Australia is facing a double whammy: sons and daughters continue living in the parental home for much longer than they used to.
At the other end, Australians are living longer - and that means a ballooning group of carers in the middle: "the sandwich generation" squeezed between caring for young and old.
At the start of the century, well under half of men aged under 30 were still living at their parents' homes. Twenty years later, it was well over half.
For women, about a third of under 30 were still at home in 2001. Twenty-five years later, it was nearly half, according to Canstar which analyses the insurance industry.
And we are living longer. At the start of the century, the average Australian could expect to reach 79 years of age. Now, it's into their 80s, longer for women (85) and less for men (81).
The two factors are squeezing the people in the middle generation, nearly all of them women. And as life-expectancy continues to rise and the numbers of old people increase, the burden on the middle "sandwiched" generation will get heavier.
"Women make up 91 per cent of sandwich carers, and 40 per cent of those women also have paid jobs. As people live longer, there are those who are caring for their ageing parents while being on the cusp of retiring themselves, or at least planning their retirement," according to National Seniors Australia.
The Apia insurance company estimated that there were about "1.5 million Australians in their 40s and 50s who are juggling the competing responsibilities of their own children, partner, work and retired parents.
"And with people living longer and having kids later, this number is likely to grow. An ageing population means we can no longer assume our own kids will have flown the nest before our parents also need some looking after."
These put-upon carers are called the "sandwich generation" because they are squeezed between caring for young and old, often while holding down a job.
People like Canberran Belle Hogg. She has an 11-year-old daughter at home and an aged mother who lived at home until recently and who now lives in a nearby care home. Belle is a classic member of what has come to be known as the "sandwich generation", in her case, sandwiched between a daughter and a mother both of whom she has to support.
"I'm having to currently navigate two systems. I've got my daughter starting high school, so that's one system where I'm navigating the education system. And then trying to find my way through that complex system of aged care," she said.
She feels like she's feeling in the dark, helped by social media to identify a good school, for example, but floundering in the morass of prices and options for aged care.
"I want someone to say to me, 'You need to do this thing and this thing'. When I'm functioning normally, that's fine, I can work it out. But when you're in a bit of a tizz, like when you've just found out your mum's got dementia. Your brain is not working the way it would normally work."
"I thought this is just me being a daughter and being a mum. And I suppose it's a little bit crazy because I'm working at the same time."
People, mostly women, caring for their parents and their adult children are lost to the economy, according to Michelle O'Shea of the University of Western Sydney who is researching the "sandwich generation".
She knew of a case of a scientist working in a shop because the shop gave her the convenient hours to juggle her roles.
"I don't understand why there's not a greater push to require organisations to be more amenable to the needs of carers," Dr O'Shea said. "That would be a win for the economy, the carers and the people they care for."
It's hard to juggle a household with three generations - but there is one big benefit: the young learn from the old.
Eleven-year-old Ava said she would sleep alongside her gran. As the grandmother's dementia developed, the daughter's love grew (when she talks about it, her eyes moisten).
"I don't think I knew what dementia was really so I didn't really get why she didn't remember my name," the child said.
"So it was a bit sad but I still loved her lots and some nights I'd sleep with her, spending time with her, really just being with her. She used to get up throughout the night, so I got her back in bed."
And grandmothers spoil grandchildren in ways that mothers might not.
"She'd get me toys all the time, that was fun.
"Older people, they compliment you all the time and they know what everything means because they've been in your shoes before. They've been in primary school and high school before.
Ava is mature beyond her years, perhaps because of her close contact with her grandmother before and since the move to the care home.
"She knows my face but when I ask, 'what's my name', she just says, 'Oh you're a beautiful girl'.
"I get that she doesn't remember my name, and that's fine. And I like that she calls me a beautiful girl."
Ava's mother, Belle, has seen the change - the growing maturity - in her daughter as the daughter has stayed close to the grandmother as dementia developed until she is now in a special section of the care home.
"Ava is such a different person, I think, for having that experience and actually now going to the memory unit.
"She is able to see that everybody has different sort of quirks, and some people have disabilities and some people act certain ways when they have things like dementia."
"She's had to learn about patience. She's had to learn about endurance - and not always being number one."
In a house with three generations, it's hard for anyone to be number one.
Chrissy, the grandmother, went to live at the house in Greenway when she was in her late 60s. She was sprightly, good at table tennis but she still had to have her daily life organised by her working daughter.
"Ava gets dropped at school," Belle said. "Before I go to work, I'd have to get up early, get mum showered, pack her lunch, put it in the fridge, write instructions on the bench, very simple instructions,. I would get to work and I would ring her and I would say, 'OK, it's time to go and put the thing in the microwave'."
Chrissy now lives in a care home and her daughter visits frequently. They do FaceTime even with Chrissy's dementia.
"Each day, I would ring from work, and then I found the phone calls were just getting harder and harder. What's a fridge.
"There were lots of things that I didn't realise or understand, Toileting, showering, all of those things, and it really was becoming full-time and it was sort of a decision of, do I just quit my job and do this?
"I don't think I can. I don't think I'll be able to survive financially. We would have to give the house up, everything."
