Care and Feeding is Slate’s parenting advice column. Have a question for Care and Feeding? Submit it here.
Dear Care and Feeding,
I have a 15-year-old son, “Casey,” and a 7-year-old daughter, “Cathy.” For the past few weeks, Cathy had been waking up frequently, saying she heard something in the night. (She was convinced “a monster” was coming into the house. I promised her it wasn’t, assured her that monsters can’t get in to our house, and kept to myself the thought that it was possible an animal was managing to get in somehow, since we live in a semi-rural area. I did check, but I saw no evidence of that.) Then, last Tuesday at about 1 a.m., I heard something. I removed my gun from the safe and went slowly through the house. When I reached the living room, I saw Casey and another boy from the neighborhood, “Alex,” shirtless on the couch, making out. (I honestly don’t know who was more surprised, the kids or me, but I immediately pointed the gun away.) Casey and Alex were both freaking out, babbling, trying to get their shirts back on. Alex left; I sent Casey to bed.
The next day, my wife and I had a somewhat awkward coming-out discussion with Casey. We made it clear we don’t have any problem with Casey liking boys, but we told him we couldn’t have him sneaking around: If he wanted to bring a boyfriend over, he could just invite him. The trouble is that Alex doesn’t want to come over anymore. (I suppose I can’t blame him.) And Casey going over to Alex’s isn’t an option, as Alex’s parents apparently don’t know their son is gay, and according to Casey, they are not the sort of people who would react well to that news. I feel as if I ought to relay an apology to Alex, but I’m not sure what to say or if it would even do any good if I can’t say it to him directly. I would like to talk to him and smooth this over. How do I go about fixing this?
—Really Stepped in It
Dear Stepped in It,
First of all, if you want to apologize to Alex, just do it. If it isn’t safe for Alex to get a text or voice message from you (surely Casey will know the answer to that—though if Alex’s parents check his phone, I wonder how the kids communicate with each other when they’re not together), write an apology and ask Casey to hand it over in school. That’s much better than asking him to relay that you’re sorry. But all of this begs the question of what exactly you mean to apologize for. Walking in on them? (Parents walking in on teenagers fooling around is a time-honored, if embarrassing for all concerned, tradition.) Pointing a gun at them? Having a gun? Whatever you’re sorry for, say it (and mean it), and then you can tell him you’d be glad to have him come over and visit Casey whenever the two of them like. Make sure you mean this, too. It would be ugly to say that and not mean it.
But I must say this: If Alex doesn’t want to come over to your house, so be it. (If someone pointed a gun at me, even by mistake, I would never cross their threshold again.) If Casey can’t go over to Alex’s, so be that too. They can go out for coffee, take walks in the park, go to the movies, go to an arcade, go to the same parties, etc. If kids want to make out with each other, they find a way. Besides: How and where to spend time together is their problem to solve, not yours. I’m glad your love and support for your son is not conditional on his being straight. But as much as you want to fix this, don’t try to micromanage his relationships.
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Dear Care and Feeding,
My mom and I haven’t been on the best terms for a while. She doesn’t accept that I’m queer even though I’ve been out for five years now, she dismisses my beliefs as “naïve,” and she judges me for the double degree I’m about to graduate with despite the fact that I clearly love the work (because neither field is known for good pay). There are other, smaller disagreements, like her conviction that if you’re not being productive 24/7, you’re useless, which I don’t share. It’s gotten to the point that whenever she asks me about my life, I have to run through a mental list of subjects I have to dance around in order to avoid her judgment—but those are the most important parts of my life!
I’m sick of having to pretend I’m someone I’m not in order to get any respect from her. I want to try family therapy with her, but I don’t know how to approach that conversation. I know if I’m honest and say anything like, “I feel disrespected to the point where I’m starting to feel like I might as well not be a part of this family,” she’ll get defensive and dismiss my feelings as ridiculous and irrational (as she has done in the past any time I tried to calmly talk to her about our relationship). I’ve attempted to get my brother to suggest the idea to her, as he’s well aware of how distant my relationship with our mom has become, but it’s been almost half a year and he hasn’t brought it up to her. I want to feel like I have a mom again, not a manager I have to lie to in order to get a raise.
—Mom’s Love Feels Conditional
Dear Conditional,
I’m sorry you and your mom are at loggerheads, and that you feel disrespected. I’m even sorrier to hear that you’ve felt you had no choice but to lie to her about who you are and what matters to you. You don’t say, but I’m guessing you still live at home or are entirely financially dependent on her—and that’s what complicates your desire to be honest with her: You fear that if you don’t toe the line, she’ll cut you off.
It’s interesting to me that you say you want to feel like you have a mom again, which suggests that you’re longing for a time when you were younger and your mother and you were more aligned (or you both thought you were). As children grow up (and if you’re in the process of earning a double degree, I’m going to assume that you are over 18, and perhaps even in your early 20s—so pretty grown up), they often diverge from their parents’ plans for them, their parents’ beliefs, their parents’ politics, and so on. It may be hard for your mom to accept that, but that doesn’t mean you have to, or should, pretend to be the 13-year-old you once were. If your mother withdraws her love because you have changed and are in the process of becoming a full-grown adult, then her love was never unconditional. You’re nostalgic for, and longing for, something that never really existed.
This is a hard pill to swallow, for sure. And it’s made tougher by your fear that—as I say, I’m guessing—she’ll withdraw financial or other practical support if she knows the “real you.” So you are faced with a stark choice: Keep pretending and feeling “disrespected” so that you keep the status quo for now (you’ll have to decide when you will be willing to see that end—when you graduate? Ever?) or let her (make her!) get to know you, and deal with the consequences.
It would be great if you could do the latter in a safe, supportive setting—in family therapy, as you mention, for example. But your mother will react badly if you’re confrontational. Saying, “I feel like I might as well not be a part of this family” is not a path to getting someone to agree to therapy. Nor is having your brother be the one to propose it. This is between you and your mom. Tell your mother you’d like to go to family therapy with her because you’d like your relationship to be better. This explanation has the advantage of being true. If she retorts that there’s nothing wrong with your relationship and claims you’re being “ridiculous,” tell her it doesn’t seem that way to you. And if she scoffs and demands a list of grievances, you might just say, “I don’t feel like I can be myself with you. And I want to. I want us to be close.” Don’t let this turn into a pointless argument (“We are close”/“We’re not!”). Instead of fighting with her, tell her quietly, again, that it doesn’t seem that way to you.
If, on the other hand, she says “I’m your mother, not your friend,”—essentially, We’re not supposed to be close—and/or flat-out refuses your request for family therapy, then you have your answer: She doesn’t want to know the real you, she isn’t interested in feeling closer to you, and she doesn’t see your happiness as a priority. If so, what you need to work on is making peace with that, not on forcing a relationship with her. You may need to move out, if you’re still at home, and find another way to finance your education—or else you’ll have to tough it out for a few more years. The one thing you won’t be able to do is change her.
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Dear Care and Feeding,
My spouse (NB) and I (F) are in our early 30s. In premarital counseling, seven years ago, we agreed that we both want to adopt kids, as long as we are stable enough (financially and healthwise) to give our children a safe, loving home that meets their needs. We’ve stayed on the same page since. Our trouble is this: We are neither as healthy nor as financially secure as we hoped we’d be by this age. We’ve had significant health and career setbacks, mostly due to long COVID, inflation, and mass layoffs, as well as personal tragedies. We now both have chronic medical conditions, and we stay afloat with freelance work we can adapt to our schedules to prioritize personal health care. We’re OK financially, but we’d hoped to secure an FHA loan and buy a house by next year. Now it looks like that won’t happen for a few years yet (and then only if we don’t experience any more unexpected setbacks).
My question is this: When is it OK to lower one’s own standard of health or financial stability when it comes to adopting kids? I have been exploring resources like Rooted in Rights’ “Parenting Without Pity,” to examine how other people with disabilities manage to be good parents. I’ve read about different mindsets and resources, pod mapping, and building mutual aid among lower income and working class families. Basically, I have been coming around to the idea that we may have originally set our minimum bar “to give a kid a good life,” too high, and we had maybe made classist or ableist assumptions that are worth re-thinking. I am not naïve enough to think, “All you need is love,” but I do believe we can provide enough of what matters most—genuine love, attention, and care—for a child to thrive, even if our resources are more limited than we hoped. But my spouse disagrees (or, at least is more hesitant and skeptical than I am). They grew up impoverished, and they tend to feel that even if we passed all classes, got good referrals, and passed the home study, it would still be harmful to a child to bring them into our home if we aren’t squarely middle class. Neither of us have ever been parents, of course, so we’re hoping you can offer some perspective. Is it OK to lower the bar? If so, what should we have in place?
—Broke and Hoping to Parent
Dear Hoping,
You made the bar yourself. You can lower it or raise it as you see fit. Everybody who thoughtfully ventures into becoming a parent figures out what they need to “have in place.” There are plenty of people who set a financial bar; there are others who believe that money is the least of it, and what they want to be sure of is their own emotional/psychological readiness to be good parents, and their understanding of what that entails. For some people, the bar is simply “find someone to parent with me whom I know I can rely on”—whether that’s a spouse, romantic partner, best friend, or (I happen to know someone who is doing this successfully and very happily) their own parent. And for others, who go it alone, it’s “I feel ready and able to take this on,” in whatever ways matter most to them.
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In other words, there is no answer to your question that anyone but you two can provide. Since you’re not quiteon the same page right now, you will need to hash this out thoroughly. (Therapy may help.) Your spouse’s experience of their childhood—indeed, their trauma—informs their belief that a middle-class upbringing is essential for a child’s happiness and well-being. They’re aware of that, I assume. But they also know, I imagine, that being middle class doesn’t equal happiness, and that there is no straightforward relationship between amount of money and amount of happiness (if there were, the 1 percent would all be happy people—and I can assure you they are not). Growing up in poverty can be a hardship, to be sure, and I don’t know what your spouse experienced in childhood. But I would say that if you have a safe place to live—which absolutely does not have to be a house you own!—can feed yourselves and your child, and provide health care for them and you, you will be able to do right by your child if you love and nurture and support them, make sure they feel secure, listen and talk to them, validate their feelings, give them responsibilities and choices, and offer plenty of opportunities for them to play and create and learn. That’s the standard I’d hew to.
—Michelle
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