Oct. 16, 2017 "My adult daughter is overstaying her welcome": Today I found this advice column by David Eddie in the Globe and Mail:
THE QUESTION
My 28-year-old daughter moved in with me after we hadn’t lived together for 10 years. Before she moved in, I told her she could only move in with me if she was on her best behaviour. She agreed, but since then, proved that she hasn’t grown up enough to make our living arrangements work out at all.
I’ve told her that she has to move out twice now, but she hasn’t. How do I get her to move out? I have to protect my own mental health. She has texted me, calling me a foul name many times and told me how much she hates me (hate was in caps). Basically, she says and does whatever she wants, which includes not moving out when I ask her to.
She has a full-time, well-paying job, she has been saving for a down payment to buy her own home and she’s gone from living in her dad’s house to living in my house. I need her to move out ASAP. What can I do?
THE ANSWER
What an awful situation. You raise a kid from full nappies and baby goo and “receiving blankets” (one of my favourite parenting terms: so called because you place the blanket on your shoulder and it “receives” your baby’s barf) all the way to the age of 28 and this is how you’re repaid?
And it seems to be getting more and more common. More than a third of Canadians between the ages of 20 to 34 still live with their parents, according to Statistics Canada. In Toronto, where I live, it’s almost half!
I’ve seen it blamed on any number of reasons: difficulty getting a job, skyrocketing prices of housing … You can also hear people muttering about how this generation of young people is “mollycoddled” and “entitled.”
(I’ve even heard someone blame it on not keeping score in sports such as soccer when they were kids.)
Part of it may be some parents have a hard time letting go. I know I will when the time comes for any of my three boys to leave the nest. My eyes fill with tears just thinking about it.
(Then those same tearful eyes might land on a banana peel on the coffee table and I think: “Will it be all bad?”)
But you have to give your daughter the “gift of independence” – the gift of growing up and being an adult – sooner rather than later, sounds like.
She needs to grow up, clearly. She’s telling you she “hates” you? What is she, five?
Start by giving her a deadline. Bring out the calendar, mark a day and say: “I need you to leave the house by this date.”
If she still flatly refuses – well, you may have to compel her to accept the “gift of independence.”
This may seem extreme. But I spoke to friend-of-the-column Eric Shapiro of the family law firm Skapinker and Shapiro and he says, past a certain age, and barring any disabilities, you are within your rights to forcibly eject your daughter.
You should check with a lawyer first, or paralegal, but the police could even become involved. Or you could change the locks while she’s at work.
Obviously, it would be a terrible scenario, only used as a last resort.
There might be yelling and screaming. Neighbours might peer through the curtains, faces alight with schadenfreude, fingers scrolling through the contacts list on their cellphones, trying to decide whom to call first with this juicy piece of gossip.
But, as you say yourself: you have to protect your own mental health.
Worried she might end up homeless (stops a lot of parents from kicking their “grown children” out, I think)? But you say she has a well-paying, full-time job.
She’s saving for her own place? Let her save from some crummy dump in a sketchy part of town, maybe with roommates causing her to climb the walls, as so many of us had to.
Worried she might wind up hating you? Seems like that ship’s already sailed: She’s telling you she hates you (in all caps), calling you the worst name she can think of – that anyone can think of – what have you got to lose?
Nowhere to go but up from here, I say. In fact, maybe after some experience with the outside, she may come to appreciate you, your property, the roof protecting her head from rain and snow and how patient you’ve been with her.
My opinion: I agree with that advice.
Oct. 14, 2019 "Cut dad some slack for odd wedding speech": I found this advice column by David Eddie in the Globe and Mail on Feb. 21, 2019. There are no comments:
The question
I recently got married and I am upset with my dad. I married someone he was not overly excited about. But, as father of the bride, he was to say a few words at dinner, and I was expecting something nice about my being his little girl, how proud he was of me, etc.
We were all stunned by what did come out: no kind words or feel-good speech. Instead, what we can only presume were attempts at humour included comments of how inappropriate the term "give the bride away" was, statements about the groom's family traditionally getting a dowry, but my in-laws "aren't going to be getting a dime" and on and on. He and his wife (not my mother) left early without saying goodbye.
Weeks later, after I had cooled down a bit, I spoke to them about leaving early and got a lame excuse. I did not mention the speech as I was too humiliated. Do I tell my dad how inappropriate I feel he was? His health has not been great and he is a poor communicator. Side note, we have historically had a good relationship and, up until now, have had no conflicts or hard feelings. I just don't know how to handle this.
The answer
It's a funny thing about father-of-the-bride speeches. Actually, before going any further, here might be a good spot, for the Eddie-fication of all, to unpack a recap of Damage Control's Three Cardinal Rules for Giving Wedding Speeches (Or Really Any Speech At All):
1. Do not attempt to ad lib.
2. Do not get drunk first.
3. Never, ever do both.
I've seen some groaners, in my time. I've seen head-scratchers. I've seen face-grabbers, from people who broke these rules, especially the third one.
I remember one father of the bride, staggering tipsily onstage, figuring he'd "wing it," grabbing the mic, and beginning his speech: "[Name of the bride here] was never the most attractive or intelligent of my offspring …"
And it actually managed to go downhill from there. Rambling and dilatory, it was all about him: his hopes and dreams, how having children scuppered those dreams, the compromises he had to make as a family man, his bitterness about it all
"Talk about the bride!" someone heckled at some point, causing him to stop and glare at the audience in baleful silence for a full 15 seconds before resuming his remarks. When he finally abandoned his speech, no one was able to look at him the same; his reputation, carefully cultivated over a lifetime, having swirled down the toilet like a struggling spider.
Come to think of it, reflecting on his and other cases (including it sounds like maybe yours), I think I'd like to add a couple amendments to the Three Cardinal Rules:
Amendment 1: Unless you are absolutely certain you are a certifiably funny person, maybe don't try to be funny, either. I've seen lot of unfunny people run into trouble by trying to be funny in speeches. Knowing they might get a laugh saying some uncomfortable, family-skeleton-type home truth, they "go there," to get the laugh, but leave a residue of shock and unpleasantness.
Amendment 2: Neither home truths nor pizza should be delivered at a wedding.
In short, I think your father was probably just trying to be funny and missed his mark. Sounds like he might also have been having a tough time with "giving you away."
Think of it from his perspective: We all know a special bond exists between father and daughter. He will probably always think of you as his little girl in pigtails, running through the sprinkler, sitting on his lap and gazing up adoringly.
Then some smirking dude comes slouching into his daughter's life, and he not only has to preside over (and pay for) a ceremony consecrating and legitimizing the fact this dude gets to have sex with you – now he has to give a speech saying how happy he is about it all?
I'm kidding around a little here, folks. Just pleading for you to cut the old boy a bit of slack.
You yourself say he's not the world's greatest orator. Maybe he bungled his speech, flubbed his big moment.
The real question is: How does he treat you now? Words are not his forte. Actions speak louder.
So observe his actions, and if they fall short of the mark, then for sure, let him have it.
But as for his wedding speech, I'd just let it go. Put it in the rear-view. Everyone makes mistakes. Let this one be his "mulligan," and move on.
My opinion: I agree with the advice. The woman should tell her dad that the speech was kind of bad. If she doesn't tell him, she will continue to be angry at him.
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