What No One Tells You About Parenting Adult Children

No one tells you that the hardest parenting moments might come after your children are grown.

It was Christmas Eve. Twenty-three people in my parents' house in Ohio. Different generations, different perspectives, different backgrounds—even within a family. The chaos was joyful until it wasn't.

My adult son and oldest adult daughter started arguing. Not the mild disagreement kind. The kind where my son called my daughter names—one of the destructive relationship habits we'd studied together for seven years while they were in Catholic elementary school, straight from Dr. William Glasser's Choice Theory—a framework that teaches how habits like name-calling and criticism damage relationships. The kind where my daughter told him she hates when he yells at her and comes across as "aggressive." The kind that forced me to take them to the laundry room so twenty other people wouldn't have their Christmas Eve disrupted.

In the laundry room, I stood there frozen, watching two people I'd raised to love each other fight like toddlers over a toy. Except they weren't fighting over who had the ball first. They were fighting to be right about their perspective, their feelings, their ideas.

The Flood of Memories

Standing in that laundry room, I was drowning in uncomfortable memories. My dad who never spoke to his sister again because of something horrible she said to my mom forty-plus years ago. My mom's brother who wouldn't come to family gatherings because he'd had a bad argument with his older brother. Family conflict ran deep in my parents' generation, and I was staring it dead in the eyes on Christmas Eve with my own children.

Their dad and I had raised them to love each other. I raised them to say sorry, to think about each other's feelings, to be aware of how their behavior impacted their siblings. Years of teaching. Years of modeling. Years of Dr. William Glasser's Choice Theory principles about avoiding the destructive habits that damage relationships.

And here I was, looking at two people who didn't seem to have any of that lifelong training I'd aimed to give.

It was like a knife right through the heart.

What Investigative Parenting Looks Like When You're Frozen

For nine weeks, I've been writing about investigative parenting. Wonder before you worry. Investigate before you react. Use curiosity as your parenting superpower.

But in that laundry room, I wasn't investigating anything. I was just trying to survive the moment.

I thought to myself: Really? We're going to fight like this on Christmas Eve with twenty other people in the house? My son unleashed deep childhood wounds that he claimed my oldest was responsible for. My daughter cried, expressing how much she hates being yelled at and treated with what she experiences as aggression.

I didn't see a way to help as a parent.

All my training felt useless. All the positive psychology principles I've been studying felt distant and academic. All the character strengths work, the optimism research, the constructive journalism approaches, the creativity frameworks, the love languages understanding—none of it gave me the answer to: How do I help my adult children stop hurting each other?

The Solution That Wasn't a Solution

In the end, I did what felt like the only option: I forced them to "play nice" while they were in Ohio. I promised we'd work it out and talk it through once the holidays were over and we were back home in Virginia. I suggested we get some family counseling.

I just wanted them to let it go for the moment. And they did. They accommodated me beautifully. They were respectful and polite to each other for the rest of the trip. They let it go for now.

But "for now" isn't resolution. "Play nice" isn't healing. And I'm sitting here wondering: What now?

The Questions No One Prepares You For

Should they work it out on their own? My son is an adult. My daughter is an adult. They need to navigate their own sibling relationship without me mediating every conflict.

But should I be involved? They're still my children. The wounds they referenced go back to childhood—a childhood I was responsible for creating. If my son felt like he was always failing to meet his sister's standards, shouldn't I have noticed that? Shouldn't I have addressed it then?

How do I navigate life as a parent of grown children when they're in conflict with each other?

I don't have the answer. And that uncertainty is excruciating.

What Nine Weeks of Positive Psychology Research Didn't Prepare Me For

Here's what's particularly painful: I've spent the last nine weeks diving deep into positive psychology research. I've learned about:

• Character strengths and how gratitude and love of learning predict wellbeing

• Optimism and how teaching kids to dispute catastrophic thoughts can prevent depression

• Constructive journalism and noticing what's working instead of fixating on what's wrong

• Creativity as a survival skill in the AI era

• The power of language and how our words reveal our state of mind

• Love languages and how witnessing our children means seeing them as they are, not as we need them to be

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All of this research is solid. All of these principles matter. All of this content I've been creating for you—it's real, it's valid, it's helpful.

But none of it told me what to do when my adult children have a bit of a knockdown argument on Christmas Eve and I realize that all the training I gave them didn't prevent this moment.

The Uncomfortable Truth

Here's what I'm learning in real-time, and I'm sharing it with you before I have it figured out:

Sometimes doing everything "right" as a parent doesn't prevent adult children from having complicated, painful relationships with each other.

You can teach them Choice Theory for seven years. You can model healthy communication. You can build a home where love and laughter matter. You can raise them with character strengths and optimism and creativity.

And they can still wound each other deeply as adults.

This doesn't mean the training failed. It doesn't mean I failed. It doesn't mean you're failing if you're experiencing something similar.

It means that adult relationships are complex. That childhood wounds can persist into adulthood even in loving families. That siblings need to work out their own dynamics eventually, and parents can't fix everything.

When Words Matter Most—And Hurt Most

Remember Week 8 when I wrote about how words matter? How language reveals our state of mind and shapes our behavior?

My son's words unleashed years of feeling like he couldn't measure up. My daughter's words expressed years of being treated "aggressively" when she's trying to be helpful. Both of them used words as weapons—not because they didn't know better, but because in moments of emotional flooding, knowledge and behavior are two different things.

They know name-calling is destructive. They know yelling damages connection. They learned all of this.

But knowing something intellectually and living it in moments of emotional activation are fundamentally different challenges.

What I'm Investigating Now

Since investigative parenting is my framework, here's what I'm investigating:

1. Is this normal? Do other parents of adult children experience their kids having significant conflicts? Or is this a sign that something deeper needs attention?

2. What's my role? When do I step back and let them work it out? When do I facilitate healing? When do I suggest professional help?

3. What do they need from me? Not what I think they need. Not what I wish they needed. What do THEY actually need from me as their parent right now?

4. What's the research on adult sibling relationships? I've studied parenting young children extensively. I need to understand the dynamics of adult sibling conflict and repair.

5. How do I manage my own emotional flooding? Because watching my children hurt each other triggers every protective instinct I have—and not all of those instincts are helpful.

The Part Where I Admit I Don't Know

I need to do more research on this. I'm sure other parents are feeling the same way.

I don't know if they should work it out on their own or if I should be involved. I don't know if family counseling is the right move or if they need individual therapy or sibling-specific work. I don't know if this is a bump in the road or a deeper pattern that needs addressing.

What I do know is this: The transition from parenting children to having a relationship with adult children is one of the hardest identity shifts I've experienced.

My job used to be clear. Teach them. Protect them. Guide them. Model for them. Create experiences that build their character.

Now my job is... what? Witness? Support? Step back? Show up differently?

I honestly don't know.

Why I'm Sharing This Before I Have Answers

Every other week of this content series, I've shared research-backed insights with practical applications. I've given you tools, frameworks, questions to ask, ways to investigate your own parenting challenges.

This week, I'm giving you something different: Uncertainty. Vulnerability. The admission that I don't have this figured out.

I'm sharing this because I suspect many of you are navigating similar territory. Your adult children might be struggling with each other. Or with you. Or with their own life challenges that you can't fix for them anymore.

And you might be feeling like all the "good parenting" you did should have prevented this. Like if you'd just done something differently when they were young, they wouldn't be struggling now.

I'm here to tell you: That's not how it works.

Adult children have their own journeys. Their own wounds to heal. Their own relationships to navigate. Their own growth to do.

Our job—and I'm figuring this out alongside you—is to love them through it without trying to control outcomes we can't control.

What Investigative Parenting Looks Like in This Season

So what does investigative parenting look like when your children are adults?

I think it looks like:

Wondering: What do they actually need from me right now? Not what I wish they needed. Not what I'm comfortable giving. What do THEY need?

Investigating: What are the patterns? What are the triggers? What's the history I might not fully understand even though I was there?

Staying curious: About their experience, their perspective, their pain—even when it implicates me or choices I made as their parent.

Holding space: For their process, their timeline, their way of working through this—which might look nothing like how I would do it.

Letting go: Of the illusion that I can fix this. Of the fantasy that perfect parenting creates perfect adult relationships. Of the belief that my job is to prevent all suffering.

The Follow-Up I Promised

I told my kids we'd work it out after the holidays. That we'd talk it through back in Virginia. That we'd get family counseling if needed.

I'm following through on that promise. And I'll share what I learn—both from research and from lived experience—as I figure out how to navigate this new season of parenting.

For now, I'm doing the uncomfortable work of investigating my own assumptions about what "successful parenting" looks like. Because maybe success isn't raising children who never fight. Maybe success is raising children who are willing to work through hard things, who can name their wounds, who want relationships with each other even when it's difficult.

Maybe success is being the kind of parent who can say "I don't know" and mean it. Who can stay curious instead of defensive. Who can wonder about their adult children's experience without immediately jumping to fix it.

I'm not there yet. But I'm investigating.

For Parents Walking This Road

If you're parenting adult children who are struggling—with each other, with you, with life—I see you.

If you're wondering where all your "good parenting" went when your grown kids make choices you don't understand, I see you.

If you're trying to figure out when to step in and when to step back, when to speak up and when to stay silent, I see you.

If you're realizing that the identity shift from "parent of children" to "parent of adults" is harder than anyone told you it would be, I see you.

You're not alone. And you're not failing.

We're all just figuring out what investigative parenting looks like in this new season. Together.

What I'd tell first-time parent me: 

The training of one's children doesn't end when they turn 18. It transforms. And that transformation will break your heart and remake it at the same time. Stay curious. Wonder before you worry. And remember: Their journey is theirs, not yours to control.

This is part of my ongoing series on Investigative Parenting, grounded in positive psychology research, 30+ years worth of a knowledge base in speech-language pathology, and real-life parenting experience. For the previous nine weeks of content, visit https://www.righttrackparenting.com/blog. To connect about parenting adult children, find me on Instagram @righttrackparent or LinkedIn.