It’s not the way they thought they’d be spending their older years: getting two tweens ready for school and scraping together meals from food banks.
At the crack of dawn one Tuesday morning, 59-year-old Vicki Parisella bangs on her granddaughters’ bedroom doors. Silence from Myaliissa’s room; a whine from Tatiana’s. Minutes later, Tatiana drags her backpack into the living room.
“Your shirt’s on backward,” Vicki tells the 11-year-old.
As if Vicki flipped an on-switch, Tatiana zooms around the living room while Vicki’s husband, Sal, packs their lunches. Vicki braids Tatiana’s hair and helps her put on her shoes as Myaliissa, 13, gets dressed. By 7:20, Vicki already has a headache.
Vicki and Sal, 76, are part of a growing population of 1.1 million US grandparents 60 and older who have returned to parenting roles when they expected to be retiring.
Business Insider has spoken to more than 50 grandparents in this position in recent months. They said they’ve taken up parenting duties because of a child’s death, drug use, or health issues. They all said they would make the decision to raise their grandchildren again in a heartbeat, though with few resources, most agreed that every day brought new financial and emotional challenges.
Like many of the grandparents who spoke to Business Insider, Vicki and Sal rarely have enough money to make it through the month. Vicki, who’s the sole breadwinner due to Sal’s kidney condition, overdrew her bank account paying rent earlier this year. The family gets most of its meals from food banks. In July, they got an eviction notice they’re disputing.
But all that can wait for later. For now, Vicki has to get the kids to school.
“We’re going to be late. Run to the car,” Vicki shouts.
Tatiana sprints, her lunchbox flopping by her side. Myaliissa follows, not saying a word.
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After dropping the girls at school, Vicki lights a cigarette. She calls Sal as she winds through traffic in her 2023 Toyota Camry on the way to her accounts payable job.
“I caught the freaking train,” she tells Sal as she gets stuck at a crossing. She arrives at her desk with 30 seconds to spare. Crisis averted this time, she says, knowing full well the train could ruin her morning tomorrow.
Vicki can’t afford to risk her job, which nets her $615 a week. Sal receives $1,435 monthly in Social Security. It’s enough for the family to break even, unless something breaks or someone gets sick.
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US Census data in 2024 showed that more than 3 million children lived in households with grandparents who had some responsibility for their care. To avoid the foster care system and give their grandchildren a shot at promising futures, some grandparents have sacrificed their financial security, retirements, social life, and physical and mental well-being.
“What’s going to happen to them if I die, since I don’t want them in foster care?” Rebecca Black, 63, said she frequently asks herself as a grandmother raising two grandsons in Texas. Black said she’s been financially strained, but retired so she could be more present in their lives.
Madalyn Conchola, 62, said that her four granddaughters, ages 7 through 19, struggled after she adopted them. With few financial or community support resources, most of her $70,000 annual salary, plus a small state subsidy, goes toward raising them. Five years and lots of hard work later, she said her granddaughters have all been thriving in school.
“As time goes on, my age and my ability to work and earn money loom over me,” said Conchola, in Arizona. “I’m looking for other ways to try to generate an income.”
It’s a concern that has plagued Vicki and Sal. They’ve had temporary custody of their granddaughters since their daughter Siobhan’s relationship fell apart in 2017. The 36-year-old still sees the girls, but said she hasn’t been able to get back on her feet to raise them full time.
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“I do feel bad because of the burden of everything they have, but there’s nothing really that I can do right now about it until I move closer,” says Siobhan, who lives in Tampa.
That year, the family was evicted from their three-bedroom home in Lakeland because they couldn’t afford the $1,143 rent. They moved to a Salvation Army shelter and were able to get by with assistance from her coworkers and Vicki’s sister, Nicole Spottke.
“They’re both incredibly patient. They get frustrated, as would anyone who’s exhausted does, but the girls are raised really well,” said Spottke, 55. “Vicki would like to be able to give them more financially, but truly, I wish she’d get it through her head that the time that she gives to the kids — that’s so much more important.”
After two years, they were able to rent a home with a small pool, enough room for the girls to run around, and a quiet space for Vicki to decompress. The house wasn’t without its problems —mold, flooding, and broken appliances — but for five years, it did the job. Vicki said their lives slowly improved.
When that house sold two years ago, they saw a huge rent spike when securing their next home — to $2,075 monthly, leaving them with $725 less to spend on everything else — food, clothes for the girls, and gas. They often come up short. Their backyard is covered with weeds, their front lawn is uneven, and the house is old, but unable to find any other place in their budget, they renewed their lease.
“We know there are people worse off than us, but I need to vent because I’m frustrated,” Vicki says in her dark living room. She keeps the lights off to save electricity.
As she drives to pick up the girls, Vicki pauses at a stoplight and lets out a sigh. Every minute and every dollar matters, she says. Still, she tries not to push her frustrations onto her granddaughters.
“If the girls were taken from us, I would lose it because I’d be worried constantly,” Vicki says, crossing over two lanes of traffic.
Vicki and Sal have been unable to permanently adopt their grandchildren because their father hasn’t signed over his rights. If they challenged him in court, lawyers told them it could prompt him to try to regain custody, and they could lose the girls
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Other grandparents told Business Insider how they have struggled to secure permanent parental rights. Though policies vary by state, the parents must generally relinquish their parental rights first, or grandparents must prove that the parents are unable or unwilling to care for their child — often due to neglect, incarceration, or severe illness — while showing that granting custody is in the child’s best interest.
The complicated legal process often leaves grandparents with little financial assistance while raising their grandchildren because they often don’t qualify for the same benefits as foster parents. Business Insider spoke with some grandparents who spent as much as $70,000 to secure legal custody.
Carol Leonard, 65, decided not to go to court to get custody of her two teenage grandsons in Louisiana. She can’t afford an attorney; the last one she spoke with requested $800 upfront. Because the father’s parental rights have not been terminated, he would be able to petition the court to regain custody. Still, she’s been able to enroll them in school and get them medical care.
Siobhan, the girls’ mother, said she is willing to relinquish her parental rights. She said she calls Myaliissa and Tatiana frequently. She lives with her fiancé and works in retail. Siobhan also lost custody of her two other children, who live with her fiancé’s parents.
“I of course know them, but I don’t really know them,” Siobhan says of her daughters. “I could name a few things that they like and what they’re into, but I don’t know everything.”
Vicki and Sal still hope they’ll be able to adopt the girls someday, though they know the road will be long and tiring. Would they change anything about the lengths they’ve taken to protect the girls? “No freaking way,” Vicki says.
Running late to pick up the girls from school, Vicki hurls her purse over her shoulder and gives Sal a kiss. She gets into her car, which they bought in January after their previous one was repossessed. It’s been years since she’s gotten her nails done or gone to the dentist. She’s upped her anxiety medications. They’ve discussed bankruptcy with their lawyer.
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Myaliissa and Tatiana both attend private school because their grandparents wanted an education infused with Christian values. Tuition is covered by scholarships; uniforms cost an extra $300 a year for both girls. On a recent report card, Tatiana got five As — and a Krispy Kreme doughnut from the school for each. For years, Myaliissa was chatty and animated, but she’s recently gone back into her shell.
Children who have lived through adverse experiences with their birth parents are at increased risk for physical, developmental, and behavioral challenges, said Carol Musil, who spent years studying grandparents who served as primary caregivers while at Case Western Reserve University in Ohio. Her research shows that applies to caregivers as well; grandmothers raising grandchildren often have worse physical health, depressive symptoms, and stress compared to other grandmothers.
Tatiana and Myaliissa have missed out on some staples of childhood, including summer camp and most after-school activities. Yvette Lovell, Myaliissa’s godmother, who has taught both girls at school, says the Parisellas are “salt-of-the-earth kind of people” who don’t have enough support. She’s seen Vicki and Sal make tough sacrifices, including shielding them from family drama.
“I’ve been in education for almost 40 years, and I can count the number of grandparents who have taken on being the core for the grandchildren as they have,” Lovell says.
Back home from school, as the night progresses, Tatiana becomes restless. She’d like to stay up an hour later, running around the house, tickling Vicki and Sal. She grabs the family’s photo book and heads to her room. Myaliissa drags her blanket through the hallway to her room.
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Tatiana grabs the book and looks through it as Vicki and Sal get her ready for bed. She sees snapshots of the family’s trip to Disney World and the time when they all put their feet in the ocean at Cocoa Beach. Absent are photos of the times Vicki shielded the girls from flooding, the court documents that determined their futures, and the tough conversations the grandparents had about whether to buy milk or pay the electricity bill.
For now, all that matters is those genuine smiles on the last page, conveying joy that, if only for a day here and there, keeps them going.
“We want you to have that when we’re not around anymore,” Vicki tells her, reaching for a hug. “We want you to remember and say, ‘Grandma and Grandpa took good care of me.’”