What Multigenerational Living Is Really Like

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A thumping sound escapes from my 44-year-old daughter’s headphones as she applies her makeup in the bathroom she shares with my mother and granddaughter.

From my office, recently converted into a bedroom, comes the melodic voice of a French professor as my granddaughter attends her college class via a video call. Business news blares in the master bedroom where my husband is absorbed in the stock market.

My elderly mother sits in her recliner reading out loud the closed captions of a Hallmark movie, asking every few minutes when my dad, who passed away 13 years ago, is going to appear on the TV.

I stare out the window at a hummingbird hovering by the feeder, wondering how my world went from the peace and quiet of an empty nest to the chaos and confusion of multigenerational living in less than a year.

As I stand there, my 14-year-old grandson skids into the kitchen, giving me a playful punch in the arm. “Lock it in, Grandma,” he says, and hurries off to annoy his mother.

I usually have no idea what my grandson is talking about. But since most slang derives from words already in our vocabulary, I realize he’s telling me to go with the flow, lock into the moment.

So far, I’ve lived through a zillion of these moments, as my family members moved into our home one by one due to several factors: financial issues, world situations and aging.

My mother was the first to arrive with all her clothes, bedroom furniture and nonstop talking. The cost of living at her retirement village had become astronomical, and we knew that once she needed caregiving, the cost would be astronomical times 10.

Next came my granddaughter. The pandemic threw a curveball into her senior year of high school and college plans. Issues with her parents brought her to our house. Several months later, my daughter arrived, struggling with her recovery.

Thus, we became a busy household with four generations living under one roof.

I bought extra-large packages of toilet paper, began cutting coupons and cherished the early morning hours when everyone was still asleep.

All of us under one roof poses many problems. Eggs and bread disappear. The washing machine runs on a tighter schedule than public transport. The trash needs emptying as much as my aging bladder.

With everyone on a different schedule, we rarely eat together, except for our weekly Sunday dinner, an opportunity for us to catch up with each other’s lives. My daughter doesn’t always approve of what her daughter is doing. I don’t always like the way my daughter and granddaughter talk to each other. My mother rarely knows what anyone is talking about. And more often than I like, someone leaves the table in tears. Not to mention, our dog spends a lot of time cowering under the kitchen table.

But throughout all the challenges, we have managed to make it work.

First and foremost, we have come to respect each other’s lifestyles and opinions. We rarely talk about controversial subjects such as politics and religion. We try to share each other’s music, although I draw the line at rap laced with profanity.

Everyone cleans up after themselves, most of the time. There are moments when something as insignificant as a dirty spoon left on the coffee table will have me question my sanity. I give a silent scream and remind everyone that I’m not the maid and to please do their share of the chores.

On the flip side, there is an abundance of family time, laughter and joy. My granddaughter has captured hundreds of family moments on her TikTok page. These videos have brought us in contact with long-lost relatives who have seen my face pop up on their social media feed.

Several of my friends think I’m crazy. My younger self would probably be appalled at this living arrangement. When I was growing up in the 1950s and 1960s, the norm was to leave your childhood home as soon as possible and live on your own. Moving out signified adulthood and maturity.

Not so much anymore. Children are living with their parents longer, and the elderly are moving in with their children.

Studies show that living communally with multiple generations can actually contribute to longevity. It’s been documented that people living in blue zones, such as Okinawa (Japan), Ikaria (Greece), Loma Linda (USA), Sardinia (Italy) and Nicoya (Costa Rica), live longer due to several factors, including strong family ties and respectful treatment of elders.

Having my grandchildren around has kept me young at heart. I understand most of the current slang, and I am knowledgeable about new technology and social media platforms.

By offering a safe space for my daughter, I’ve been able to help her get back on her feet. As for my mom, I’ve become an expert in wound care and aging ailments. I’m taking care of her, the way she used to take care of me.

I know my living arrangement will not last forever. My granddaughter will become self-sufficient and move on, and my mom will finally meet my dad in their “forever-after” movie. As I write this, my daughter is well on her way to independent living.

I imagine that once everyone is gone, echoes of these busy days will follow me around in the empty rooms. But for now, I’m glad I am able to provide my family members a comfortable place in which to nest.

 
Do any of you have older parents or grown children living with you? How's it going? Let us know in the comments below.