra enthusiasm can lead to more engaged parenting, whether it’s reading stories, building Lego sets, or practicing new skills.

5) The Days Are Long, But You’ll Be Able To Slow Down The Years

Though days can feel endless, the months and years pass quickly. But if you’re a stay-at-home dad, you can somewhat slowdown the years in retrospect because you won’t feel as bad missing so many precious milestones.

If you can, give being a stay-at-home parent a go. You won’t regret trying it. Like any tough challenge, giving it a shot means you won’t be haunted by “what if.” You really only have to sacrifice your career for five years at most.

If five years feels too long, consider going back to work once your child starts preschool (around 2-3 years old). Kindergarten typically starts at 5-6 years.

Start Small and Build Up

Take full advantage of your employer’s parental leave (usually 1-4 months). After that, reassess if you want to return to work or continue as a stay-at-home parent. If your finances allow, I say go for it. The growth between 6 and 24 months is truly incredible.

Typical Developmental Milestones for Babies And Toddlers (0-24 Months)

0-3 Months

• Lifts head briefly when on tummy
• Follows objects with eyes
• Begins to smile socially
• Makes cooing sounds
• Grasps reflexively when objects touch palm

4-6 Months

• Rolls over front to back, then back to front
• Sits with support
• Reaches for and grasps objects intentionally
• Begins babbling (ba-ba, da-da)
• Shows interest in food, may start solids

7-9 Months

• Sits without support
• Crawls or scoots
• Pulls up to stand using furniture
• Transfers objects between hands
• Says first words like “mama” or “dada” (not always specific)

10-12 Months

• Cruises along furniture
• May take first steps independently
• Uses pincer grasp (thumb and forefinger)
• Waves bye-bye
• Understands simple commands like “no”
• Says 1-3 words clearly

13-18 Months

• Walks independently
• Climbs stairs with help
• Stacks 2-3 blocks
• Uses 10-20 words
• Points to desired objects
• Begins using spoon (messily)
• Shows affection to familiar people

19-24 Months

• Runs and kicks a ball
• Walks up and down stairs holding rail
• Stacks 4-6 blocks
• Uses 50+ words and begins 2-word phrases
• Follows two-step instructions
• Begins pretend play
• Shows increasing independence

The Value of Witnessing Milestones

Being home means you witness all these priceless moments firsthand. Others may see these milestones as ordinary, but to a parent, they’re little miracles — rewards for all your effort.

Seeing my son roll over for the first time felt like watching him win Olympic gold. It’s that gratifying. Plus, being there means you get those video memories to treasure forever.

Interestingly, nannies and au pairs often keep milestones secret from parents so the parents feel like they were the first to see them. That’s emotional intelligence in action — making tired, maybe guilty parents feel more joy. What parents don’t know won’t hurt them.

6) You’ll develop greater patience and empathy

When you first start caring for your baby, all the crying can fry your nerves. After three months of trying to soothe my son, I couldn’t take it anymore. My wife stepped in—and she’s been leading the charge ever since. One helpful strategy I discovered: wear AirPods while changing diapers or feeding. You’ll still hear your baby, but the volume won’t be as overwhelming.

Because you need to show love and care to your children, you’ll learn to literally get down to their level and try to understand what they’re experiencing. This kind of compassion and empathy carries over to how you interact with adults as well. You’ll naturally become more patient, since reasoning with grown-ups is often easier than reasoning with toddlers.

The next time someone hurls an insult your way, you might find it doesn’t sting as much—because as a parent, you’re constantly being disrespected anyway. Instead of getting upset, you may even start wondering what kind of childhood the insulter had, and feel a sense of empathy for why they’re being so rude. This kind of mindset has helped me a lot whenever I receive particularly nasty comments. I’m far less combative now.

One day, in the middle of dinner chaos—with your kids squirming, refusing to eat, or bouncing around the living room—you might find yourself surprisingly calm. You’ll pause, look around, and realize just how far you’ve come.

Why I No Longer Call Myself a Stay-at-Home Dad

The thing about being a stay-at-home dad is—it doesn’t last forever. Once your kids start full-time school, your role naturally shifts. With six extra hours a day, you suddenly have space to pursue other things: exercise, freelance, consult, start a business, or just catch your breath.

This transition is a golden window. I know dads building AI tools, volunteering at school, and picking up creative projects. I recently gave a talk on personal finance at my child’s after-school program—it was both fun and fulfilling.

Once my second child entered full-time school, I no longer felt right labeling myself a stay-at-home dad. With more time between drop-off and pickup, I returned to writing and am now focused on achieving financial freedom again by the end of 2027—and writing another book.

Still, I stay involved—tutoring my son each evening and being present whenever needed. But I also feel a strong urge to stay productive during the day. A life of just tennis, lunch, and naps feels hollow. I crave purpose.

Being a stay-at-home dad is unconventional, but deeply rewarding. If you’re financially able, I highly recommend doing it for the first 2–3 years of your child’s life. It’ll challenge you—and change you. But the extra time with your kids is priceless.

Readers, any stay-at-home dads out there want to share your experience? What did you do once your kids started school full-time? Why do you think more men don’t take on this role—especially as more women earn degrees and become primary breadwinners? Has this post made you consider giving it a try?

Suggestions For Parents

If you are ready to build more wealth than 94% of the population, grab a copy of my new book, Millionaire Milestones: Simple Steps to Seven Figures. With over 30 years of experience working in, studying, and writing about finance, I’ve distilled everything I know into this practical guide to help you achieve financial success. After building greater wealth, you might gain the option of becoming a stay-at-home dad or mom.

Every parent should have an affordable term life insurance policy—especially those carrying debt. Getting life insurance is an act of love for your children. During the pandemic, my wife and I secured matching term policies through Policygenius. Once we had coverage in place, we breathed a huge sigh of relief knowing our kids would be taken care of, just in case. Life insurance provides a critical layer of stability for the household if the worst were to happen.

Subscribe To Financial Samurai

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Caring for kids and parents at the same time

As I watched my brother wheel her out to my car, temporarily parked in the airport arrivals pickup line, I instantly felt shocked. 

This wasn’t the mother who’d gone off to Arizona a mere seven months ago. She was frail; her clothes hung off her the way my grown-up clothes cascade off my eight-year-old. Her hair, which she’d long colored a deep shade of red and had styled the same way since I was small, was a ratty, gray mess. Her nails, which she’d always kept perfectly rounded and manicured, were unpolished and ragged.

Even though I knew she’d declined, seeing her this way was jarring. And heartbreaking. 

If she had her wits about her, I knew she’d be mortified.

I first noticed the spottiness of her memory back in 2019 when she was diagnosed with a blood cancer disease called Myelodysplastic Syndrome (MDS). She’d had labs drawn and they’d come back wonky – her white blood cell count was too low – and we needed to make an appointment with a hematologist. 

During that time, I’d been hyper-focused on all the responsibilities and joys that come along with raising 3 small children (twins and a singleton). Though she lived alone and I often worried about that – my dad died when I was just 27 – I assumed my mom had everything regarding her health and medical care under control. But in 2019 when I went into her medical chart to reach out to her primary care physician for a referral, I couldn’t find one. When I asked her who she saw, she couldn’t remember; then she named a doctor I knew she hadn’t seen since I was a child. 

I decided to take control, the same way I do with my own children’s care. 

It was that day I became a member of the Sandwich Generation.

I remember vividly the day I locked myself into one of the private rooms at my coworking space and made phone calls to all the doctors my mother had seen over the last 5 years trying to determine which one was her primary. I utilized the wall-hanging whiteboard to draw a diagram – my mom in the middle with several outward spokes pointing to every doctor and medical facility she’d visited, similar to what you might see on a detective show.

It took me all day to sort it out. I promised her that either I or one of my four older siblings would accompany her to every doctor’s appointment going forward. This was to offer her support, yes, but also because I was beginning to realize she needed our ears and minds – she needed us to hear and record the important information each doctor was going to share. 

That evening, I was emotionally exhausted. I sat with my husband on our bed, and the tears began rolling until I was blinded by them. 

I was completely overwhelmed. 

Caregiving for my elderly mother and young children felt completely untenable.

How was I going to manage this – my mother’s impending needs and care – as well as my own children’s? My kids, then 7, 4, and 4, needed their mom. They were my top priority, but now… now my mom needed me too. 

Desperately. 

And I felt physically sick. How was I going to do this? 

“One foot in front of the other,” offered my husband as he held me close. “That’s all you can do. And you’re not alone in this. I’m here to support you and our family. Always. We can do this.” 

I’d always been grateful for him, but in that moment, my gratitude was tenfold. We always joked that together we were The Force, but on that night, I knew it was true. 

The very next week, my brother and I brought my mom to her first appointment with her new oncologist. 

“This type of blood cancer turns into acute myeloid leukemia,” said Dr. Warlick. “If we do nothing, we’re probably looking at three years of life left. Maybe less.” 

Our hearts sank. Three years? How was that even possible? She was so young – and I wasn’t ready to be parentless.

“And if we do something?” I asked. 

“Well, we can do an aggressive type of chemo,” she went on. “Your mom will have to come in a couple of times a week for her treatment, and we’ll follow her blood work closely to see if there are any changes. If she were younger and healthy, we’d look at a bone marrow transplant, but considering her age and the fact she’s been a lifelong smoker, she’s just not a candidate for that.” 

We chose to do the chemo and, after several months, she miraculously went into remission. Even her oncologist was surprised. “I don’t know how long this will last,” she said, “This type of cancer is terminal. It will come back. But until then, go enjoy life.”

But something happened while my siblings and I were taking my mom to all her labs and doctor’s appointments; we noticed something equally as life-threatening and terrifying as her MDS. She was often forgetful and confused. And not just a little bit, but very much so. 

Since my dad passed away in 2007, she’d been more reclusive than she ever was; she was also becoming exceptionally paranoid and wary of those around her. She spent so much time alone. 

I began to notice that she’d make up stories, which, to this day, I’m not sure if she knew were false or if she thought they were truly reality. But this was different. These new stories she was telling were far more outlandish and bizarre.

We also began to notice how she’d ask the same questions multiple times within a short conversation. She started calling me in the evenings confused, unsure what medications she was supposed to take and when, and what her plans were for the following day. And I was shocked by the mess I’d see when I’d visit her at home because she had always been a consummate neat freak.

Being disorganized, messy, and – gasp! – dirty was simply NOT in her DNA. I think perhaps this tipped me off more than anything. Yet I didn’t know how to bring it up to her. I knew if I accused her of being forgetful, she’d become defensive. But then, one day, the opportunity arose. 

We were in my car on our way home from one of her medical appointments when she said, “Marissa, I’m noticing that my mind isn’t working as well as it used to. I asked someone – a doctor friend of mine – at the golf club if I should be worried, and he said it’s normal, that all old people forget things now and then.” 

But I took this opportunity to discuss the subject without her becoming offended or angry at me for doing so. 

“Mom, it’s interesting you say that. Actually – I’ve been noticing it a little bit too. Hey – would you mind if I made an appointment for you with a ‘memory doctor’? Someone who can help us determine if this is normal aging, or maybe if it’s something more?” 

It was out of character for her, but since her cancer diagnosis, she’d been far more amenable to these types of requests from me. 

“Okay,” she agreed. “That sounds like a good idea.” 

When we first met her memory doctor, who was a geriatrician specializing in Alzheimer’s/Dementia, I was exceptionally nervous. I didn’t want to hear the news that I knew deep in my gut was true. She gave my mom a series of cognitive tests – one that was verbal, one in which she had to draw pictures and complete a written exam – followed by drawing blood for pertinent labs (the MRI came a few weeks later). 

At the end of the appointment, Dr. Smith explained to us as gently as she could that she thought my mom was in the early stages of Dementia. 

This was a gut punch. Even though I’d already known it was true – it didn’t lessen the blow of those words. Your mom is in the early stages of Dementia.

I kept a brave face and held my voice steady. I knew I needed to be strong for my mom. But on that drive home, I was a mess. Rambling on and on about things that didn’t matter, just trying to avoid the topic at hand – the one we both felt like the weight of 12 boulders. 

Dementia. 

I tried to hold it together that evening at home. I didn’t want to burden my children with my pain and panic – or let on how scared I was that perhaps one day this terrifying fate would befall me. To cope, I tried my best to focus my energy on them – playing games, drawing, reading books – but in the moments of silence and stillness, the tears pricked my eyes. 

Over the next several weeks, we completed the necessary tasks one must do when a parent or family member is diagnosed with dementia. We filled out the important paperwork – POA (power of attorney), advanced directives, and so on – and tried our best to plan for an unpredictable future. For now, she was OK living alone, driving, and enjoying her day-to-day activities, but I knew it was only a matter of time. 

I’m a type-A planner who likes to be in control, but there was no planning for or controlling this. And without the ability to plan and check things off a to-do list, my anxiety spiraled. 

As the months went on, my mom’s cancer remained in remission… but, as it does, her dementia worsened. We faced the hard truth – the truth that she didn’t want to accept. Driving was now unsafe – she’d been getting lost far more often – and spending the days on her own was equally as hazardous. We realized she needed a higher level of care.

My siblings and I could no longer be her sole caregivers.

She accepted this, which surprised me, but she refused to let her helper move in with her because she so deeply valued her privacy and space. We went along with this, even though I knew it was the wrong choice. But she was becoming unsteady on her feet and the clutter in her home was growing out of control and posed a fall hazard for her. Not to mention, a pack-a-day smoker, I constantly feared she’d burn the house down. 

My endless worry impacted my parenting. My brain was constantly churning with fears, thoughts, and tasks about my mom and my kids. I kept an ongoing to-do list with three columns: Kids, Mom, and Work. I always felt like I was dropping the ball somewhere: not able to make it to someone’s play at school; not able to take my mom to an important appointment; not able to complete a deadline for work; no energy left to connect with my husband, and so on, and so forth. I was breaking; pouring everything, all the time, from an empty cup. 

The empty cup well known to those in the sandwich generation.

Last April, while my mom was in Arizona for the winter, everything changed in an instant. 

It was an evening after her caregiver had left for the day. She was outside, likely having a cigarette, when she walked down toward the end of her driveway. She tripped on the driveway’s lip, fell hard to the ground… and broke her hip. 

Miraculously, a neighbor spotted her and ran to her side. The neighbor grabbed her cell phone, found my brother’s contact information, and called him to tell him what had happened. He called her caregiver, who called 911 when he arrived. At the hospital, she was admitted and prepped for surgery. 

I’ve often heard that a hip break for the elderly can be the kiss of death. My mom herself used to tell me this when I was small as she stressed the importance of drinking milk to strengthen my bones, but I didn’t realize just how severely she would decline after this incident. 

Between her immobility, the change to her environment and routine, the surgery, new medications, and the inability to smoke, my mom’s dementia increased tenfold. It was like she aged 10 years within one week. 

From the hospital, she was moved into a rehab facility to continue physical therapy and strengthen her hip – this caused her to decline even further. It was another change; another shift in routine, another unfamiliar location. 

My siblings and I knew we had to make a decision quickly. She was no longer safe to live alone with only daytime help. Either we were going to hire her 24/7 care, which is hard to find and quite expensive, or we had to move her into a memory care facility. 

With little time to figure it out, we frantically began researching and touring facilities. It was scary, stressful, and sad… but ultimately, memory care was the right thing for her. 

Yet, I could not shake the heavy guilt I felt at doing this. “She would hate this,” I kept saying to my family. “I know she would rather die than move into one of these facilities.” 

We all agreed – but honestly – we didn’t know what else to do. 

Those days were some of the hardest of my life. I was managing her care from afar, speaking to her physical therapists, physicians, and caregivers multiple times a day, touring assisted living homes, packing up her necessary items for her impending move, filling out all the paperwork required to move her into a facility, all while fielding angry calls from her about strangers holding her against her will and stealing her cigarettes. All of this while trying to parent my kids and keep myself from physically, mentally, and emotionally drowning. 

On one particularly rough May morning, I’d gotten to my daughter’s school just in time for her grade’s orchestra performance. I was so grateful for the respite, to sit there in the comfort of the plush auditorium chair next to friends, and do nothing other than revel in the sounds of these talented 4th grade performers. 

When it was over, after I’d congratulated my sweetheart and hugged her and my friends goodbye, I hopped on a Zoom call with my siblings from the car. We were discussing the details of my mom’s move – who would do what and when. We were butting up against a deadline; she was returning from Arizona in a few days, and we had to have everything ready to go. 

The plan was to have her room at the memory care facility completely ready and to move her in straight from picking her up at the airport. We weren’t going to tell her it was a memory care, but rather a rehab facility she’d live at until her hip improved. I hated every part of this entire situation – lying to her, moving her into memory care, everything. I felt like I was betraying her on the deepest level, and it completely broke my heart. 

All of a sudden, likely between the constant stress, lack of sleep, and total overwhelm, the emotional and physical magnitude of what we were discussing became too much to bear. I began crying hysterically. I could not stop. My patient siblings waited for me to calm down and breathe. Unlike me, their kids were older – they were empty nesters – and didn’t have the pressures of also caring for three little people at home. 

In addition, I was my mom’s only biological child – her “flesh and blood” as she often called me. She was their stepmom. Which, by the way, didn’t mean she loved them any differently or less. She raised them like they were her own, and they all cared for each other deeply. I just, I don’t know, felt this immense pain and guilt that I – not them, but I – was letting her down… letting my dad down, too.  

It was my second eldest brother and his wife who’d agreed to fly down to Arizona and bring her home. This was no easy feat – one I’ll be indebted to them for doing for the rest of my life. 

As I watched my brother, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead after the long, arduous day of traveling with someone who cannot physically travel or cognitively remember where she is or where she is going at any given moment, hoist her into the front seat when I picked them up at the airport, I realized how far gone she was. 

In that instant, my heart shattered into a million fragments. 

She was no longer the same mother who raised me. She was small, disheveled, confused, and broken. I realized our roles had reversed. I was the caregiver now, and she was one in need of tenderness and protection. I wasn’t sure how, but I was going to have to figure out how to manage this sandwich – caring for my children, while also caring for her. Four needy people. I wasn’t quite sure yet where care of myself, my marriage, or any of the other facets of my life, would fit in, but I knew it all had to be part of this hefty multilayered sandwich. 

And as I drove her to her new home, the memory care facility, I played her a Spotify mix I’d created for her when she was first diagnosed with dementia. It was a myriad of her favorite songs, stemming from her childhood to the present – from the Mills Brothers and Andrews Sisters to Billy Joel’s and Rihanna’s greatest hits. She’d always loved music, and I’d read that along with scents, music can help patients with dementia feel calm and spark memories. 

I saw her clapping her hand against her lap to the beat. She had a soft smile on her face as she bopped her head gently back and forth. I had a quick flashback to sitting in the passenger seat while she drove, windows down, the two of us belting out the lyrics to whatever our favorite song at that moment happened to be. 

She may not have been the same mother, but I took solace in knowing that some things would never change.

……….  

Fast forward a bit, last January we moved my mom out of that facility, about 8 months after moving her in. It simply wasn’t the right fit, and she wasn’t being cared for in the way we’d hooped. We searched for a new place and found a lovely home with fewer residents and more of a community feel. The transition went much smoother than I thought it would, and it’s clear we made the right decision.

Though her dementia is worsening, she is thriving. She’s socializing much more, enjoys the kind staff, is eating well, and generally seems happy. It’s the best-case scenario in an otherwise difficult situation. 

As for me, I’m doing my best to take it day by day, and learning how to better take care of myself, my family, and my mom while not constantly burning the candle at both ends. I don’t have this completely figured out – it’s a definite work-in-progress – but for others also wedged in the middle of this impossible generational sandwich, here’s what is helping me… perhaps it can help you too.

• Release the guilt. You’re doing the very best you can. Know that. When it comes to dementia, my mother doesn’t remember things from one moment to the next. So the only person who feels awful when I can’t visit as often as I want to is me. She’s just happy when I show up, for however long I’m able to be there. I was killing myself trying to get there several times a week and each weekend, but with young kids, my work, my marriage, and my own needs, it became emotionally and physically overwhelming.
• Prioritize. Yes, You can do many things, but you cannot do everything, and certainly not all at the same time. I decided that my kids and family had to come first. So on any given day, if both needed me, I made the choice to attend to my kids first, and then my mom. While this isn’t always possible, it’s what I strive for.
• Ask for help. During the tougher periods of moving my mom back home and into her memory care facility, and again moving her into her second memory care facility, I had to ask for help. My husband stepped up and helped a ton, and we had to enlist our babysitter too. If you have someone you can lean on during those tough moments – a neighbor, friend, partner, caregiver, family member – do it.
• Reserve the right to change your mind. If the type of care you initially choose for your loved one isn’t working — whether it’s living with you, in a memory care facility, a nursing home or an assisted living community, etc. — just know you can change course when you see fit. When we realized the place we’d moved my mom into wasn’t right for her, my siblings and I decided to research more places and find a better fit. Though the idea of moving her again seemed completely overwhelming, it went far better than we expected, and the outcome was positive. She’s much happier in her new home, and we are too.
• Self-care. It felt impossible to squeeze in time for myself, and often still does, but the things that helped me the most were going to therapy, journaling, being physically active each day, attempting to eat as healthy as possible (not an easy feat for me!), and sneaking in time with friends.

For those of you in a similar boat, you’re not alone. It isn’t easy. It’s stressful, emotional, guilt-inducing, and so much more. But please give yourself as much grace, love, and compassion as possible. 

I’m sending all my hugs and love to you as we navigate life in the sandwich generation. While it’s been a difficult road, I’m also incredibly grateful that I can be here for her in her time of need, just like she’s always been for me.  

Marissa Bader is now a writer and author of children’s books, including The Only Me, Stella’s Brave Voice and Petunia the Perfectionist, which debuts in August 2024. Connect with her on Instagram.

Stella’s Brave Voice: Twin sisters, Stella and Paige are different in a lot of ways – especially when it comes to how much they like to talk. Stella’s always been okay with being the quiet one . . . until now. Suddenly, Stella has something to say. But can she find a way to make her own voice heard over Paige’s? And will learning to use her own brave voice hurt Paige’s feelings—and their special relationship?