Every summer, something magical (and slightly chaotic) happens across South Asian American homes, the parents land. Two to three months of home-cooked sabzi, unsolicited wellness advice, and the slow realization that maybe your kids do need to learn your mother tongue after all. If you're one of the many balancing a job, a toddler, and your amma asking if your Instant Pot is really safe, this one's for you.
Having your parents visit from back home is both a blessing and a battle. They show up with snacks, stories, and enough Vicks VapoRub to treat a small village. They also have thoughts, so many thoughts, about your parenting style, your career choices, and the way you cut bhindi.
But here’s the thing, somewhere between the unsolicited advice and the perfectly folded laundry, there’s magic. Your kids learn family history through bedtime stories and snack breaks. You sneak in solo Target runs. And your parents get to feel useful, needed, and deeply woven into your everyday life, even if they still use the oven for storage.
So how do we celebrate the good while surviving the rest? Let’s get into it.
Why it matters: Your parents are on a different time zone, mentally and emotionally. You're sprinting between meetings, meal kits, and math homework. Left unchecked, that friction will build.
Try this:
"Together" mornings, "independent" afternoons.
Start with a shared breakfast or prayer/meditation moment. Midday? Let everyone do their thing, your parents can nap, you can work in peace, and the kids can binge PBS Kids.
Shared anchor moments: Pick one non-negotiable daily habit, e.g., 6 PM chai together or 8 PM family walk.
Pro tip: Post a simple weekly schedule on the fridge (color-coded if you're fancy). It helps everyone feel less like houseguests, more like housemates.
Why it matters: Food is love. Food is also control. Let's avoid turf wars.
Try this:
“One hero meal a day” system. Let your parents own one big meal a day, the one that brings them joy (and uses their spice game). You take care of breakfast, lunch, or leftovers.
Prep swaps: If you're short on time, pre-chop or buy frozen bhindi and don’t apologize for it. Teach your parents how to use your air fryer; let them teach you how to actually use hing.
Pro tip: Have one “experimental cooking” night a week where you try something together, Indo-Chinese? Old-school thepla? It keeps things playful, not just practical.
Why it matters: No one wants to feel like a live-in nanny or a museum piece. But having something to do and the space not to, can be deeply grounding.
Try this:
Ask them to teach, not just watch. Let them pass on a skill, from knitting to cricket. Kids get cultural gold; they get to feel needed.
Create a “boredom menu.” Write down 5 solo activities they can do without you (YouTube bhajans, regional TV shows via Sling/YuppTV, jigsaw puzzles, gardening).
Pro tip: Consider getting a local library card in their name, many have language-specific books or free access to movies and classes.
You scroll to unwind. They stare and wonder what button not to press. Let’s make screen time feel like shared time.
Set up a shared “family tech station.” A simple tablet or shared laptop with saved logins, bookmarked news/music apps (NDTV, Bhajans Radio, YouTube), and a large-font home screen. Keep it in a common area, accessible, not overwhelming.
Teach basic video calling and voice notes. Whether it’s FaceTime, WhatsApp, or Signal, help them feel confident calling family abroad or sending voice notes to grandkids. It’s empowering, not just practical.
Use Alexa or Google Assistant in a way that feels familiar to them. Start with timers, reminders (“It’s time for your evening walk”), or music requests in Hindi/Tamil/Punjabi.
Pro tip: Record a few voice memos of them sharing stories, jokes, or recipes. It’s tech with heart and the grandkids will treasure it.
Why it matters: You’re still parenting, working, surviving. You also don’t want to be policing how much salt your mom added to your kid’s plate.
Try this:
Create “closed door” hours. That office door means “please wait to talk until 2 PM.” Bonus: teach your kids the same.
Set the tone with honesty. Say: “I love having you here and I know I can get snappy when I’m overwhelmed. Let’s promise to talk, not bottle things up.”
Pro tip: Use a shared journal or notebook for non-urgent requests or reminders. It avoids in-the-moment tension but keeps communication flowing.
Because the best family moments aren’t always planned, they’re just paused long enough to be felt
This isn’t homework. It’s storytelling, from the motherland to the living room.
Pick something that invites curiosity, not yawns.
For history buffs: The Story of India (PBS) or Bharat Ek Khoj (YouTube)
For mythology lovers: Ramayana: The Legend of Prince Rama (Prime Video) or Sita Sings the Blues (free online)
For culture connectors: India’s Daughter, My Name is Salt, or Indus Blues
Make it a ritual:
Pop some popcorn (with chaat masala, if you know what’s up)
Have each person write down one question during the movie
Pause mid-way for chai and conversation
End by asking: “What did this remind you of?” or “What do you want to learn more about?”
It’s not about agreeing, it’s about awakening.
Think about what actually happens every day: Chai gets made. Dishes get done. Groceries get put away. What if these became rituals, not just routines?
Try these mini magic-makers:
Chai Club: Let each person take a turn curating a chai style, masala with elaichi, oat milk & cinnamon, Kashmiri pink. Give it a name. Rate it. Make it silly and sacred.
Costco Confessionals: Turn weekly bulk runs into bonding; let everyone pick a “just-for-me” snack and share a story on the drive back.
Aarti Additions: Invite your kids to ring the bell or light the incense. Let your parents explain the meaning. Let your kids remix it with music or drawing.
Ritual = Repetition + Meaning.
You’re not just keeping them busy, you’re keeping your culture alive, your love visible.
This isn’t just a fun evening activity. It’s a way to bottle this summer, the smells, the laughter, even the awkward silences and gift it to your future selves.
Here’s how to do it:
Pick one night, ideally in the second half of their visit and turn off the distractions. Set up chai or snacks, dim the lights, and grab your phone (voice memos work fine).
Ask each person to answer a set of heart-tugging, surprising, and simple questions.
Ask your parents:
What was your childhood summer like?
What’s something you miss about India that we could bring into this home?
When did you feel proudest of your kids?
Ask your kids (even the tiny ones):
What’s your favorite thing to do with grandma or grandpa?
If you could teach them one thing, what would it be?
What makes you feel loved?
Ask yourselves:
What’s something hard that we got through together this season?
What parts of our culture do we want to pass on and why?
Record it. Write it down. Or tuck little notes into a literal jar.
Future-you (and future-them) will thank you.
And villages come with laughter, labor, and the occasional loud opinion on cumin.
But they also come with love that transcends time zones.
Yes, you’ll bicker about the thermostat. Yes, your dad will say “back in my day…” a few too many times. But you’ll also build bridges. You’ll laugh until your stomach hurts. And you’ll create a version of family your kids will never forget.
So here’s to summer 🥂
To the rice boiling over and the reminders to wear socks.
To movie nights, mangoes, and making space.
To the love that shows up in sabzis and stories.
Because when three generations collide, it’s not chaos. It’s culture, reimagined.
Loved this? There’s more brewing every week. ☕