Care and Feeding is Slate’s parenting advice column. Have a question for Care and Feeding? Submit it here or post it in the Slate Parenting Facebook group.
Dear Care and Feeding,
My husband is very involved with the kids. He’s a good father—he does the hard parts of parenting, happily. He also loves video games of all sorts: war games, strategy games, simulation games—whatever he can get his hands on. Our kids are 13, 11, and 7, and they’re all really into gaming with Dad.
Video games don’t really speak to me, and no matter how much I try, I’ve never really been able to get into them. As a result, I always feel like I’m just tagging along. Whenever we do things as a family, they just talk about video games to each other the whole time, and I feel boxed out of the conversation. It’s telling that when my husband goes on a business trip, 13 texts him, and 11 and 7 want to call him every day to talk about video game stuff, but when I’m away on business and want to talk to them, I have to ask, they don’t particularly care.
The video games aren’t hurting the kids—they’re still healthy, they’re active enough, and they have a strong relationship with each other. None of them are hurting for friends, either—video games even helped 11 make friends since he’s very shy and it provided a bonding point. When I’ve talked to my husband about this, he doesn’t think it’s an issue. He points out that he would be in my position if we had three very sporty kids.
I have a good relationship with the kids individually. I’m involved with 13’s swim team, 11 loves dinosaurs and I work in science education, and 7 loves princesses and dressing up. But if all three of them are together, I feel left out. I’m just tired of going out to eat and sitting in silence as my family talks about something I can’t relate to at all, or sitting in the car with headphones in listening to a podcast of my choice as my husband and the kids talk for the entirety of the 2-hour drive to my in-law’s house. I want to feel like I’m part of the family as a whole.
—Alone at Home
Dear Alone at Home,
I FEEL YOUR PAIN. During pandemic lockdown, I created a Roblox account in a desperate attempt to entertain my son, and have never been so bored out of my mind as I was letting him drive me around an imaginary but mundane city in his virtual car. He, however, was ecstatic during every second that Mom forced herself to play.
I’m not saying you have to submit yourself to doing something that bores you, but there are so many different genres and types of video games that I bet you could find some way to connect with your kids on their turf. Even I eventually found one or two Roblox games I could get into. There are games based in your field of science education, dancing and singing games, throwback games you may have enjoyed when you were a kid. Why not make it a family competition, to find the video game that their other parent will enjoy? Even if they never succeed in making you a gamer, the process will be a fun way to involve you in the family pastime.
Either way, kids absolutely love it when their parents are willing to engage with their interests. Parents throughout the ages have been bored listening to monologues about everything from Legos to vehicles to the best YouTubers, but taking the time to occasionally ask a question about something they’re passionate about, and really listen to (if not fully understand) what they have to say about it, can create moments of genuine connection that will mean everything to your kids.
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Dear Care and Feeding,
My MIL is a very open person with her feelings. She regularly tells me in person and via text that she loves me. Is it weird that I just can’t bring myself to say the same? I’m extremely thankful for her and her willingness to help out, with my kids especially, and appreciate having her as part of my life, but I don’t know that I would say I love her. I had a very complicated and emotionally abusive relationship with both of my own parents, so I think a deep-rooted inability to trust parental relationships is probably the cause. Should I talk to her about this and try to explain why it’s difficult for me or just keep deflecting if I can’t feel it or say it myself? For reference, my husband was in the military and passed away 5 years ago, so handling this relationship dynamic is squarely on me.
—Is It Rude to Just Say Thank You?
Dear Rude to Say Thank You,
It’s OK and understandable that you don’t feel comfortable using the L-word, but I wonder if you can express your feelings to your mother-in-law in other ways, just like you did in this letter? “I’m extremely thankful for you” and “I am so happy you’re a part of my life” are both meaningful sentiments I bet she’d love to hear.
Alternately, perhaps you’d feel more comfortable writing how you feel in a card or text? Whether it’s the big L or a more general expression of gratitude, putting it into a letter can be easier than saying it out loud. Or, if that’s still too much, could you take an action that shows that you appreciate her? Gift her with flowers or something you know she’d like or make another gesture that says “You mean a lot to me” without having to actually put it into icky, scary emotion words. Loving and caring for you may be a way for her to stay connected to the son that she lost, and accepting it could be a powerful way for you to honor your husband’s memory.
Given that the emotional abuse you experienced in childhood is continuing to affect you as an adult, I think it would be worth seeking some kind of psychological support, like therapy, to help you work through its lasting impact. Ultimately, the best thing you can do for your kids is to work on healing yourself, ensuring the generational trauma ends with you.
From last week’s letter, My Heath Fanatic Husband Is Driving Our Kids Away, “His mother recently passed away. Now he’s obsessed with our kids’ health and safety, and it’s really doing something strange to them.”
Dear Care and Feeding,
I’ve been a part-time nanny to a really great 3-and-a-half-year-old named Annie for about a year now. In our time together, she’s really developed a lot socially and verbally, and it’s been so fun to have real sustained conversations together. One thing that’s been coming up lately that makes me really nervous is that she’s in a phase of telling untrue stories for shock effect. The other day she told me a very detailed story about how her mom and dad left on a plane together for a whole week and she stayed home all by herself. I responded with “Hmm, I heard your mom went on a plane to see Grandma, but Dad stayed home to take care of you!” and she just insisted they both went away. She wasn’t in distress or expressing abandonment, it was more like she was trying to get me to say, “OMG, no way, I can’t believe that!”
The part that makes me nervous right now is that she could make up stories about me! I have a great relationship with her parents and we spend about 20 minutes all together at the beginning and end of my shifts, so there’s a lot of trust there. But yesterday on our way to the park, we held hands to cross the street, looked both ways and crossed together with an extremely distant car in sight. Annie gasped and said, “THAT CAR ALMOST HIT US” even though there were two blocks and one roundabout between us and the car. I’m really nervous that she might start telling her parents stories about me crossing busy streets, abandoning her at the park, or otherwise putting her at risk. Obviously, I think parents should believe their kids when they report unsafe adults, so I’m hesitant to say, “Annie’s been making stuff up, so if you ever hear anything concerning me, it’s not true.”
How would you recommend approaching this with her parents? What should I say in the moment to discourage telling stories that could create confusion for real-life people?
—Nervous Nanny
Dear Nervous Nanny,
According to the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry, making up stories is a normal activity for kids Annie’s age, and probably not cause for serious concern. After all, these lies aren’t really hurting anyone, it’s more like she’s playing pretend. She probably is trying to impress you or get attention with her made-up adventures, or she might simply have trouble differentiating between her rich inner fantasy life and reality. These “tall tales,” which are more imaginative and playful than the deliberate lies older children might tell, are a necessary part of a child’s development, and experts actually say to encourage this kind of pretend play in children under 4.
You can humor her with a wink by saying something like, “Wow, I can’t believe you stayed home all by yourself—what did you have for dinner?” Or you might celebrate her creativity without encouraging her to be untruthful by saying something like, “That’s a great story,” possibly even illustrating and writing it down in a book together. If one of Annie’s stories feels like it has the potential to cause real-life confusion or harm, you can push back by asking, “Did that happen in real life or is it just pretend?” Rather than scolding or accusing her of lying, gently differentiate between truth and fiction by saying something like, “Wouldn’t it be exciting/scary/fun/unexpected if that really happened?” In a pinch, there’s always the old classic “The Boy Who Cried Wolf,” but while it does illustrate that lying can have serious consequences, it’s also sort of upsetting—what’s with the sheep massacre and all?
I’m guessing Annie’s parents are fully aware she’s going through this phase, but if you’re still feeling worried, it couldn’t hurt to casually mention that you’ve noticed Annie has been extra “imaginative” lately, perhaps relaying what she told you about staying home alone for a week to the rents as a funny anecdote from the day. Given that I’ve met kids this age who fully insisted they were kitty cats or unicorns, parents are used to taking their more fantastical pronouncements with a hefty grain of salt.
Dear Care and Feeding,
I had back surgery 10 years ago. At the time, the choice was between having surgery or most likely becoming a paraplegic. So, of course I had surgery. Unfortunately, it left me with chronic pain that’s only partially managed. Because of that, I have struggled to maintain employment.
Over the last three years, I have obtained three different jobs, none of which I’ve been able to hold onto for more than a few months. Things start out great, then invariably, my health issues flare up and I have to resign. On my doctor’s advice, I am applying for disability. The limited income disability benefits will provide isn’t enough to meet all our bills. So, my 80-year-old father has offered to let us move in with him. The whole experience has left me feeling embarrassed, ashamed, and definitely much less valuable as a member of society and in my role as a mother and provider.
My concern is for my children. I have 16-year-old boy/girl twins. Both have chronic health issues of their own. My daughter has multiple autoimmune diseases, including Type 1 diabetes. My son is autistic but considered “high functioning.”
They’ve watched my health and employment struggles their entire life. Which has left both of them afraid to enter the workforce themselves. They’re worried their own experiences will be like mine even though I’ve tried my best to teach them to advocate for themselves. What more can I do to help them?
—I’m More Than My Disability
Dear More Than My Disability,
It’s not surprising that you have these feelings of shame and decreased worth, since we live in an extremely ableist society that stigmatizes disability and treats health and wellness like moral virtues. But it’s important to show your kids that disabilities and other chronic health conditions don’t have to keep them from meeting their goals—they just might need a little extra help to get there.
To that end, your chronic pain may be covered under the Americans With Disabilities Act (ADA), in which case you would be entitled to reasonable accommodations in the workplace to make it possible for you to perform your job duties during a flare-up. If you decide at some point to reenter the workforce, the Job Accommodation Network (JAN) provides extensive guidance on potential accommodations you may be entitled to, as well as practical advice on how to ask an employer for them.
If you don’t want to pass it along to your kids, start by confronting your internalized stigma about your disability. It might help to join a support group where you could talk to others with similar experiences. The American Chronic Pain Association and the U.S. Pain Foundation list both in-person and online support groups. Let your kids see you caring for yourself, whether it’s weekly acupuncture, morning yoga, or taking medication. In this way, you’ll model for them that people with disabilities can be perfectly capable—they just might need a little extra support. And there’s absolutely nothing shameful about asking for it.
—Emily
My husband is the math/science person in the house, while I’m the reading/art person. My boys think my husband is “the smart one.” They have asked for help, then stopped and said, “I’ll ask Daddy. He’s smart,” or “He’ll know how to fix/do this,” even when it’s something I’ve fixed/done before. My husband is very intelligent, but I’ve been trying to understand why the boys feel like I’m not. I know they love me, but I don’t feel like they really respect me as a thinking human being.
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