Recently, my mum’s taken to living alone. She split up with Dad, and after my brother had stayed with her for a bit, he went off to move in with his girlfriend. So now Mum rings me up, telling me how huge and echoey the house feels, how quiet it is, and how the shadows look a bit suspect after dark. She says she gets awfully lonesome. I honestly felt a bit sorry for her, so I tried suggesting she move in with her sisterAuntie Margaret. Shes got a house to herself as well. But Mum wasnt at all keen. She insists that once youre past a *certain age*, peoples personalities grate, apparently.
Once my brother moved out, Mum started popping over to ours with alarming frequency. Sometimes at the weekend, sometimes bang in the middle of the working weeklike a surprise pop quiz for adults. We always welcomed herput the kettle on, made her a cuppa, dragged out the biscuits and so on. And whenever we were off to see the in-laws or heading to the cottage for the weekend, we brought her along. We genuinely did everything to make sure she didnt feel abandoned.
But then, well, things took a turn after my husband and I had our son. Under the noble banner of helping with her grandson, Mum petitioned to stay with us. Right after I came back from hospital as it happens. She made a very compelling case, I cant lie. We thought it over and agreed. And to be fair, she truly did pitch in: nappy duty, bottle washing, the lot. Only problem is, she decided our place was clearly a five-star hotel and just… never left. Its been two months now, and theres still no sign shes even hinted at packing a bag. If anything, shes dropped hints about letting out her own placewaste of a perfectly good London flat, she says.
Its not that were not grateful. She helps us out loads. But weve started feeling a touch smothered by the relentless motherly presence. My mums retired, so shes home all the time, busying herself pottering about. She keeps improving our kitchen layout. Every time I go for the tea bags, theyre somewhere else, like shes playing hide-and-seek with my caffeine supply.
My husband and I, we try to carve out personal space, but its tricky in a two-bed flat. Frankly, we never anticipated living out the sandwich generation cliché so soon. Cant even roam about in our underpants! Plus, theres the ever-helpful advicehow were supposed to spend our money, and how my husband really ought to be more hands-on. If he so much as breathes the wrong way, shes on him.
Ive tried having the grown-up chat with herthe whole young families need their own space, Mum speech. Shes not buying it. As far as shes concerned, theres nothing more natural than adults living with their mum. Youll never cope on your own with that little one! she says, like Im liable to misplace the baby among the laundry.
Honestly, Ive got no idea how to make her see it: shes crossing the line from helpful into unwelcome house guest. It tugs at meshes lonely, shes in her golden years and all that.
But really, its not anyones doing but her own that she and Dad split. Maybe its time she thought about jumping on one of those dating apps for the over-60s. There are plenty of eligible chaps out there whod appreciate a woman who alphabetises their spice rack!
