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I think one of the topics I most often share about our household is conflict resolution. I remember learning in a university child development class that most of us learn conflict resolution skills at home, as part of our family dynamic, while growing up.  I would guess many other arenas provide influence such as school, sports teams, and various social activities kids engage in.  But in my opinion and through a lot of personal experience, I think this is one area in which a generationally-blended household can present uncommon challenges, and possibly yield unanticipated rewards.   

Before sharing observations and possibly incriminating experiences, I think it’s important to acknowledge that conflict resolution events are often shaped by power dynamics, in other words, acknowledged authority among the combatants.  Here is where I find justification to look at influences on each generation, and understand differences that may pose a challenge to conflict resolution.  

I’ve read more than a few books, websites and attended many speaking events in which generational differences was the main topic.  I’m no expert, but based on my work experience leading people of mixed generations, combined with the intensity of living it everyday, I feel a right to my opinions on the subject.  

In our home, the dinner table is the most frequent arena for verbal combat.  On the positive side, we often enjoy full attendance at the dinner table.  However, one recent example of the difficulties which can arise at mealtime was when my teenage, Gen Z, daughter make the unfortunate decision to open up about a negative experience with her service organization.  It seemed innocuous enough, something like “I didn’t like the way we elected our officers this year.”  That was the bell that signaled the opening round and opportunity for everyone to chime in with similar, or not so similar experiences.  My daughter was just looking to share an experience, but what she received was advice in the form of a story from the Eisenhower administration, some consoling from experiences in the sixties, a totally unforeseen accusation about spoiled kids today, and one ruined meal.  When she demonstrated this frustration by saying “I wasn’t asking for everyone tell me how to fix it,” then round two began with advice on how to behave at the dinner table, and the train ran all the way off the rails.  And I’m thinking how to put the train back on the tracks from this one.    

It is here that I think a quick summary of my learning about the five generations in my house is helpful.  It begins with a Traditionalist represented by my mom, followed by a Baby Boomer, two Gen X’ers, a Millennial, and two Gen Zs.  There is some debate about the years defining each official generation, I don’t want to get into that here, but I do believe the defining experiences of each of these generations had a significant influence on the way each views authority and therefore negotiates conflict resolution. 

The seniors among us, sometimes called Traditionalists, or as my mother would prefer to be labelled, because she is a member, “The Greatest Generation,” grew up the children of depression-era parents.  They have memories of WWII, and the soldiers returning from war. From my experience they respect seniority, tenure, experience, and favor a more command-and-control style.  From both sides.  If they are part of the platoon, they take orders without question.  If they are the leader, look out, it’s their way or the highway.  

The Baby Boomers grew up in post war prosperity. They were the first generation for whom an education was a birthright.  They were teens in the sixties, fought for civil rights, and took us to the moon, because, well, it was there.  They became the first generation where mom and dad both worked outside the home.  My mother-in-law is a Baby Boomer, and exhibits all the aspirational high-mindedness of her generation.  But her view of authority is different from my mom’s.  Her generation was among the first to question authority and distrust anyone over 30.  She prefers to talk things out and recognizes a more consensual form of authority, where its roles are negotiated.  But once decided, she can follow rules like no one’s business.

My wife and I are Generation X.  We were the first latch-key kids, and most of us had divorced parents, although to be clear, my parents remained married until my father’s passing in 2010.  Gen X’ers opinions on authority, I believe, can be summed up by the classic movie, “The Breakfast Club”.  We outright disrespected authority and thought it was something to outwit and outplay.  Why shouldn’t we think that, being latch-key kids meant we had opportunity to goof-off while our parents left us home, and as long as the evidence was gone when mom and dad returned home, it was all good. Besides the Cold War looming in the background, we had it pretty easy.  With generally good economies, and the U.S. occupying leadership among the world’s nations, we could focus on ourselves, education, and our careers.  

Millennials grew up with technology, but not from birth.  September 11, 2001, was a big influence in their lives, and they generally distrust institutions, especially government, and feel like they have to save the world from what the Gen X’ers did to destroy it.  That’s a whole other topic for another blog entry.  In my experience at work, they are a hard working bunch, but don’t want a boss, they want a coach who tries to bring out the best in them.  My niece, who has lived with us for two years since graduating from university, is a Millennial.  Hers was the first generation that grew up with a schedule.  She wants to know the plan.  And her generation-mates will only recognize authority, frequently called respect, when it has been earned. But I have to hand it to them – while the Gen X’ers lived to work, the Millennials work to live.  They model, and have taught me, to value experience over possession. 

And finally my two children are the Gen Z’ers.  Both born after the events of 9/11. They were elementary school kids in the Great Recession, but they are the first digital natives.  That’s right, for all intents and purposes they can’t remember a time before facebook, or an iphone, or when the world’s knowledge wasn’t accessible from a touchscreen.  They are too young, I think, to yet label with an authority type.  In fact. don’t label them at all.  Every one of them is totally unique, and should not be held to anyone else’s standard but their own.  Again, a topic for another day.

If you’ve stuck with me this far, here is the pay off.  As the middle generation among those in my household, the father of the children, the son of my mother, the husband to my wife, and uncle to my niece, I have had to adjudicate more conflict than Judge Judy.  And believe me, if she had to live with the plaintiff and defendant from each case, she would be a lot less bossy.  

In surviving the everyday conflict in our homes, the struggle for you if you’re like me, is to take all of the above into account when confronted with complex domestic conflict.  I have to remember that my mother and mother-in-law expect order, and unless someone else has demonstrated authority, the two of them are entitled to it because of their age and experience.  My niece and children don’t live in that world.  They want to be heard, understood, and they want the grandmas to own it when the kids are right and the seniors are wrong.  

My recommendation to keep your home worth living in, is to demonstrate leadership to the seniors and take charge.  In my dinner table debacle, I stated, didn’t ask, that for everyone’s benefit we find a new topic of discussion.  Then like breaking up any good bar fight, I separated the combatants.  I went to the seniors first and made a clear statement that I would handle it with our daughter.  Mind you, I didn’t think she did anything wrong, but the grandmas were offended that their advice wasn’t met with gushing approval and gratitude from all children present, including me.

I then moved to my daughter’s room and assumed the familiar role of counselor that young people have come to expect from their teachers, coaches, and club leaders.  I told her how much I appreciated her sharing her life experience at dinner.  And how grown-up she appeared by leading the conversation at the table.  All true.  Then I described how her grand parents felt that they deserved to be heard and validated for the long life and many experiences they’ve had.  Lots of back and forth on who has rights, and whose ideas were best, but eventually she acknowledged her lack of patience with our mutual elders.  

I then began to coach her on how to approach the oldest under our shared roof.  And sometimes, it’s to not approach them at all.  I shared that her grandparents aren’t likely to change. Neither their attitudes, their beliefs nor their behaviors.  The kids on the other hand, in this case both she and I, have to own the burden of accommodation and patience.  She listened to my comments, and let’s be honest, it doesn’t hurt that she is still dependent on me for the essentials in her life like Starbucks and wi-fi.  But after the final bell, our daughter understood a little more about the people in her home, and approached my mom with an apology for not understanding the value of the knowledge she was trying to offer.  The olive branch accepted, peace was restored, and the train was moving happily down the tracks once more toward unknown destinations.

But I also promised you a reward, and here it is.  Your kids listen to you, but they are also watching you, and how you resolve conflict with your parents.  It is an opportunity for you and them to be the same in a given situation, not on opposite sides.  Watching this, they also learn generational roles will always play a role in their life, not just when they’re teenagers and dealing with you about driving and pictures with prom dates.  Your reward will be in a relationship with your children that is deeper and richer because of this observed conflict-resolution dance between you and your parents.  And it will demonstrate to them that you want a lifetime relationship with them, and not just to be their launchpad in life.  And this lifetime relationship will involve conflict, but resolvable conflict.

I’ve had some blow-ups with my mom, and my kids have watched me display some not-so-great behavior.  But in talking it over with them, after patching things up with my mom, it demonstrated  that I’m a son too, as well as their parent.  And I believe it showed them that they can disagree with me, and we can exchange heated words, but we can approach each other afterwards with respect and contrition, and love each other through it all.  The result is they learn how to put the train back on the tracks.  I think kids who grow up without the benefit of watching their parents fight and make-up with their own parents, miss out on that lesson.  

I feel this so strongly, that I’ve spent more than an hour typing this thought out for you. I hope you take it in the spirit in which it’s offered, a spirit of hope and evidence of my gratitude for living in a multigenerational home.

We were parents for the first time.  And like most in our situation, we didn’t yet realize the significance of the change in our lives, and for the first few weeks lived on coffee and adrenaline.  But soon after bringing our son home from the hospital, it was clear, we needed help.  And guidance.  And support.  These all came in the form of my mother-in-law who would leave her work on Friday afternoons and make the two  hour drive to our home to relieve my wife and me, and take over primary care for our son. We gratefully accepted the help and promptly collapsed into a blissful few hours of sleep.

My wife and I both had corporate jobs when we decided to grow our family, and I can be honest here, I never for one minute thought about who would take care of our child after he or she was born.  Not once.  Yes, we had planned and executed our wedding, the purchase of our first home, and our pregnancy, but that’s where my brain stopped.  I can honestly say I had reasons for my ignorance.  I grew up an only child in with two parents who were teachers.  So for as long as I could remember, I was either at school, or home with them.  The first five years of my life really hadn’t entered my mind when my wife and I were engaged in the process of getting pregnant, registering for showers, or assembling baby furniture. 

But suddenly here we were in the kitchen looking at each other and having a conversation about whether my wife wanted to quit her job and stay home, or resume her working life at the end of her maternity leave.  “I love being a mom, but I can’t stay at home” or something like it was what I heard.  “Ok, great, let’s figure this out,” or something to that effect was my response.  But again, I had no idea what lied ahead.  We visited several care facilities, and let me be clear, I have great respect and appreciation for the institutions and individuals who accept 3-month old babies into their arms for day care, but for me is was a bucket of ice water to the face.  I didn’t want to drop our son off with someone I barely knew.  There had to be a different way.

My mother-in-law was divorced from my father-in-law for twenty years, and she had what I would describe as a job, not a career.  “Let’s ask your mom to move in with us.  We can take care of her and she’ll take care of the baby,” I asked my wife one night while sitting on the sofa in front of mindless TV.  “Why would she move in with us?” she said.  I went into full on pitch-mode.  “We will get her a car, pay her medical insurance, and she can quit her job.  I don’t think she loves her job anyway.”  I was successful, and got the green light to approach my MIL.

She refused me several times, over the course of about a month I wore her down and convinced her my appeal was genuine, and I was confident we could provide a better lifestyle for her and in return our family would benefit from her love.  She relented, and the plan was celebrated by all over dinner at a local burger joint.  None of us truly understood how our lives would change after that.

I decided to write this blog because so many people have asked me “how did you come to live with both your mom and mother-in-law?” “Is it hard with that many people in the house?” or upon learning of my circumstances responded not with a question, but stone-faced with the statement “I could NEVER do that.”  For the right reasons, it is the best decision. But believe me when I say that sometimes, I try to imagine life in a “normal” home, one with privacy, one with at most two parents, one where only my cars inhabit my garage, and one where all the decorating decisions reflect the same era of fashion and materials. There are times I say to my wife, while in our bathroom rinsing our toothbrushes, “why did we choose this life?”  In the blog entries that follow I will attempt to explain why, and in the final assessment, I am so grateful that all of these people have chosen to come together and create a shared life, under one roof, of which I’m very proud.  

The events I’m going to relay in my next post began 17 years ago.  Seventeen long years ago.  Mostly good years, but as I will share over the course of this blog, some challenging times as well.  If you’re considering creating or joining a multigenerational household (MGHH), and want to know why someone would consider it, I’ll share our circumstances and thoughts.  For the record, there are many reasons to form a MGHH, and my family’s journey is only one example.  But regardless of the reasons in the beginning, I believe the benefits, challenges, laughs and pillow-screams that follow are materially the same for all of us who choose this path.