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Three generations: Can you ever really go home?
Filed under: Activities: Babies, Development/Milestones: Babies
For those of us who are grown adults and have moved home with our parents, we know it is sometimes a delicate balance of retaining our sanity while attempting to blend back into our childhood homes. Whether we have lived out in the real world for one year or sixteen, during that time we have arranged the living room furniture the way we like, we have cooked the meals we enjoy and we get a new water glass for every drink we have during the day. On the flip side of those habits, it must be difficult for a parent to accept a grown child back into the fold. All those annoying habits that escalated to fights throughout the years return to the nest. The result can be a volatile living situation.
For the most part, my mother and I have found a fairly comfortable balance in our new home life. I understand that she is my mother and that although I am now thirty-six, I am still her baby. Sometimes this fact makes me nuts. When she reminds me for the twelfth time that there is a bag of trash on the front porch that desperately needs a home in the dumpster, I often take a deep breath and remind her that I heard her the first eleven times. In my childhood I would likely have stomped out, drug the trash to the dumpster while ripping the bag on the rocks and creating a general mess. Now I let her know I understand her intentions while informing her of mine.
I have a nasty habit of emptying the entire cabinet innards of every drinking glass throughout the day. I can never remember where I set down my water and rather than find it, I simply grab a new glass. My mother used to trudge after me, retrieving the glasses and shooting me mild daggers while doing so. Now when the cabinets get empty and my children have no drinking vessels, she tells them to find me and gather up the glasses.
I don't know if the saying about never being able to go home is absolutely true. Yes, it is hard. It is difficult to be an independent adult while living with my mother. I'm sure it is equally as hard for her to be a hands on grandmother at the age of 64; never really having tranquility it in her golden years. But for us, at least for right now, this is a good life and one I cherish every day.
For the most part, my mother and I have found a fairly comfortable balance in our new home life. I understand that she is my mother and that although I am now thirty-six, I am still her baby. Sometimes this fact makes me nuts. When she reminds me for the twelfth time that there is a bag of trash on the front porch that desperately needs a home in the dumpster, I often take a deep breath and remind her that I heard her the first eleven times. In my childhood I would likely have stomped out, drug the trash to the dumpster while ripping the bag on the rocks and creating a general mess. Now I let her know I understand her intentions while informing her of mine.
I have a nasty habit of emptying the entire cabinet innards of every drinking glass throughout the day. I can never remember where I set down my water and rather than find it, I simply grab a new glass. My mother used to trudge after me, retrieving the glasses and shooting me mild daggers while doing so. Now when the cabinets get empty and my children have no drinking vessels, she tells them to find me and gather up the glasses.
I don't know if the saying about never being able to go home is absolutely true. Yes, it is hard. It is difficult to be an independent adult while living with my mother. I'm sure it is equally as hard for her to be a hands on grandmother at the age of 64; never really having tranquility it in her golden years. But for us, at least for right now, this is a good life and one I cherish every day.
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ReaderComments (Page 1 of 1)
4-18-2007 @ 11:22AM
Ann Adams said...So, is the trash still sitting on the front porch or did the 12th reminder do the job?
Just kidding. I lived in a multi-generations household under quite recently and know what a challenge it can be.
Reply