Parenting doesn’t end when the lunchboxes and booster seats retire—it just changes jerseys.
I’m a millennial dad with little kids underfoot, but I’m also a son and a son-in-law watching my parents and in-laws navigate life after kids.
On my work-from-home day, I’m toggling between diaper changes and a spreadsheet—and then my phone buzzes with a well-meaning text: “We’re dropping by in 10!” from someone who raised me.
I love them and we want them close, but I’ve learned (sometimes the hard way) that closeness in this new season has different rules.
If you’re newly on the other side of bedtime stories and permission slips, this piece is for you.
Here are seven common mistakes I see empty nesters make that unintentionally push their grown kids away—and what to do instead:
1) Treating adulthood like an upgraded version of childhood
When your child graduated, did your job description change in your head?
A lot of parents keep the same settings, just with fancier vocabulary.
Instead of, “What time will you be home?” it becomes, “Have you thought through the risks of that trip?”
Same dynamic, different packaging.
I get why: You’ve spent decades keeping a small human alive.
It’s muscle memory but, when your son or daughter is an adult, your role has to move from manager to consultant.
Managers direct; consultants get invited.
What it looks like in real life:
- Manager energy: “You shouldn’t move to Denver. The rent is ridiculous.”
- Consultant energy: “If you want a sounding board as you weigh Denver vs. staying, I’m here. I’ll follow your lead.”
Boundaries are not a wall; they’re a door with a doorknob on the inside.
Adults don’t open the door for people who keep barging in.
If you offer advice, make it opt-in; if they don’t take your advice? That’s not rejection; that’s adulthood working as designed.
2) Showing up unannounced—digitally or at the front door
True story: I was rocking our baby for a nap when the doorbell rang.
The dog barked, the baby startled, and my wife and I did the silent married-couple scramble.
It was a loving surprise visit.
We appreciate the heart but, in our current season, a text first is love.
Unannounced pop-ins used to mean, “We’re comfortable.”
In adult-child land, they can read as, “Our time is more important than yours.”
That includes showing up in the digital living room—like FaceTiming repeatedly when someone doesn’t pick up or double-texting “???” after five minutes.
Treat your adult child’s life as you would a colleague you respect; ask before you arrive and lead with flexibility.
Scripts that help:
- “We’ll be near your neighborhood Saturday. Would a quick coffee work, or is this weekend tight?”
- “I’d love to FaceTime and see that new place. When’s good for you this week?”
Respecting someone’s calendar makes them feel seen.
3) Keeping a running tab of sacrifices
You gave them a childhood; you hustled, packed lunches, paid for braces, sat through middle-school band concerts.
That’s real and, sometimes, it aches when they choose friends or a partner’s family or a new city.
The mistake is making the list of sacrifices visible.
I’ve watched parents cash in emotional IOUs: “After everything we’ve done…” or “We never would’ve treated our parents like this.”
It might force a specific visit, but it costs future visits—guilt buys compliance, not closeness.
When adult kids don’t have to defend their choices, they bring their choices home to you.
No one shares freely with a scorekeeper.
4) Commenting on their partners, parenting, or bodies
Nothing drives a wedge faster than unsolicited commentary on the three Ps: Partner, parenting, and physical appearance.
I’ve seen a single remark about a spouse’s tone or a child’s bedtime routine land like a grenade.
Same with weight, hair, clothing—anything body-related.
If your adult child has a partner, assume that relationship is the inner circle; if they’re parenting, assume they have a plan you don’t see.
However, if you’re worried about something serious (safety, neglect), that’s different—address it gently, once, and with care.
Most of the time, the feedback is taste disguised as wisdom.
When in doubt, remember Brené Brown’s line: “Clear is kind. Unclear is unkind.”
Clear kindness is, “We adore you and want to be a soft place to land,” while clear unkindness is back-doored judgment.
5) Expecting the old family calendar to keep running
Sunday dinners, holiday traditions, that exact beach week you’ve booked since 2003—those rhythms matter.
Yet your adult kids now have two realities: The family they grew up in and the family they’re growing.
Even if they’re single, their work, friends, and finances create a new orbit.
One December I watched two grandparents duke it out over Christmas morning.
The adult kids smiled, nodded, then quietly made plans to spend the holiday out of town next year.
Not because they didn’t love anyone—but because being put in the middle is exhausting.
Shift from ownership to invitation:
- Rotate holiday locations or dates, like Christmas waffles on the 26th taste just as good;
- Create a “tradition menu” and let the next generation pick two or three they love, and;
- Offer travel stipends if you can swing it, or bring the party to them, low-maintenance style.
If tradition asks for sacrifice from the youngest generation every time, it’s not tradition—it’s control in a costume.
6) Making help heavy
My mom is a champion casserole-maker.
When she brings food after a rough week, it feels like a hug.
However, when that help comes with hidden strings—“Since we cooked, can you host game night Friday? And we’ll stay late”—it gets complicated.
Empty nesters often have more time and, sometimes, more resources.
That generosity is gold, but the mistake is using help to purchase proximity.
Adult kids can feel the invoice, even if it’s unspoken.
If you need something—say so plainly.
“We miss you two. Could we take you to dinner this month? We’ll work around you.”
That’s cleaner than bundling need into a favor.
7) Refusing to grow alongside them
Here’s the quiet truth none of us want to admit: Sometimes grown kids pull back not because of the old mistakes above, but because they’re changing—and their parents aren’t.
I’m not talking about music preferences, but about emotional growth.
When my wife and I do our weekly calendar sync, we also do a tiny “repair” round: What worked, what didn’t, and where did we step on each other’s toes?
I wish I’d seen more of that modeled growing up.
A lot of parents assume relational patterns are set in stone: Dad jokes, Mom hints, nobody apologizes first.
Adult children thrive when they see you doing what you once asked of them—learning, apologizing, and adapting.
What this growth looks like:
- Learning your adult child’s communication style and adjusting;
- Apologizing without the “but,” and;
- Getting curious about therapy, coaching, or a couples class—the same way you might try a new pickleball league.
As the marriage researcher John Gottman often notes, relationships are built on small “bids” for connection—tiny attempts to reach each other.
Notice their bids (“Can I vent for two minutes?”) and respond generously.
That micro-repair work pays compounding interest.
Closing thoughts
As a dad in the trenches right now, I’m trying to build the kind of relationship with my kids that will still work when they’re packing apartments and catching flights home for the holidays.
These habits we practice while they’re little—asking before advising, sharing the load without keeping score, repairing quickly—are the same habits that make adult relationships sturdy.
The empty nest can echo or it can sing.
If you avoid these seven traps and choose curiosity over control, clarity over guilt, and generosity over strings, you give your adult children the best gift there is: A home they still want to come back to, not because they have to, but because it feels good to be there.
