Because We’re Family Doesn’t Mean There Aren’t Boundaries

My 26-year-old son recently moved back home. He graduated from college in 2024, took a job across the country in 2025, and did what we so often encourage our young adults to do: he went out into the world and started building a life for himself. Now, after having some time and experience under his belt, he's decided he may want to go in a different direction.

And I support that. I don't believe the first decision he made after college has to determine the rest of his life. At 26, he has time to reassess, figure out what he wants, develop a solid plan, and make his next move with intention. If coming home gives him the breathing room to do that, I want him to have it.

Because he can.

I recognize the privilege in that. Not every young adult has a home they can return to while they figure things out, and not every parent is able to provide one. We can. I don't see any reason to manufacture struggle for my son simply because adulthood is supposed to be hard. Life will provide enough hard things on its own. I want home to be a soft place for him to land while he determines what's next.

But—and you knew there was a but coming—a soft place to land doesn't have to be a place without boundaries.

My niece also lives with us, so my son's return means several adults are now sharing one home. It felt like the perfect opportunity to reset our expectations around boundaries, responsibility, and respect. Instead of calling a family meeting and handing out a list of rules, though, I decided to start with one question:

What do you expect from a good roommate?

Think about it. Most of us would want a roommate who cleans up after themselves, respects our belongings and privacy, communicates about guests, doesn't eat everything in the refrigerator, and generally remembers that another human being lives there.

We can usually describe a terrible roommate pretty quickly. The more interesting question is: Of everything you expect from a good roommate, how much of it can the people who live with you expect from you?

That's the conversation I want us to have.

Sometimes Family Gets Too Comfortable

Family can make us comfortable in ways that aren't always healthy. We may ask a roommate before borrowing something but grab a family member's things without thinking. We'll clean up before company comes over but leave a mess because “it's just us.” Sometimes we extend basic courtesies to strangers that we stop extending to the people closest to us.

And when someone objects, there's always that familiar response: “But we're family.”

Yes, we are. And?

Being family doesn't mean privacy disappears, belongings automatically become communal, or someone else's time and comfort matter less. Family shouldn't mean we owe one another less consideration. If anything, the people we love deserve more.

Support and Responsibility Can Coexist

Welcoming my son home doesn't mean I expect nothing from him while he's here. There's a difference between “You don't have to figure everything out today” and “You don't have to be responsible for anything while you figure it out.”

I want him to breathe, think, explore, and plan. I also expect him to participate in the household he's living in. The same is true for every adult in our home. Contributions may look different, but everyone contributes.

And responsibility is about more than chores. A question worth asking is: If something I repeatedly do creates more work, expense, inconvenience, or stress for someone else, what responsibility do I have for changing it?

That's where responsibility and respect meet.

Respect isn't only about not yelling, cursing, or saying hurtful things. Sometimes disrespect is much quieter. It's repeatedly ignoring a request, leaving your mess because someone else will eventually clean it, using someone's belongings without asking, or failing to communicate because you don't think you should have to.

Respect isn't just about how we speak to people. It's about how much we consider them.

So, What Is It Like to Live With You?

I don't want my family to feel like roommates. I want home to feel like home. I want laughter, comfort, people raiding the refrigerator, gathering in the kitchen, and occasionally leaving their shoes somewhere they probably shouldn't.

But I do think families could borrow a few things from good roommate relationships. Good roommates communicate. They ask instead of assuming. They contribute. They respect privacy. They address problems before resentment has time to move in and unpack its own suitcase. Most importantly, they understand reciprocity: if I expect consideration from you, you should be able to expect consideration from me.

That's ultimately the conversation I want to have with my son and my niece. I'm not interested in becoming the household police. I want us to talk about what each of us needs to feel respected, what each of us is responsible for contributing, and what we're willing to give one another in return. And yes, that includes me.

I want my son to know that changing direction doesn't mean he failed and coming home doesn't mean he's moving backward. Sometimes having somewhere safe to land gives you the freedom to make a better decision about where you're going next.

The softness of home and the structure of boundaries can coexist. We can support the people we love without doing everything for them. We can welcome them home without abandoning our own needs.

So maybe the question for all of us isn't simply, “What do I expect from the people I live with?”

Maybe it's “What is it actually like to live with me?”

Because we're family doesn't mean there aren't boundaries. Sometimes creating a soft place for someone we love to land means making sure it's a healthy place for everyone who already calls it home.