Nearly half of American adults under 30, pinched by the high cost of housing, are living with a parent. It can be an adjustment for both.
5 min
Samantha Stobo was fresh off a breakup and unable to afford her Manhattan two-bedroom alone. So the 29-year-old decided to move in with her mom in Miami until she could get back on her feet. She told herself it would only take a few months.
Now 33-years old, Stobo has no plans to move out.
“I thought it was going to be temporary,” Stobo said. “But it’s been three years now, and I love it.”
Living at home as a 20-something was once viewed as a failure to launch and even a source of embarrassment in a culture that places a premium on independence. That is no longer the case. Living at home is now often viewed as a sign of financial prudence, and for some, a long-term prospect.
Chronically high living costs are helping reshape the milestones of early adulthood in America. The national median home price hovers above $400,000. Rents are at record highs in cities across the U.S., and many recent college graduates are saddled with tens of thousands of dollars in student debt.
Even though some of these young adults pay their folks rent, it tends to be well below the cost of living on their own.
“Everything is just out of reach,” said 28-year-old Megan Talley, who lives at home with her mom in the Atlanta suburbs. If a young person wants to live alone, “you could do it, but you would be dead broke at the end of the month.”
Last year, 49% of adults under age 30 said they lived with a parent, up 12 percentage points from 2019, according to the Federal Reserve’s latest Survey of Household Economics and Decisionmaking. Nearly a third of those adults were 25 or older.
Some economists put that figure lower and note that the Fed study doesn’t distinguish between children living in their parents’ homes versus parents living in their children’s homes.
Still, young people say that living at home in 2026 doesn’t carry the stigma it once did because of how unaffordable life has become. About 55% of young adults who moved back home said it was out of financial necessity, according to a spring survey by financial services firm Thrivent.
So many parents and adult children are living together now that it is beginning to transform aspects of American society—from when members of the younger generation start a family to the way builders think about designing homes.
Far from hiding it, some now broadcast their lives as “stay-at-home daughters” or “stay-at-home sons” on social media. Stobo says posting about her mother-daughter living situation on TikTok has earned her a friendly comment section filled with others in the same position—and makes her some money.
“No one ever judges me,” she said. “The conversation tends to be more like, ‘That’s awesome, and I bet you’re saving money.’”
Casey Wright, 28-years-old, moved back home to Oxford, Mich., three years ago after being laid off from two consecutive jobs. She redecorated her childhood bedroom to match her adult aesthetic, tearing down her Twilight posters and choir awards and hanging a floral tapestry and framed landscapes.
She and her parents have come to an agreement on living together as adults. She no longer has a curfew, for instance. But before she goes out, Wright’s parents require her to tell them where she’s going and what time she expects to be back.
The Wrights have dinner together every night and go golfing or walking together a few times a month. Casey still hangs out in her parents’ room occasionally to talk about movies with her dad or to gossip with her mom.
She just doesn’t spend time with her parents quite as often as she did when she was a child and is more often in her room playing videogames or reading. “It’s not as much as when I was younger, because I feel like there’s almost that separation that’s needed as an adult,” she said. “You’re not just living in your childhood home as a child.”
Multigenerational living has long been more of a norm among Hispanic, Asian and Black households, along with immigrant families.
During the pandemic, a broader swath of 20-somethings returned home. It was supposed to be short-term; then came record inflation and double-digit rent increases.
By July 2020, 52% of young Americans age 18 to 29 lived with at least one parent, according to a Pew Research Center analysis of census data. It was the first time a majority of young adults in the country had lived with parents since the Great Depression. That share has likely dropped since then, but for some people the arrangements have stuck.
Living with parents became a “dominant living arrangement in America for people in this age group,” said Laurence Steinberg, a Temple University psychology professor who recently wrote the book “You and Your Adult Child.”
States such as California and New York have loosened regulations around building accessory dwelling units in recent years. Once nicknamed “granny flats,” ADUs are now used to house budget-squeezed adult children.
Villa Homes, a California home builder, is used to this kind of customer. The firm is seeing more families add detached ADUs for their grown children or other relatives, to live in for a few years and save money for a starter home.
Carmen Johnson, 33, has loved living with her parents in the Detroit metro area since the start of Covid. She doesn’t pay rent, splits grocery bills with her family and invests those savings in her music career and toward a future home. It beats barely making ends meet in her old Los Angeles apartment.
“Covid flipped the script,” Johnson said. “It’s a blessing in disguise.”
She isn’t ashamed of living at home, and doesn’t judge other people for it either. But she wouldn’t necessarily reveal it to a first date unless asked directly.
Bringing home a date also requires a bit of mental calculus.
“It’s like, ‘OK, is my dad going to be in the living room watching TV?’” Johnson said.
Sometimes, that kind of strategizing goes both ways. Jessica Suzio, a 52-year old widow in Michigan, has tried to get back into the dating scene in recent years. But with her two sons living at home, both in their mid-20s, bringing back a new boyfriend is uncomfortable for all involved, she said.
Suzio is happy to have her sons at home, and they help with household expenses by paying her some rent.
“When they were younger, I was daydreaming about the days that I would be an empty-nester,” she said. “But I’ve grown to really appreciate them sticking around.”
Kevin Grolig, a 59-year-old real-estate agent in the D.C. metro area, started noticing that his clients were delaying downsizing their homes because their adult children were still living there. So he came up with a “four-step plan” to get grown children out of the house. The most important: agree on a move-out timeline before the child even steps back in the door.
Casey Wright in Michigan doesn’t pay rent, but her father, Craig, said she has been a big help around the house. She does much of the grocery shopping, helps with the cooking and has learned to use the riding lawn mower, manicuring the yard when Craig is busy.
About five times a day, she says, her mom knocks on her door, often to ask for help with technology.
“If I had the ability to, I would move out tomorrow,” Wright said. Nothing against her parents, “I would just love to have the freedom to do what they were doing at my age.”
Wright’s father wishes the same for his daughter. He and his wife expected to have an empty nest by now.
But he realizes that the housing market is different today than when he was in his 30s in the 1980s and bought a three-bedroom home for $70,000, less than a fifth of today’s median home price. He estimates his salary back then was about $35,000.
Some of Craig’s friends also have adult children living at home. “It’s kind of normal,” he said.
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Georgetown agent Jamie Peva blends history and real estate on Instagram, turning local stories into a powerful sales strategy.
5 min
On a recent morning in Georgetown—Washington, D.C.’s oldest neighborhood—real-estate agent Jamie Peva strode down leafy N Street, brimming with historical tidbits.
Jackie Kennedy once lived on the street, he said. So did Ben Bradlee, former executive editor of the Washington Post, along with a former Miss America and a powerful U.S. Senator. Bradlee’s widow, author Sally Quinn, and Eric Schmidt, former CEO of Google, own stately homes there.
“I’ve seen a picture of Lyndon Johnson coming out of this house,” said Peva, passing a Federal-style brick mansion. “Also, the Beatles went to a lawn party here.”
Peva, a 60-year-old agent with Washington Fine Properties, has sold Georgetown real estate for over three decades, often traversing the neighborhood by bicycle. Of the roughly 2,500 houses in the historic neighborhood, he has been involved in the sale of 460, he estimated. A self-styled historian of the neighborhood, he knows stories behind its houses and their owners going back generations.
With a knack for lively storytelling, he shares his knowledge with some 37,500 Instagram followers, who have made Peva—sporting the bow ties he has worn since boarding school—an unlikely social-media influencer. Many of his followers are locals, and most have no plans to buy or sell real estate—until they do. It is then, according to Peva, that his spirited reels bring him to mind.
“It’s the digital version of a refrigerator magnet,” he said.
After Peva’s first video in November 2023, his eponymous Instagram account sparked a 10% increase in sales volume in the first year, and another 20% the next, he estimated. “It’s been very good for business, there is no question about it,” he said.
But Peva’s posts have also made him a local celebrity. As he walked down N street, the driver of a Mercedes station wagon slowed down to honk and wave. A lady walking a large dark gray dog stopped to ask what he was filming that day (a reel about a Colonial-era bottling plant.) Peva knew the dog from walking his two springers, Jumpy and Peggy-O, in the neighborhood.
“I need to make a video about the pooches of Georgetown,” he mused.
A growing number of real-estate agents now use social media to sell, and some have millions of followers with reels featuring ultraluxury pads, selling tips or reality TV-style reports on their daily lives. While Peva posts about his listings—and sometimes those of other agents—he mostly focuses on Georgetown history, local businesses and community events, saying his goal is to benefit both his business and the neighborhood.
“If we don’t find something genuinely interesting and worth sharing, we won’t do it,” said Peva’s daughter, Violet Peva, a New York social-media strategist who films, edits and posts his reels. “We cover many topics, not just real-estate information.”
Peva is originally from Connecticut, but has lived in Georgetown for over 30 years, currently in a cottage-style house with a white picket fence. Over the years, Georgetown has changed. The Georgetown Set, a powerful group of Cold War-era residents whose Sunday-night potluck dinners are said to have swayed U.S. policy, has long faded away. The community is still home to high-profile Washingtonians, including a Republican senator and several cabinet members. But it increasingly also attracts technology and finance executives, according to Peva. He now routinely signs nondisclosure agreements, ensuring privacy for wealthy clients. The shift has made him rethink his marketing approach.
“For years, a big part of our Georgetown business was made up of people who maintained a low profile,” he said. Real-estate agents were similarly low-key. Today, curb appeal is more important, he said, and agents are promoting themselves more. “As this change was underfoot, I was thinking that I needed to evolve myself too,” he said.
Though his own social-media use is mostly limited to following sailing accounts, he asked his daughter to help him post his listings online. Violet, now 26, started coming to D.C. once a month to film his reels. After an early video, on a condominium building called the Elliott, her sister Fern called her to report: “Daddy’s blowing up on Instagram,” Violet recalled. The reel got over 50,000 views. The next two each drew over 300,000. Peva’s most popular post ever, with over 838,000 views, was about the Grateful Dead playing in Georgetown. Sometimes, Peva interviews Georgetowners such as Quinn, the author, or Jamie Stachowski, the owner of a local butcher shop.
Peva, who majored in history in college, now spends up to two hours a day on research, usually in the morning while on his stationery bike. Online, he pores over old newspapers or the Library of Congress website, and he has a collection of articles and books—in and out of print—about Georgetown.
Companies often approach Peva for promotional posts, he said, but he turns them down, feeling that followers would lose interest in constant commercials. One exception is a recent paid post on Mount Vernon, the former home of George Washington. Peva wanted to share its history, he said, and didn’t want to lose the opportunity to another Instagrammer.
Anthony Arend, a professor at Georgetown University, has lived in his current home for 19 years without any plans to sell or buy real estate. But he follows Peva and often likes his posts.
“He is very charismatic, he is energetic, and he obviously knows a lot about the community,” said Arend, who has referred house-hunting friends to Peva.
One of Peva’s biggest deals—the $10.5 million sale of a 19th-century Italianate mansion—came after he made two 2024 reels featuring the property. In March, he sold the longtime O Street home of Tim and Jane Matz for $5.8 million after featuring it on his Instagram. Peva had showed them the home 25 years earlier, with Violet in a baby carrier on his back.
Last year, Kate Watts, 49, a digital consultant, called Peva to sell her late father’s three-bedroom house on Q Street; her husband had seen Peva on Instagram. In an October reel, Peva praised the architecture of the house, designed by modernist Hugh Newell Jacobsen. Halfway through, he mentioned an open house the next day, ending with an upbeat: “Did I also mention this house is for sale? $3.75 million!” The reel got 27,000 views, the open house was packed, and the buyers made an offer at the list price on the same day.
