My family of origin was not big on multigenerational living.
There would be the (very) occasional overnight stay at our grandparents’, where we definitely felt like guests. It never would have occurred to us to bring sleeping bags for visiting cousins; that’s what hotels were for. My frazzled parents guarded their privacy. It was all they could do to keep track of my two sisters and me, much less entertain company. And so, I spent my childhood in a very small world.
Things changed after I got married. My husband had grown up in a big, very convivial family; he was one of five siblings, and had 65 first cousins, most of whom lived near him. When we visited, we were expected to stay at his parents’ house (and not in a hotel), and spend a lot of time with his siblings and cousins.
When we eventually had our own five children, I was ready to welcome our kids’ friends for meals and sleepovers. Still, I couldn’t foresee anyone beyond our nuclear family residing with us permanently.
I assumed we’d be empty nesters
As our five offspring became adults, I just assumed that they’d be flying to their own nests. I thought ahead to retirement, and the joys of not sharing a bathroom, and not cooking for a crowd every night. It did cross my mind that the silence might become a bit deafening, after decades of mostly happy chaos. But it was the natural order of things, and I guessed we’d get used to a bit of loneliness. True to my prediction, the kids went away to college, and most of them went on to jobs and apartments a distance from home.
But our nest did not remain empty. Our oldest son and his fiancée asked if they could live with us. I understood that multigenerational living was more common in our future daughter-in-law’s culture, who is Taiwanese, and we loved her very much, so we agreed.
We made sure everyone had privacy
We soon settled into a comfortable pattern. Our house isn’t very large, but we made sure to give everyone as much space and privacy as possible. All four adults were working full-time, gathering for dinner in the evening to share stories from their days. As a bonus, our son and his wife are professional classical musicians, so we were regularly treated to the beautiful sounds of violin, piano, and flute.
In the summers, my husband and I would separate for a while when we lived at the Delaware shore and produced a children’s theatre there. I’m sure the young couple enjoyed their time alone, and the breaks were good for all of us.
A few years later, our first grandson was born. Once more, we were baby-proofing a house and experiencing the delights and challenges of a newborn. Luckily, we were on the same page regarding child-rearing duties. My husband and I were glad to spend lots of time with the baby and were always available in a pinch, but we were not willing to provide permanent, full-time childcare. There was no resentment about this at all. The little guy would often accompany his Mama and Baba to their music jobs. Sometimes a teenage sitter would be hired to help. I deeply appreciated this, and things ran quite smoothly.
Now, 11 years down the road, two more grandsons have been added to the mix. We’re still a household of seven, but instead of two adults and five children, we are now four adults and three children. We adore being Nana and Pa, and are grateful for the seamless way we grownups share chores, household expenses, and grocery shopping. The children are being raised beautifully by their parents, so I’m not tempted to interfere. Whenever a conflict arises, parents and grandparents promptly sit down and discuss it.
At this point, we’re happy to remain together as long as we are able. The boys love their schools, and watching them play in the same neighborhood their father did is pure joy.
Our retirement years may not be what I used to picture them, but I wouldn’t trade our blended lives for anything. Not even my own bathroom.
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