“My Retired Husband Gives His Kids Money We Can’t Spare”
That brings me to my problem. My stepchildren are all in their 30s and still ask for money. Only one of them has a full-time job, and none of them work in the field in which they have degrees. We paid for their degrees and none of them had to get a loan. We were happy to do it but we were both working, while they still behave as if their father has the same salary that he did seven years ago. My stepson is 35 and just moved to another state to live with friends after getting divorced. He has a degree in computer science, but recently accepted a part-time job at chipotle because he told us that working full-time would suck his soul. And then, in the next breath, he asked his father to loan him money for the down payment on a car. He hasn’t even received a paycheck yet.
There are a number of reasons we can’t loan him money. Number one, we literally do not have extra money. Number two, he has taken money from us in the past and never paid it back. He is physically and mentally healthy, but has a history of unemployment. His father loves him dearly and wants us to give him thousands of dollars that we don’t have. I reminded my husband that my car is 25 years old and his car is 17 years old and that I don’t think that we should be helping a perfectly healthy 35-year-old buy a car when there are medications to be purchased and bills and doctors to be paid.
How do I get a 35 year-old man, whom I have told repeatedly what I am telling you, to stop asking his father for money? And how do I get my husband to stop agreeing to do this when we literally cannot afford it? It hurts my husband every time he has to say no to his children. It hurts me when he gives them money behind my back. It is stressing him out. It is stressing me out. How do I convey to three adults that we are no longer a bank? Their father’s health is and should be the only priority. — Sad and Tired
You don’t mention speaking to an elder law attorney so I am going to assume you haven’t yet. If that’s the case, this should be the next thing you do. An elder law attorney assists with all kinds of things people in your age bracket and life stage often need assistance with: medicaid planning for longterm care; creating wills; mediating family disputes; helping create trusts; designating power of attorney; helping avoid elder abuse and fraud – the list goes on. I understand it’s an expense and you may feel it’s one you can’t afford, but at this point, I don’t think you can afford not to invest in this service. Speaking to an elder law attorney will give you and your husband the much-needed expertise and emotional neutrality to create some plans that will serve you both in the long run and will remove any ambiguity about how much money you have to give away, as well as the best time and way to pass any money along.
You need someone clear-headed in your corner. I’m sure your husband loves you immensely and has your back, but the truth is his thinking – on this particular issue, especially – is cloudy. Between the Alzheimer’s and the dynamic he has with his kids, you can’t count on him to make the best, logical decisions when it comes to loaning money to family. A professional who specializes in this kind of thing will give you the back-up you need and a plan to best reach your longterm financial goals so that your emotional reserve will be freed up to care for your husband and yourself. Right now, it’s like you’re on a team by yourself; an elder law attorney will give your team a captain and can help bring your husband on board with information and tasks that will be digestible and doable for him (and you).
Aside from the financial challenges, you are going to face emotional hurdles as you navigate the progression of your husband’s illness. If you don’t already have a strong support system – your husband’s kids do not qualify as such – I hope you will spend some time find or fostering one. Look for support groups for families affected by Alzheimer’s, but also lean on friends and loved ones who have proven loyalty to you. Let them know that you are entering a time of need and that their love and support is appreciated. Give back when you are able so it’s not a one-way support. This season of life that you’re in is one that calls for community and guidance. Fortunately, it’s there for you if you look and invest in it. I would urge you to do just that.
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If you have a relationship/dating question I can help answer, you can send me your letters at [email protected].
Accessing a social worker at your ‘Department on Aging’ governmental agency (or similarly named depending upon your locality) may also offer more information about caregiving resources as his physical demands increase. Home helpers (bathing, shopping, providing ‘respite’) may or may not be available to her. Always worth checking out.
As a retired teacher, you may be eligible for a group legal benefit that you get through your retirement system (like ARAG)
Like Wendy said, run don’t walk to a specialist lawyer. Act like he will give away all your joint money. Move assets out of joint names.. Look into financial ways to lock the money up. You will be his carer and you will need every penny. The children will never change.
Talk to Agency on Aging or a social worker or a hospice service – or all of the above – and get some guidance – quickly!! You need to get doctor to get your medical evidence that your husband is no longer capable and needs guardianship. , put everything you own in a trust, etc. Protect yourself and your future!!
Everyone is giving you great advice. You need to shore up the dam and quickly gain control of all the money. This can be tricky since retirement accounts are usually in the name of the employee and the spouse cannot access it. You need legal advice NOW. If you can’t afford it, look for local legal aid and social welfare for seniors. Do it immediately.
Adult Protective Services in your area might be able to help steering you to low-cost or even free services.
Two years ago, if you’d told me I’d be sitting in my cozy apartment, watching my eight-year-old son build Lego towers on the living room floor while I sip coffee in peace, I’d have laughed—or more likely, cried. Back then, everything was crumbling. My marriage had unraveled slowly, held together only by habit and our shared love for our son, who was turning eight when it all fell apart.
My ex-husband was the breadwinner, always had been. He worked long hours in finance, earning a six-figure salary that afforded us a nice suburban house, Disney vacations, and private school for our son. I was the stay-at-home mom, managing school runs, playdates, and doctor’s appointments. But beneath the perfect facade, I had my struggles. A few years earlier, after losing my mom, I’d spiraled into substance abuse—painkillers, mostly, to numb the grief. It got bad, but I hit rock bottom and got help. Rehab, therapy, the works. By the time we separated, I’d been clean for over a year—sober, steady, and ready to rebuild.
The divorce was messy, but the custody battle was a nightmare. My ex wanted full custody, portraying me as unstable and unfit. His lawyers dug up everything: old prescriptions, ER visits, even anonymous tips from “concerned friends” who were really his family. In court, they twisted my recovery into a liability, calling it a “history of addiction” like it defined me. The judge seemed to lean toward him—stable job, big house, no baggage. I was working part-time at a bookstore, barely getting by, and my lawyer warned we were losing ground. “It’s an uphill battle,” he said. “They see him as the provider.” Preliminary hearings favored him; the guardian ad litem’s report suggested joint custody at best, with him as primary.
I was desperate, falling apart. That’s when a close friend stepped in. We’d known each other since college; she was a free spirit, into yoga, crystals, and what she called “earth-based practices”—witchcraft, essentially, though she never pushed it. One night, over sparkling water, I poured out my heart. “I’m going to lose him. He’s everything to me.” She listened, then cautiously suggested someone she knew—a practitioner, more experienced than her, who’d helped people when odds were stacked against them. “No guarantees,” she said, “but it might shift things in your favor.”
I was skeptical. Raised Catholic, I’d drifted from faith, but desperation opens your mind. She gave me the name of an older woman living on the outskirts of town in a cottage filled with herbs and books. I drove there one rainy afternoon, my son with a sitter. The woman didn’t fit the witch stereotype—no pointy hat, just warm eyes and a knowing smile. We talked for hours about my life, my regrets, my love for my son. She asked for his photo, a lock of my hair, and something of my ex’s—an old tie I’d kept by mistake. She led me through a ritual: candles, incantations in an unfamiliar language, visualizing justice and protection. “The universe listens,” she said. “But you have to fight too.” I left feeling lighter, though I figured it was just emotional release. I paid her a small fee and went home.
The change wasn’t instant, but it started subtly. My ex’s key witness, his sister, backed out last minute, citing a family emergency. Then, at a pivotal hearing, new evidence emerged: text messages from my ex admitting he’d exaggerated my issues to “protect” our son. His lawyers scrambled, but the judge wasn’t impressed. My sobriety tests were spotless, and my therapist’s testimony highlighted my resilience. The case that had been slipping away turned sharply in my favor.
In the end, I got 80-20 custody—my son with me most of the time, weekends and holidays split, but primarily mine. The child support was generous, covering rent, school, and a bit extra for savings. My ex fought it, but the judge was firm: “The child’s best interest is with the parent who’s shown consistent growth and stability.” I was stunned. He grumbled about appeals but eventually backed off, maybe realizing he’d overplayed his hand.
It’s been six months, and life feels possible again. My son is thriving—therapy helped him process the split, and we’ve built routines: pancake Sundays, park adventures, bedtime stories. I don’t know if that woman’s ritual was the turning point or if it was just hard work and luck aligning. My friend swears by it, calls it “manifesting justice.” I keep an open mind. That journey showed me strength I didn’t know I had, and maybe, just maybe, a touch of magic exists. Either way, I’m grateful. My son is safe, happy, and with me. That’s all that matters.
If you are in need of the spell caster services, you can mail him ; [email protected]. He does love spell and the likes….