Care and Feeding is Slate’s parenting advice column. Have a question for Care and Feeding? Submit it here.

Dear Care and Feeding,

My friend “Mandy” had a child three years ago, and since then, she has become shut off, cold, and distant. Motherhood has become a wedge between us. She simultaneously envies my childfree life and resents me for it, while also characterizing me as somebody without any emotional profundity or understanding of the world because I don’t have children. This is painful for me, since the primary reason I don’t is that I am infertile (and my husband and I don’t have the money for IVF or adoption). It’s true that I have come to genuinely love my childfree life, but her perspective still stings.

Good times between us are rare to nonexistent. She indicates that I don’t help her enough, or in the ways that she wants, but I offer to help and she declines—or she “lets” me help but I don’t do it right, except she never gives me feedback as to how I can do/be better. And she has little investment or even interest in my life.

I know she’s been depressed. She’s told me that when I go on vacation, she feels completely alone, that I’m the only person she really has. She makes excuses for why therapy and/or medication are out of the question. She won’t reach out to other friends. I don’t know what to do. She is like a sister to me; I’m not willing to abandon her. She fiercely cared for me after my suicide attempt years ago. And I don’t believe in cutting off people you love when they become burdensome. But I have to face facts: I am no longer her friend—I am her caretaker.

I’m not sure you can provide a game plan as much as perspective or advice. I ache for “the old” Mandy, for the years and years we spent lifting each other up. I feel guilty about not wanting to interact with her, but it is exhausting when I do.

—How Do I Persist?

Dear Persist,

If you are getting absolutely nothing out of this relationship, then staying in it and continuing to feel resentful, hurt, and exhausted by it is not the opposite of “abandoning” Mandy. It’s self-flagellating. It seems to me you are holding on because what you can’t bring yourself to abandon is the hope you’re hanging onto that “the old” Mandy will return. She will not. Becoming a parent changes a person.

And on top of the shifting of priorities, interests (possibly), and experience of the world, your friend—you believe—is depressed. She needs help. But you can neither force her to get that help (it sounds like you’ve tried) nor can you be that help. You should not be her caretaker. You cannot be her therapist.

If you want to continue this relationship, then you need to change its terms. Stop taking care of Mandy. See what happens when you try to engage with her about your life. Don’t be a martyr. And maybe, if you want to help (which is not the same thing as “take care of”) her, give her some childfree time of her own—take her 3-year-old out for an afternoon (and then don’t take it to heart if Mandy criticizes the job you did with her; just say, “Ah, sorry, I did my best and we had fun—I look forward to the next time”) or spend time with both of them together doing something that will be fun for the child and not taxing for Mandy (go to the playground or a pool or have a picnic together). And you must let go of the idea you’re still nurturing of the old idealized friendship you and Mandy had. Things are different now. They won’t go back to the way they were.

You have a choice: Enter into a different sort of friendship with Mandy, on terms that you can live with and that support her during what sounds like a rough time for her, or step away from Mandy altogether. Either of these is a fair option. Sticking with the status quo and being miserable about it is not.

Dear Care and Feeding,

I love both my boys equally, but I’m worried my actions don’t reflect that. “Toby” loves makeup, and we spend time together trying out new creative looks, during which we have all types of discussions, both deep and casual. He is also learning to play guitar, so we’ve been jamming together, which is a lot of fun for both of us!

“Ronnie,” my other son, prefers solitary activities (video games, reading), so it’s hard for me to figure out ways for us to have fun together. I’ve researched (and suggested) two-player games and offered to buy them so we can play them together, but he says he likes playing by himself, and I certainly don’t want to force him to do something he doesn’t want to do just so that I can spend time with him. Still, I want us to spend quality time together. And before you say, “Find something you can do with both kids at once,” I should tell you that he isn’t interested in learning to play an instrument or in singing with Toby and me. Besides, I really think I should have 1:1 time with him, just as I do with his brother. So many people write in here saying their parents favored a sibling, and it breaks my heart to think that Ronnie might eventually feel that way if I don’t make an effort now to change things. But what can I do?

—Mom of Two

Dear Two,

So you have one kid who shares your interests (and is perhaps temperamentally more like you, too) and another who doesn’t (and isn’t?). I hope I can help you reframe the way you’re thinking about this.

It’s easy for you to spend time with Toby because his fun is your fun—you can slot right into his activities, and you do so with pleasure. It sounds like the things you do with him are things you’d be doing anyway—on your own, or with friends. That’s a stroke of luck for both of you. But it is luck, and it’s important not to confuse good luck with good parenting. When it comes to Ronnie, you are SOL, as you’ve learned, if you approach him from the point of view of What can we do together that would also be fun for me?

My hunch is that your offering to buy and play a two-person video game—and, even more, your suggesting that he join the family band—feels to him less like an expression of interest in/love for him than it does an effort on your own behalf. I don’t blame you for wanting to have fun (who doesn’t?) nor do I fault you for being confused by how easy it is to spend time one-on-one with one of your children and how hard it seems to be to do that with the other.

But the key is to let Ronnie lead the way, and to be attentive to his needs, inclinations, and personality. He likes solitary activities: Don’t try to turn them into something else. And instead of guessing what he might enjoy and presenting that to him, set aside time with him and let him know, well in advance, that you’re up for doing whatever he wants to do with that time. If he sullenly says, “Nothing”—or even objects to the very idea of spending time with you, acting as if it’s a punishment (you don’t say how old either of these kids are, but if Ronnie is anywhere between 11 and full grown, and especially if he’s 13 or 14, this strikes me as a real possibility)—then cheerfully toss out a range of suggestions. These could be various places you two could go together—a wide variety—or a walk, a hike, a swim, some other activity, a meal out, a bookstore run, a class you could take together (karate? Ceramics? Kite-making?). Then tell him he can pick one, a combination, or use your far-ranging list as a starting point for his own ideas. If he acts like the thought of reserving time for the two of you to spend together, doing anything, is pure torture (see age 14 or so, above), remain cheerful and stay the course. Tell him, “Well, I want to spend time with you, buddy.”

He may surprise you with a request to do something you’ve never thought of doing (indoor rock climbing? Zine-making? Going to see a play? Visiting a particular museum?). And who knows? This kid, who is not your mini-me, may end up expanding your horizons.

Catch Up on Care and Feeding

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Dear Care and Feeding,

My daughters, “Sadie” (34) and “Molly” (36), have always been very close and competitive. We all live within an hour’s drive, so their dad and I see them both at least once a month, usually all of us together.

Sadie and her husband are expecting their first child this fall. They’re very concerned about the “brain rot” afflicting children from excessive screen time, and are determined to protect their child from it. Their current plan is no screens at all until age 2; only movies on TV or in the theater from 2 to 6; and severely limited use of phones and tablets after 6. They run their own business from home (and don’t plan on using daycare at all), have already joined a play group of like-minded parents, and have picked out a private school with very strict policies on cell phones. In short, they are very determined about this.

Molly has two kids, a daughter who’s 11 and a son who’s 7, and has been divorced with joint custody for almost five years. Even before the divorce, her kids were raised on tablets, which she saw as necessary given her and her now ex-husband’s stressful work schedules. Since the divorce, her ex has imposed no restrictions whatsoever on the kids’ screen time, so she’s given up trying when they’re with her. Her son is delayed in reading but is getting help through his school. (Unfortunately, tablet time is the only thing that motivates him.) Her daughter does reasonably well in school, but is so addicted to her phone that it’s hard to have a conversation with her. She has a meltdown if Molly tries to take it away, even at bedtime.

Whenever Sadie mentions her plan to raise a screen-free child, Molly makes cracks about secretly showing the child “Cocomelon” videos. Naturally, this upsets Sadie, who is hormonal and thus more volatile than usual. I know Molly is acting out of guilt and feelings of inferiority about her own parenting, but I don’t know how to point this out without in turn upsetting Molly. Sadie has told me privately that she’s barely holding back from bringing up the issues directly with Molly’s kids. What is the best way for me to handle this?

—Distressed Mom

Dear Distressed,

Stay out of it.

—Michelle

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