Well this is the third time in my adult life that I have ended up living back home with my mum. The first time I was in my early 20s, I had been abandoned by my older boyfriend. I had stayed on in the bedsit we had been renting until the end of our contract.
The second time was just prior to having my first son. I had been living in a bedsit in Tunbridge Wells, I didn’t know whether my baby’s father would stand by me, it was winter and I went to stay with my mum until after the birth, we stayed for 4 months before finding our own place.
Now 30 years later here I am again. It feels very strange to be in my mid fifties, living with my mum. We are looking after each other. I have to tr hard not to interfere and do things for her that she would normally do for herself. I have however emptied the vacuum cleaner for her and carry the laundry basket up or downstairs for her. I do know that I am scheduled to get into the cupboard under the stairs to read the gas and electricity meters for her.
I’m not sure how I feel about having my meals made for me, it is good to have someone else doing the cooking but odd not doing the meal planning.
I am used to spending the time I am with my mum just talking for hours on end, sitting quietly reading or snoozing in between conversations is something I am having to get accustomed to.
We are planning to get a new bird feeder, one that will be positioned where we can both see it. I did my first laundry wash today, it has been years since I last dried my clothes on the radiators.
Here’s to my new life.