My parents could spend their retirement doing anything. They chose to help raise my children.

This story is based on an interview with Dr.

Brintha Vasagar, 42, a family physician from Milwaukee.

It has been edited for length and clarity.

When my husband, Tim, 41, and I finally got pregnant, one of the best things was telling my parents.

They’d followed every step of our fertility journey.

Mom and Dad, now 74, a former homemaker and an engineer, respectively, were as delighted as we were; super excited to welcome their first grandchild.

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A few months before I was due, Tim raised the subject of childcare. “Do you think we should sign up for day care?” he said.

My parents had insisted for years that they would babysit our kids when they arrived — not only babysit, but watch them full-time.

Tim had assumed they’d been joking, and he called my mom to check. “Are you sure you want to spend your retirement this way?” he asked. “You bet we do,” she said.

They were at the hospital when I delivered our first son, Luxman, in August 2023, and have barely left our sides.

We’ve been under the same roof since.

Six months ago, the family welcomed Luxman’s baby brother, Devan, as our latest, much-loved addition.

My boomer parents were born in Sri Lanka, where multi-generational living is far more common than in America.

It’s funny to think about it, but Tim actually moved in with Mom and Dad for a while before we got married.

I was living elsewhere at the time because I was on a rotation as a doctor, but Tim’s lease had expired.

He needed somewhere to stay before we got our own apartment, and my folks stepped in as temporary landlords.

There’s nothing temporary about our arrangement now.

However, when someone asks about it, I make it clear that my parents live with us, not the other way around.

It’s a completely different vibe from when I grew up within their four walls.

I wouldn’t say Tim and I set the rules, but Mom and Dad are happy to adapt to our way of doing things.

Our house in Milwaukee is pretty large, especially for a property that’s over 100 years old.

My parents’ bedroom is on the first floor, which gives us some breathing space, but we share a kitchen, living room, and everything else.

Tim, who works in finance, and I work long hours, mostly in our offices.

It’s great to know that our kids are in the best possible hands when we’re not around.

Mom tends to do much of the cooking — often delicious vegetarian South Asian dishes — and is in charge of bottle feeding Devan.

I’d say that Dad is the chief bottle washer, who knows everything there is to know about sterilizing equipment.

He’s also the “fun guy” who hangs out with Luxman, reading him lots of books and teaching him science tricks.

We recently returned from a joint vacation to Europe.

His pre-school teachers were impressed because he said, “I went to Portugal and ate croissants.” He speaks like a 70-something.

It makes sense because his best friends are 74.

My parents and I have never clashed about child-raising techniques.

They respect today’s medical research into caring for kids.

I taught them how to swaddle both babies.

As for enjoying retirement, they still do things on their own, such as volunteering, traveling, and visiting my sister in Philadelphia.

The children get to spend a love-filled time with their grandparents, as millennials, Tim and I are reassured about their well-being, and the situation keeps Mom and Dad’s minds active.

They have a purpose, unlike some older adults who sadly suffer loneliness and expect a decline.

Running around after a toddler is challenging.

Dad had major surgery in April, and the doctors recommended lift restrictions.

Being able to hold Devan again motivated him to recover more quickly.

Many people have a visceral reaction because they imagine what life might be like if their own parents moved in.