I grew up in a wealthy but emotionally distant family. My parents would say things like “I love you” and ask for kisses when we did see each other, but those moments were brief. They preferred to spend their free time reading or watching TV rather than actively engaging with me. If I wanted to be around them, it was on their terms: I’d go to their room or office, where they’d continue their activities while I quietly sat nearby. If I didn’t want to do that, I’d just go to my own room and play alone. The living room was rarely used.
Now, as grandparents, they want me to visit, but only for short periods. They’ll happily see my daughter (she’s 3) at mealtimes, but outside of that, they’re back to their books and screens. If I suggest an outing, like a trip to the farm, they decline because she’s “too young,” might have a tantrum, or walks too slowly, cries unpredictably. Their version of spending time with her is letting her climb on their bed or sofa while they scroll on their phones or read, occasionally swatting her away if she blocks the screen. They might put on some music for her to dance to or at best read her a short book, but after an hour of hanging out, it’s, “Alright, maybe go outside before we all go mad?” Even a simple walk is out of the question: she walks too slowly, stops too much, gets distracted by everything.
I feel guilty for not visiting more because I know they’d be sad. When we are there, they shower us with “I’ve missed you,” “Give me a kiss,” “I love you both so much,” and “You’re the best daughter and granddaughter.” But the reality is, every visit leaves me feeling lonely and exhausted. I’m solo parenting 22 hours a day, just without the support of friends like I have at home and without seeing my husband in the evening if I visit during the week when he works.
To avoid a drip feed, they are incredibly generous financially, they’ve helped me buy a house, promised to cover my daughter’s private school fees, and often give large gifts for birthdays and holidays.
By contrast, my in-laws don’t have a huge house, but DH’s childhood was filled with stories of quality time together. With our daughter, they’re the same—they’ll get on the floor to play, make crafts, read, tell stories, and sing songs. They’d love to go to the farm with us and often do. The difference is stark and it makes me feel so let down. I don't know whether to cut down the visits and disappoint my parents, or keep it up but be unhappy every visit.