My son has brought a girl into our flat, and I havent the faintest idea how to ask her to leave.
These sorts of confessions belong to the shadows, the kind of thing youd never air outside your own head. But frustration wells up inside me until I think Ill explode. I know Ill be judged, but I suspect there are mothers out there whove watched their children suddenly turn into adults and will understand how I feel.
You bring a child into the world and pour your whole life into raising him. You split up with his father because you cant bear it anymore, and the two of you go everywhere together, doing your best so your fatherless child never feels like hes missing anything. You work two jobs, spend your evenings at the cooker as if it were a third shift, buy every new mobile he wants, pay for school, and then this:
Mum, Sophie is moving in with us.
With who? In our tiny 44-square-metre flat? Shes going to sleep in your room? Eat our food? Add her own laundry to the pile? Are we running a commune now, or are there two housekeepers in this flat?
He was so elated when he broke the news, expecting me to grin, hug him, perhaps rush to make space in the wardrobe for Sophies things.
Shes a lovely girl, and thats not the problem. I just dont want anyone else living with us. Theyre adults? Then let them get a mortgage, or find a place to rent! Whats all this saving money so they dont waste it on rent? Dont my nerves have any value?
Thats exactly how I felt. Still, I let Sophie come in. After all, my son has a right to this flat, too. He sees it as home, so why shouldnt he bring her? Thats a lie, but I promised to tell the truth. My friends scolded me, saying, Dont you care about your sons happiness? What sort of mum are you?
Now I dread coming home. Everything irritates me from the minute I step insidethe shoes crowding the hallway, the cooker smeared with the aftermath of whatever Sophies made herself for tea. Never mind that shes blown half the groceries I just bought. I watch every penny I spend. What happens when you go to make dinner and suddenly, youre out of flour? Not to mention forever queuing to use the bathroom!
Ill admit it: I want Sophie out of my flat. Im not after another housekeeper.
Then the thought struck mewhat if I brought a man home? Why did I spend so many years focusing on my son, hiding every sign that Ive a life of my own? He technically has his own space, but why not see how he likes it if I brought someone home, suitcases and all, and the four of us shared our tiny 44-square-metre home?
This is the sort of letter you dont often read. For me, as a mother to a young son, its hard to imagine being in the writers shoes, and Im keen to hear what readers think.
What about you, dear readers? Have you ever faced such a situation with your grown-up children? Did you get on with the sons- or daughters-in-law? Is a mother entitled to kick Sophie out of the flat?
