I just moved back in with my parents, and have since regressed to acting and living like a fifteen year old (I’m nearly twenty eight). The unusual (for us anyway) circumstance of me being at home, has had an effect on our relationship. At times it’s as though the last ten years never happened. I am (slightly) less unreasonable than before. I can now get up before 10am without having a tantrum. I do the washing up, I cook a lot and can hold a civil conversation however, some things, will never change.
I here sentences come out my mouth that I thought I would never hear again, ‘can you leave me alone’, ‘I’m going out’, ‘where?’, ‘ why do you care??!!’. I’m a nice person, but being faced with questions from parents which I haven’t had to answer for at least two years does wear thin. At times I answer like this, ‘what time will you be back’, ‘dunno’, ‘text me when you leave’ a long pause, and massive inhiliation of breath- ‘But whhhyyyy, for Gods sake???!!!’. Most of the time I manage to remain calm, but inside I am swinging my arms and grunting that THIS IS SO UNFAIR. On the bright side however, I find I am sticking to my plans more, have not got drunk and made regrettable decisions as often as is usual. Oddly, moving back home has made me act more mature – although this may have more to do with the fact I’m broke.
There is stuff on the shelves, all the time. There are un-rotten vegetables in the veg drawers. Jars are all kept neatly on top shelf where they are supposed to be, cheese is not mouldy or crusty, and there is always milk for tea. No one has a designated ‘area’ of the fridge (ie the second shelf plus one item in the door), labelled their tomatoes, or left passive aggressive notes on an Activia yogurt.
I have put on a fair amount since moving home. I blame the full fridge for most of this. I find my mum is constantly pointing out when things need ‘eating up’ and sees me as the obvious one do the eating. The fear of waste is real. Home cooked meals are also hard to turn down, even if you’ve already been out for a fry up with your mates.
If the door is shut, this is not a signal that you want to be by yourself for a bit, (like most housemates would presume) it literally means nothing and usually is opened again, as if shut doors are a fire hazard.
When I first started hanging out at bus stops and going to yoof – club, I would get lifts with my mum, and ask her to pick me up from around the corner, just in case I was snogging someone, drunk, smoking, or all three. Nothing has changed. Even online dating is different. My parent’s WIFI has adult supervision so I can’t go on POF or Match until after nine and phone signal is so bad in the house, I can’t even go on tinder – this was a particularly depressing discovery.
Despite the odd inconvenience and occasional embarrassment of living at home, I am embracing it. It won’t last long (hopefully) and it is, in general, a very comfortable and amicable existence. I need to move out as soon as I can, but I’m going attempt to keep my inner Kevin at bay until then.