Picture two grown children calling their parents to plan a holiday visit.
One lights up at the thought, already excited about long talks over coffee and watching their kids play with grandma. The other takes a deep breath, mentally preparing for the subtle criticisms, the questions about life choices, and the exhausting dance of keeping everyone happy.
What makes the difference? After years of navigating this with my own parents and now raising two little ones myself, I’ve realized it comes down to something surprisingly simple.
The parents whose adult children genuinely want to visit are the ones who make those visits about connection.
The ones whose kids show up out of obligation? They’re still trying to control.
When visits feel like performance reviews
You know the feeling: You walk through your parents’ door and suddenly you’re being evaluated on everything from your career choices to how you’re raising your kids.
Every conversation becomes a chance for them to offer “helpful suggestions” about what you should be doing differently.
My own parents used to do this with my approach to parenting. The cloth diapers, the co-sleeping, the limited screen time – they’d raise their eyebrows and make little comments about my “hippie parenting.”
Every visit felt like I had to defend my choices or pretend things were different than they really were. It was exhausting.
The controlling parent sees visits as opportunities to shape, fix, or improve their adult children. They might not even realize they’re doing it.
In their minds, they’re just being helpful, sharing wisdom, staying involved. But what their adult children experience is judgment, pressure, and the feeling that they’re never quite good enough.
Creating space for real connection
Parents who focus on connection understand something crucial: their adult children are complete people with their own valid choices, experiences, and wisdom.
These parents have made a fundamental shift from seeing themselves as authorities to seeing themselves as companions on the journey.
When my daughter helps me in the garden, getting dirt under her nails and carefully sorting leaves into piles, I’m glimpsing her future self: Someone with her own passions and ways of moving through the world.
If I want her to enjoy coming home as an adult, I need to start practicing now. That means being curious about who she’s becoming rather than trying to mold her into who I think she should be.
Think about the last really good conversation you had with someone.
Chances are, they asked genuine questions, listened without immediately offering solutions, and shared their own experiences without making them prescriptive.
That’s what connection looks like: Two people meeting as equals, sharing their lives without trying to direct each other’s choices.
The questions that change everything
Here’s what I’ve noticed: Controlling parents ask questions that feel like traps.
“Are you still doing that organic food thing?” or “When are you going to get a real job?” or “Don’t you think the kids need more structure?”
These are judgments dressed up in question marks.
Parents who prioritize connection ask different questions entirely.
“How’s that new recipe you mentioned working out?” or “What’s exciting you about work these days?” or “What’s bedtime like at your house?”
They’re genuinely curious, not gathering ammunition for later advice-giving.
Growing up, my family ate together every night, but our conversations stayed surface-level.
We talked about schedules and logistics, rarely diving into how we actually felt about anything. Now I wonder if my parents were afraid of what might come up if they asked real questions, or if they simply didn’t know how.
Letting go of the parenting role
This might be the hardest part: recognizing that your job as an active parent is essentially over once your kids are adults.
You’re not retired completely—you’re still their parent—but the role has fundamentally changed.
You’ve moved from director to consultant, and consultants only give advice when asked.
I watch my two-year-old building forts out of couch cushions, completely absorbed in his own creative world.
Right now, he needs me to keep him safe, teach him kindness, help him understand boundaries.
But, someday, he’ll be building his own life, and my job will be to admire his construction, not redesign it.
Parents who can’t make this shift often justify their control as love. “I just want what’s best for you,” they say, while systematically undermining their adult child’s confidence in their own judgment.
However, love without respect is possession.
Building bridges instead of walls
When parents focus on control, every disagreement becomes a battle line.
Adult children learn to hide parts of their lives, avoid certain topics, or present edited versions of themselves.
The relationship becomes increasingly hollow, built on what’s left unsaid rather than what’s shared.
Yet, when connection is the goal, differences become interesting rather than threatening.
My parents are slowly coming around to my parenting style, not because I convinced them, but because I stopped trying to convince them.
I set boundaries about what advice I was open to receiving, and then I just lived my life. They got curious. They started asking real questions. The walls started coming down.
This means you respect their right to make those choices and trust the foundation you laid during their childhood.
If you did your job well, they have the tools they need. Now let them use them.
Final thoughts
The truth is, we’re all still learning.
I’m trying to raise my kids with “connection over perfection” as my north star, but I know I’ll make mistakes.
I’ll probably catch myself being controlling sometimes, trying to shape their choices long after it’s appropriate.
But here’s what gives me hope: Awareness is the first step toward change.
If you’re reading this and recognizing some controlling patterns in your relationship with your adult children, you’re already on your way to something better.
Start with one genuine question, one moment of pure curiosity about who they are rather than who you want them to be.
Your adult children need you to be something much more valuable and much more rare: A parent who sees them, accepts them, and genuinely enjoys their company.
That’s the kind of parent whose children can’t wait to come home.
