No More People!

There’s no doubt it’s been a tough couple of years. Covid killed millions of people worldwide. Not content with that, it also took millions of jobs away from the economy too. Any government help that was available to cover the rent or face increasing prices has run out, leaving people with little hope. Little hope and even fewer options. For some, the only option is to move back home with good old Mom and Dad.

I got the email Monday. My middle son was having difficulty. He had managed to keep his head above water quite well. Until he decided to move and found himself the victim of an unscrupulous landlord. Out of money and out of luck, he had no choice. He had to do the unthinkable. He had to come back home at almost 29 years old.

“Of course,” I said without hesitation. I mean, who wouldn’t open their home to their own child? I was excited. I hadn't seen him in person for over 7 years as he was living halfway across the country.

But mixed with that excitement are a whole host of other emotions, trepidation, fear, uncertainty, confusion and more than a bit of territorial selfishness. The push and pull between wanting to protect and shelter my baby boy and continuing my blissful, empty-nester existence is real, and it goes something like this:

1. I’m So Excited to Have My Baby Back/Who the Hell is This Guy?:

The second I knew my son was coming home, I found myself flooded with emotions and memories of the adorable little boy he was. Just look at him on his second birthday, chubby little cheeks, thick golden curls! After all these years, he was back, back for Mommy to love and guide and care for.

But he wasn’t. What I got was a grown man, 6 foot 4, with a beard and everything. Now, let’s be honest, I knew on some level that he wasn’t a baby anymore. He wasn’t a baby when he moved out; he was 21. But the mind and the heart aren’t always on the same page.

My fussy, protective ways don’t work for a grown man. Apparently, he doesn’t need me to make his coffee and wash his clothes. Apparently, he doesn’t need me to tell him to be careful downtown or to brush his teeth.

All he needs is a room, a bed and a warm place to stay and regroup. I’m not very good at this yet.

2. My Home is Your Home/Don’t Touch My Stuff!:

Of course, I want him to be comfortable in my home. Of course, I want him to treat my place as his place for as long as he’s here. That being said, I would be lying if I said I was without concern or anxiety.

I bristle just a little bit every time I see he’s moved a chair out of its proper place. I feel the butterflies of nervousness every time I see he’s left a glass on the coffee table. Even worse, he sits in my spot on the couch. My spot!

3. This Won’t Be So Bad/Sh*t, I Have to Wear Pants!:

It’s only one extra person; how disruptive could he be? And, it’s not as if he’s a stranger. I’ve lived with him before, for decades. In fact, in some ways, it’s nice to have him back.

However, my husband and I have gotten very comfortable these past 7 years on our own. We like being able to do as we please. Too hot for a shirt? No problem, I’ll take it off. Need to pee in the middle of the night? No biggie, I run in there naked. Well, there’ll be no more of that! No, ma’am, it’s back to the days of fully dressed modesty at all times. Great, just freakin’ great!

4. Stay as Long as You Like/You’re on the Clock, Buddy!:

As a mother, my instinct is to want to shelter my offspring for as long as they need it. This situation is no exception. I’ll give him a soft place to fall for as long as he needs.

Yet I started looking at job and apartment listings that might suit him the minute he asked to come home. My husband and I discussed timelines. The bottom line is, we want him to feel comfortable, just not so comfortable that he never leaves. I love having him here. I also really love my spot on the couch and not wearing pants.

It’s great having your adult child back home. But it’s not all peaches and cream. I’m doing the best I can. It’s weird for both of us. The truth is, he’s as set in his ways as I am. I’m so happy to see him and to hang out with him again, but I’ll also gladly help him pack when it’s time to hit the bricks. He can always come back for a visit, as long as he calls first.

Originally posted on Medium