Honoring Boundaries Means Knowing When to Sit in the Back

On a recent trip up to Massachusetts to visit my mom, I caught a ride back to New Jersey with my daughter and her boyfriend – in his car. 

They graciously offered me the front seat, but I was perfectly content to ride in the back. I’d just started a new audiobook and was eager to get into it. (Side note: If you're not on the Libby app, it’s a game changer for book lovers – highly recommend!)

A while into our ride, I hit pause on the story to check where we were. As I looked up and out, I realized that my backseat perch gave me the perfect vantage point to quietly observe my daughter and her boyfriend in their natural habitat. 

What I saw made my heart swell: two people fully at ease with each other – exchanging playful banter, quiet affection and the kind of inside jokes that only come with closeness. A squeeze of the hand. An adoring glance. Shared giggles. It all unfolded so effortlessly. It was heartwarming. 

And humbling.

In the movie version, this would be the part where the music swells and flashbacks of her as a toddler flood the screen. But in real life, there was just the quiet hum of the highway and the unmistakable ache of realization: I am no longer in the driver’s seat of her life. Maybe not even the passenger. I’m in the back. And I’m learning what that means.

This moment – this 100% midlife moment – brings with it a unique blend of beauty and grief. We’re sandwiched between raising kids who no longer need us in the same ways and caring for parents who now need us in ways they never have. All while trying to make sense of our own changing identities.

And in each of these relationships, we’re figuring out how to show up now – how to love without smothering, support without controlling, care without collapsing. Or, to stick with the metaphor: we’re constantly trying to figure out where in their car we belong.

When our kids were little, we were driving – buckle them in, chart the route, take the wheel, keep them safe. As they grew, we slid into the passenger seat – close enough to offer guidance, gently point out roadblocks, maybe hit the imaginary brakes now and then. But still very much in it.

Now, this new phase – this backseat living – is a whole vibe. There's wisdom here, yes, but also restraint. It's knowing when to stay quiet. When to gaze out the window. When to speak up. And when to just be there, visible and ready, but not necessarily needed in the moment. 

And with aging parents? The dynamic is even more delicate – and often more emotionally charged. It’s scary and sad to witness the beginnings of a role reversal, especially when you were raised to defer to them, to follow without questioning. I still feel the tug of that “good daughter” conditioning. And even when I know my perspective might now be more grounded in current realities than theirs, I feel the pull of those ingrained rules of engagement from my childhood. 

Now, to be clear, I don’t have it all figured out. I'm a work in progress. But I have found a few practices that help lower the stress of this complicated season and create more space for making thoughtful and purposeful choices:

1. Ask for Clarity

There’s a helpful strategy I love: “Do you want to be heard, hugged, or helped?” It cuts through the guesswork in tough conversations. Here's an updated version you could use with your child or parent:

“Where in your car do you want me to sit right now? Should I take the wheel? Sit in the passenger seat and help you navigate? Or sit quietly in the back where you know you can find me if you need me?”

It’s a gentle way to offer presence without pressure.

2. Have the Courageous Conversation

As Brené Brown says, “Clear is kind.” Naming the shift in dynamics – even when it’s awkward – can create mutual understanding. Try saying, “This season feels new for both of us. Let’s talk about what support looks like now.” 

Honesty sets a shared foundation. When you talk about expectations, you reduce the likelihood of future resentment. 

3. Check Your Intention

When you feel the urge to jump in, ask yourself:

What’s my real intention here? Is this about their safety? Or is this about my discomfort, fear, or ego?

Pausing creates space for self-awareness. Sometimes your urge to control is rooted in love – and sometimes in your own anxiety. 

Knowing the difference is everything.

4. Find Your Own Copilot

In this season of caring for everyone else, don’t forget to care for yourself. Whether it's therapy, coaching, a spiritual practice or simply regular time with people who "get it," you need a place to unload. You don’t have to drive every car all the time. Let someone else take the wheel now and then.

5. Remember: It's Not Permanent

Backseats aren’t forever. Life is fluid. Roles shift. And the beauty of healthy relationships is that we get to take turns – driving, guiding, resting, receiving. Sometimes, when we least expect it, we’re invited back into the front seat. 

Or, better yet, we just go for a joyride together 🥰

The truth is, no matter how old I get, I still need my mommy. And I'm so grateful she’s still able to take the wheel when I’m too tired, too emotional, or just out of answers. And I imagine my kids feel the same about me.

Maybe it’s not really about which seat we’re in – but how we show up in it. With grace. With trust. With patience. With love.

Because at the end of the day, we’re all just trying to get home – together.

👉🏻Feeling this too? If you're navigating the dance between caregiving, letting go and redefining your role, you're not alone. Hit reply and tell me where YOU find yourself sitting these days. I’d love to hear your story.

P.S. Backseat driver or not, sometimes the best view comes from the back. And snacks. Always bring snacks. 😜