• To become homeowners sooner, my wife and I bought a house with her parents.
• At first, navigating the space wasn't easy, but we're still able to have ample privacy.
• Living with my in-laws has its challenges, but I can't imagine living anywhere else.

I've known my wife's parents for nearly a decade, and we've always gotten along, but I never imagined sharing a roof with them. That all changed last year, when my wife suddenly popped the question: "How would you feel about buying a house with my mom and dad?"

We knew it would be years before we could afford the down payment on a house, particularly anywhere near Frederick, Maryland, where we wanted to live.

Even though we were both lawyers in our late 30s, we didn't have as much saved as we should have. We had each chosen lower-paying work over big-firm jobs and lost financial ground during our divorces in the late 2010s.

Without the help of my in-laws, my wife and I would've had to wait another decade or so to buy a house. But if we purchased a place together, her parents would provide the down payment, and we would cover more than half of the mortgage.

So, just like that, I agreed to become roommates with my in-laws.

The house gave all of us the space we needed, but we still had to learn how to share it

When we began our search, we envisioned a duplex — two separate living spaces joined together — but we had a hard time finding one.

We struggled even more to find a house with bedrooms on both the first and second floors, something crucial for my in-laws, since they're in their late 60s, and we didn't want them worrying about climbing stairs now or as they get older.

After several months of looking, we finally found a place that checked all the boxes: a 1950s one-story house that the previous owner had renovated to add a second floor and a finished basement.

The upstairs, where my wife and I would live, had three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a laundry space. Downstairs, where my in-laws would live, was the main kitchen and living room, a small den, a bedroom, a bathroom, and a small back kitchen.

There was enough space for all four of us — along with our two cats, our dog, and their dog — so we put in an offer.

For the first couple of months after moving in, the house was a sea of boxes, and it seemed almost impossible that we could cram all four lives into one place.

My wife and mother-in-law argued about the furniture we needed to get for the shared spaces, and we debated back and forth about what to do with the back kitchen, which we ultimately decided to convert into a laundry/mud room.

As time went on, we also had to get used to the quirks of living together. My wife works from home, which means she has to go downstairs to the main kitchen and interact with her parents before she can fully wake up. Luckily, we've just converted the upstairs laundry space into a little kitchenette, so now she can make her morning smoothie in peace.

Additionally, I learned to put on my dress shoes only when I'm on my way out of the house in the morning, as I had previously been startling my in-laws awake by clomping around in the closet just above their bedroom.

But even though we're all in the same house, my wife and I still feel like we have ample privacy. Our bedroom is large, and my in-laws don't really spend much time in the basement, so sometimes, we like to hang out there as well.

Thankfully, expenses haven't been an issue, since we split most day-to-day purchases right down the middle by contributing to a joint bank account.

Living together has made everyday life easier in ways I didn't expect

Despite the challenges, sharing a home with my in-laws for the past eight months has been great.

My mother-in-law graciously offered to make dinner most nights, so we can all sit down and have a home-cooked meal as a family. When we go out of town, my in-laws watch our dog and our cats.

Once we have children, grandma and grandpa will be right there to help, and as my in-laws get older, we'll be right there to assist them.

Obviously, there are times when we annoy each other, but I've gotten to know my in-laws much better since we became roommates. The arrangement has turned us into a family and given us more financial security, and the plan is never to move again.

• I was diagnosed with ADHD at 38. I spent most of my life masking things I didn't know were ADHD.
• Instead of pretending I'm fine, I tell my sons when my brain is full and my battery is running low.
• I'm teaching them that everybody has different limits and it's important to know and respect them.

There are nights when I look at my two boys, 13 and 10, and announce, "My battery is at 1%."

They know what this means.

I get much quieter. The pile of clothes I told myself I was going to fold gets moved to the floor and becomes tomorrow's problem. Video game sounds that normally wouldn't bother me suddenly send my whole system into overdrive. If both kids are talking to me at once, I sometimes have to say, "I can't process what either one of you is saying right now."

Eventually, I can hit what feels like an actual wall. I go into a burnout shutdown where decision-making becomes almost impossible. My brain feels frozen. I know there are things I should be doing, but I can't organize them into a next step. If I'm overstimulated enough, I can barely formulate a cohesive thought.

Sometimes the only thing that helps is going into my room, closing the door, and sitting in complete silence.

I don't hide this from my kids. I let them see it on purpose.

I spent most of my life not knowing my brain worked differently

I was diagnosed with ADHD at 38. Until then, I genuinely didn't know other people's brains worked the way mine did. The best way I can describe my brain is that there are three musicals happening on three different stages at the same time. There are songs, conversations, ideas, and a constant stream of thoughts all competing for my attention.

From the outside, I looked highly functional. I was an A+ student. I worked hard. I got things done. I became an entrepreneur.

Internally, I was exhausted to the point that it sometimes felt like an existential level.

I remember hitting this same wall when I was around the same age as my sons. My parents didn't understand what was happening, and why would they? ADHD wasn't something anyone was considering for me. I wasn't physically hyperactive. All of the pinging was happening inside my head. So I learned to push through it and, eventually, to look calm while doing it.

In our family, we talk about our batteries

Our family therapist gave us an analogy that has become part of our language: Everybody is like a cell phone. Our batteries drain differently, and they recharge differently.

My older son is an introvert like me. We can love being around people and still need significant quiet afterward. For me, recharging means real quiet — a chunk of time when nobody is talking to me, asking me a question, or needing me to make a decision.

My younger son, who also has ADHD, is almost the opposite. I always say he's fueled by people. Talking to friends and being around other people can actually charge him. I love that distinction because even people whose brains are wired similarly don't necessarily need the same things.

There isn't one correct way to recharge.

I want my kids to know before they're 38

Being a single parent means I can't disappear into silence every time my battery gets low. Sometimes the video game is still playing. Somebody still needs something. Life keeps happening.

I've stopped believing that being a good mother means hiding the fact that I have limits. I'm not asking my children to take care of me. I'm letting them know me.

I want them to understand that people who love each other get to be human in front of one another. You can say, "I need quiet." You can say, "I need people." You can say, "My brain is too full right now." Limits aren't character flaws, and rest isn't something you earn only after you've completely depleted yourself.

For most of my life, I thought strength meant pushing through until nobody could tell I was struggling. I'm trying to teach my kids something different: learn what drains your battery. Learn what charges it. Tell the people you love what you need. And don't wait until you're at 1% to plug yourself back in.

• I'm a dietitian and let my two kids enjoy Halloween candy without making them feel guilty.
• After trick-or-treating, I let them each choose five favorite pieces of candy to save for later.
• The Candy Fairy takes the rest and leaves a small toy, making the exchange fun rather than a punishment.

Editor's note: Do you let your kids keep all their Halloween candy? Do you have them pick a few they can keep? Share in the comments what your approach is.

Every Halloween, I know exactly what's coming: two excited kids, costumes, a neighborhood full of candy, and by the end of the night, bags that seemingly weigh almost as much as they do.

They look forward to trick-or-treating for months. Every year it's the same: despite my annual request that they wait until we get home to start eating their haul, more candy than I'd like gets eaten while we're still walking around the neighborhood.

I'm a registered dietitian, but I'm also a mom. Halloween is supposed to be fun, the kind of event that becomes a core childhood memory. I want my kids to feel "normal" in the best sense of the word. I want them to run from house to house, trade candy, and enjoy the same traditions as their friends without feeling like they have different rules because their mom happens to be a dietitian.

At the same time, I want them to understand balance.

When we get home, they may each have a few more pieces. Then we dump everything out, and they choose about five favorite pieces to save for later.

The rest goes to the Candy Fairy.

My kids write letters to the Candy Fairy

The Candy Fairy takes the extra candy and leaves a small toy in exchange. My kids even write her letters and put them in the mailbox. It turns getting rid of the excess into something fun instead of a punishment.

They still get the excitement of collecting candy and choosing the pieces they really love, while having some control over what stays. I'm not deciding which candy they're allowed to keep or telling them what they should like. They get to decide which pieces are worth saving and which ones they're ready to give up. I get to avoid having a ridiculous amount of candy sitting in the house until Thanksgiving.

My daughter may be starting to outgrow the tradition now, at 9 years old, but my son probably has a few more Candy Fairy years left. Eventually, though, I hope the tradition evolves with them.

Instead of sending the candy to a fairy, we can donate it to an organization they feel good about supporting. They'll still get that sense of pride and reward, only by then, the Candy Fairy will just be Mom, celebrating an act of kindness.

I want them to still enjoy their candy

There's also a practical reason this approach works for our family: our food environment matters. One phrase I often use is, "In house, in mouth." When I say that, I mean that food is harder to ignore when it's staring you in the face every time you open the pantry.

Halloween creates a strange kind of stress for parents. We don't want to teach our kids to fear candy, but we also don't want pounds of treats sitting in the house for weeks on end.

For me, it simply isn't worth that mental energy. I'm OK with having less Halloween candy around for a few days. Another family might feel fine keeping it for a month, and some may hardly be affected by it at all. There isn't a one-size-fits-all correct deadline.

I don't believe promoting a healthy relationship with food means pretending every food serves the same purpose. My kids know candy doesn't nourish their bodies the way the foods we eat every day do. It's a treat, a "fun food." Halloween is an occasion to enjoy those treats. I want my kids to enjoy their candy and not feel guilty about it. What I don't want is one night of celebration quietly stretching into a month simply because we happened to collect too much.

To me, teaching balance means holding both ideas at once: something can be enjoyable without needing to be available in unlimited amounts. That's the middle ground I'm trying to teach my kids. To me, food freedom includes structure. Boundaries simply make expectations clear.

The extra candy doesn't have to go in the trash

Families can look for local donation programs. Soldiers' Angels runs Treats for Troops, which collects Halloween candy for service members, veterans, and military communities. Some dental offices and community organizations may also serve as collection sites, so it's worth checking local options. Some families might freeze a few favorite chocolates or save candy for baking.

The point is not that there is one perfect way to handle it.

Our rule is simple: Enjoy Halloween. Eat some candy. Pick a few pieces you really love. Then let the Candy Fairy, or a good cause, handle the rest. For our family, that feels like the right balance.

My kids get to be kids, participate like everyone else, get excited about costumes, have fun with their friends, enjoy the candy on Halloween night, and learn that food freedom and boundaries can exist together.

• My husband and I live in a separate house on the same property as my parents and siblings.
• Our unique living arrangement has come with lots of surprises along the way.
• Even though we live so close to each other, we have boundaries and our own separate lives.

In 2024, my husband and I began building our own house on the same property as my parents, siblings, and sister-in-law, creating a "family compound." In total, there are two separate houses, nine family members, and three adorable golden retrievers on the property.

Our family has always spent a lot of time together, but before moving into our new home in April, I don't think I truly understood what day-to-day life would be like.

Here are the biggest surprises I've encountered so far.

My family and I still have our own separate lives.

Although my husband, daughter, and I live next door to the rest of my family, we still have our own houses, routines, and lives. Some days, when we all happen to be on different pages, we don't see each other at all.

I think this balance is a huge part of what makes our setup successful. No one feels as though they are on top of each other, and my husband and I can simply take our daughter to our house, close the door, and be our own little family.

Privacy and boundaries are still possible, even when living so close together.

For us, one of the keys to making our living arrangement successful is respect for personal space and boundaries.

For example, my younger siblings don't come over to my house after about 8:00 p.m. because they know my daughter is asleep and my husband and I are likely settling in for the night. This isn't something we ever had to ask them to do, they just respect our privacy and nightly routine.

The same goes for my parents. They text my husband and me before popping over to visit and always avoid walking into our house unannounced.

A lot of people don't seem to understand multigenerational living.

Since sharing our family compound on social media, I was taken aback by how many people assumed that our family was part of a religious group or separate "community," rather than our setup being an example of multigenerational living.

I knew that "family compounds" aren't incredibly common nowadays, at least in the United States, but I definitely didn't think they were so widely misunderstood.

People appear to confuse our setup with communal living, rather than our family simply living as neighbors next to each other.

Casual get-togethers and dinners happen spontaneously.

I've been pleasantly surprised by how much easier casual get-togethers, dinners, and hangouts are.

I can just pop over to my parents' house and then "head home" whenever I want to. I don't need a reason to leave or an excuse to use if I'm just not feeling social.

We also don't typically find ourselves planning get-togethers; they just kind of happen. I can wake up on a Saturday morning with no plans, and within an hour, everyone is hanging out by the pool, playing yard games, and cooking food together.

Having my family around has really improved my mental health.

As a stay-at-home mom, having my siblings and parents around throughout the week makes day-to-day life with a toddler so much more enjoyable.

Our setup gives me other adults to interact with, another set of hands when I need them, and simply remedies any of the aspects of motherhood that can otherwise feel lonely.

It's also a game changer for me to have my own mom as a resource. Rather than turning to Google, I can walk across the driveway and pick my mom's brain for parenting advice as a first-time mom.

My marriage has actually gotten even stronger since living here.

One of the many perks that I did not anticipate was how much the support of a village would benefit my relationship with my husband.

With other people around to lend a hand with our daughter, direct access to girl time with my mom and sister, and my husband having the ability to go watch a football game with my dad or play basketball with my brothers, we have easier access to hobbies and self-care outlets as parents. This leaves more quality time for us as a couple.

Our setup felt 'normal' pretty quickly.

It's taken me by surprise how after only living in our home for six months, this setup already feels so natural and "normal." I can't imagine going back to living even 15 minutes down the road from our family.

Sometimes it takes people asking questions or sharing their opinion on our living arrangements to remind me that our setup is a whole lot less common than I think.

When I think back to my expectations surrounding a 'family compound' prior to moving into our home, I had only really envisioned the more overarching concepts such as family dinners, lots of quality time and no longer having to drive to visit each other.

However, I didn't realize how many of the small details would make such a positive impact on our day-to-day lives.