I did not expect becoming the parent of adult children to feel more complicated than raising them in the first place.
When my kids were young, the rules were clear. I was responsible, they were dependent, and love mostly looked like guidance, structure, and protection.
Somewhere along the way, though, that dynamic stopped working, and neither of us had a clear script for what was supposed to replace it.
My millennial kids no longer needed me in the ways they once did, but they still needed me. Learning the difference took time, humility, and more self restraint than I anticipated.
There were moments of tension, moments of silence, and moments where I realized that good intentions alone were not enough to sustain a healthy relationship.
What ultimately changed things was not a single conversation or a dramatic turning point. It was a shift in how I understood my role and what I was willing to adjust.
The boundaries that followed did not push us apart. They allowed our relationship to mature into something steadier, more respectful, and far more rewarding than I expected.
1. I stopped giving unsolicited advice
This was the big one, the game-changer that my younger son specifically called out.
For years, I’d hear about a problem they were facing and immediately launch into solution mode. New job stress? Here’s what you should do. Relationship trouble? Let me tell you how to handle it.
What I thought was helpful parenting was actually suffocating them. They weren’t teenagers anymore who needed constant direction. They were grown adults who sometimes just wanted to vent to their dad without getting a TED talk in return.
Now, when they share something with me, I bite my tongue. Hard. Instead of jumping in with solutions, I ask, “Are you looking for advice, or do you just need someone to listen?” You’d be amazed how often it’s the latter.
2. I let them make their own mistakes
Watching your adult children make what you consider poor decisions is torture.
When my older son decided to leave a stable job to start his own business right after his first child was born, every fiber of my being wanted to sit him down and explain why this was terrible timing.
But I didn’t. And you know what? He figured it out. The business struggled at first, sure, but he adapted, learned, and eventually made it work. More importantly, he owned every bit of that success because I hadn’t tried to steer the ship for him.
Your kids need to own their choices, good and bad. That’s how they grow. That’s how they become confident in their own judgment. And that’s how they stop resenting you for always knowing better.
3. I established my own boundaries too
Here’s something nobody tells you about parenting adults: boundaries work both ways.
For years, I’d drop everything whenever my kids needed something. Middle of dinner? Sure, I’ll help you move that couch. Weekend plans? Canceled, because you need a babysitter.
Linda, my wife of thirty-eight years, finally pointed out that I was teaching them it was okay to treat my time as less valuable than theirs. She was right, as usual.
Now, I help when I can, but I also say no when I need to. “Sorry, we have plans that day” or “I can help, but not until next weekend” are complete sentences. And guess what? They respect me more for it, not less.
4. I apologized for specific things I got wrong
This one was tough for my generation. We were raised to believe that parents admitting mistakes somehow undermined our authority. But holding onto that mindset was keeping doors locked that needed to open.
I sat down with each of my sons separately and apologized for specific things. Not vague “I’m sorry if I wasn’t perfect” nonsense, but real apologies.
“I’m sorry for missing so many of your games because of work.” “I’m sorry for comparing you to your brother.” “I’m sorry for not listening when you tried to tell me you were struggling in college.”
Those conversations were uncomfortable, even painful. But they cleared the air in a way that years of pretending everything was fine never could have. Turns out, our kids don’t need us to be perfect. They need us to be human.
5. I stopped treating them like they’re still kids
This sounds obvious, but it’s surprisingly hard to do.
I’d still find myself asking if they’d eaten enough vegetables or reminding them to get their oil changed. At family dinners, I’d cut in when they were telling a story to add context or corrections, like they couldn’t possibly tell it right themselves.
These little things add up. They send the message that you don’t trust them to handle basic life tasks or even tell their own stories.
Now, I treat them like I would any other adult friend. I don’t quiz them about their health habits or financial decisions unless they bring it up.
6. I learned to respect their parenting choices
When you become a grandparent, the urge to share your wisdom about child-rearing is overwhelming. After all, you raised kids successfully, right? They turned out fine!
But times change. Parenting philosophies evolve. What worked in the 1990s might not be the best approach now. When I see my sons doing something differently than I would have, I keep quiet unless they specifically ask for input.
Their kids, their rules. Even when I think they’re being too lenient or too strict. Even when they let the grandkids have more screen time than I think is healthy. It’s not my call anymore.
7. I focused on building an adult friendship with them
For so long, our entire relationship was built on the parent-child dynamic. But adult children don’t need another parent. They need a friend who happens to be their dad.
So I started treating them that way. We talk about things beyond their problems or responsibilities. Sports, politics, movies, work stories from my HR days that I couldn’t share when they were younger.
I ask about their interests and actually listen. I share my own struggles and victories, not as lessons but as conversation.
Sometimes we grab a beer together, just the three of us. No agenda, no life lessons, just three adults enjoying each other’s company.
Closing thoughts
By stepping back from the constant parent role, I actually became closer to my sons. They seek my input now because they want it, not because I force it on them.
If you’re struggling with adult children who seem distant or frustrated with you, maybe it’s time to examine your boundaries. Are you still trying to parent them like they’re teenagers? Are you respecting them as the adults they’ve become?
The hardest part of parenting might just be knowing when to stop parenting and start simply being present. But trust me, when you get it right, the relationship that emerges is worth every uncomfortable boundary-setting conversation along the way.
