More Battling on the Home Front

I have started to write several different posts since the last one. They are all drafts. I cannot get through any of them. For one simple reason. I am really ticked off and I can't really concentrate on anything else.

I haven't wanted to write about it because to many, I imagine that I will seem like a registered weirdo. At the very least, many will shake their heads and say that I am not being realistic - in this day and age, and all. The fact is I really am two different people. The woman the world gets, and the one my family gets. Oh, its so schizo (to quote a phrase).

To the world at large I am fairly sophisticated and understanding. At home? Not so much. At least not the understanding part. I can forgive multitudes from the world at large - my family, I expect much more of.

There is this show called "Gilmore Girls". On it, the fabulous Kelly Bishop plays the role of Emily, the main character's mother. She is a study in hardcore, matriarchal defeat. She is no-nonsense, unyielding, unemotional. The words "I love you" are spoken more as a matter of fact, than for reasons of warm and fuzzy. (Bob was "Mr. Warm and Fuzzy", to the extreme. I provided the balance. I was hardcore. To the extreme.) And though you really have to watch 100 episodes to see it, Emily loves her daughter more than her daughter will ever know. No one likes the character. My girls laugh at her and roll their eyes at her and talk about how awful she is. They don't think I know that they compare me to her. I love her. At home, I am her. So with that background, here we go...

It has been my experience for the past many, many years, that my children, and I do not see eye to eye on a lot of things. So it should not be surprising to me that now, as the older girls are coming into adulthood, things have not changed. In fact, while I don't have to endure the smart-ass, back talk, sneaking out and other, similar tortures of high-school, now what I have to listen to, ad nauseum, is: "I am an adult. You may no longer tell me how to live my life". Fair enough. Except that they are still living at home. Not at all because they want to be. But the economy being what it is, they are caught a bit over a barrel.

Please note as well, that I am not gloating in this experience. I truly believe that the best thing that could possibly happen to them would be for them to move out. I would get a break from the constant tension and they would get a good dose of "grow-up". (Gee, I don't have the money to go to the 30th concert this summer - I have to pay rent tomorrow...)

Recently, I blogged about trying to figure out how to be a mom to semi-adults. I received some very well thought out, reasonable comments. Comments that were wise, encouraging made a lot of sense - but, but, BUT...

Let me give a hypothetical situation here. Let's say that you appreciate and, in fact, need, a house that is clean, neat, and orderly. You have children who have challenged you in this area since they could walk. You endured dirty bedrooms, bathrooms and kitchens all throughout high-school. You yelled and screamed to no avail because, they, by nature, do not have the same issues with keeping things picked up as you do. Your droning was as irritating to them as their messiness was to you. But they were yours and as such, you spent 18 years sucking it up and taking it!

Then, as if by miracle, they graduated and went off to college where they lived as they pleased. They stepped over all their clothes on the floor and their beds were never made. Their bathrooms may have, for all you knew, been breeding grounds for all sorts of bacteria and disease, but did you care? NOT IN THE LEAST! Because they were on their own and there, in "on-your-own-land" they are free to live however they please. And they are happy as well. Mom is not breathing down their necks. Everyone getting along a little better.

But then, they come home. And they bring their messy habits with them. And your lovely house is breeding anxiety for you again. You tell them to clean their rooms and bathrooms. They say: "You cannot tell me what to do anymore. I am an adult. I can do as I please."

Now I know that everyone reading this is thinking : "Oh no. If they are going to live at home, they have to clean up after themselves or they can figure out how to live somewhere else. They are being rude, spoiled, and unfair."

So why, when it comes to values and behaviors should it be different?

Now I have to begin by saying that my girls are great. They are all in school, working toward their goals and trying to lay foundation for their lives. They are, for the most part, responsible. They are good, kind, contributing young women and I am, for the very most part, very proud of them. I am grateful for who they are.

However...

The last time I checked 19 and 20 were not 21 - ergo, I do not have to be understanding about drinking. I know it goes on, especially in college and dorms and sorority houses, but that does not mean I have to look the other way in my house. Yet they, with their new "legal adult" status, truly believe there is nothing wrong with drinking at a party and have actually said those exact words to me. After illegally acquiring beer and God knows what else, and taking it to the beach after hours, and drinking it, illegally, at a birthday party, I listen to my eldest say to me "We didn't do anything wrong." Is that the most ridiculous statement you have ever heard or am I just going insane? I hasten to add, there were non-drinkers at the party responsible for getting everyone home safely - my daughters are very responsible about that. But then, what do you say when they break a 2:00 a.m. curfew because they won't drive after having been drinking? Of course the most important thing is to never get behind the wheel after they have been drinking and you want to acknowledge and are grateful for the responsibility they have shown in staying put. But they have broken curfew. And they have been drinking. What about that? (And yes, they have a curfew because nothing good happens after midnight - I don't care how old you are - and I'm not going to lay in bed wondering if they are home or not - I don't care how old they are.)

And while she has been in a nearly two-year, serious relationship with a very nice guy, it is still NOT okay with me that my daughter stay the night at his house if she feels like it. "What is the big deal", she asks me, as if she has never met me before. "Mom, I'm 20 years old! Its okay with his parents" - hello, hello, HELLO?????????

Now when I was 20, I smoked, drank sometimes, had tried pot more than once, stayed out too late, and had made some unfortunate choices with boyfriends. So there it is. I did stupid things. But my mother, God rest her lovely soul, became a hippie when I was 15 years old and she adopted all the misguided attitudes that the 1970's puked out. She was somewhat left of far left. She embraced the idea that young people should feel free to express themselves so long as no one got hurt. (Of course we didn't realize why we felt hurt until thousands of dollars in therapy helped sort all the mess of the 70's out for us, 25 years later.) By the time I was 16, I didn't really have any rules to follow. And my mom was beloved by all our friends. She lived in that "well-they-are-going-to-do-it-anyway-so-I'd-rather-they-did-it-at-home" crazy house. She was cool. But she was also wrong. Period.

By the time I became a mom, I had a whole different point of view going on. We had a strong faith and we raised our kids in that faith. It was all there for them to look at and take on - or not, if that was their choice. But there were no surprises. It was all there, laid out and very understandable. Smith house had two columns: Okay and Not Okay. Okay?

So I'm not hiding anything. Yes, I did it all when I was your age darlings. And your point is?

Still, we're at odds. And there is some animosity happening. And I have heard the words: "This reminds me of high school". And if you had been here during high school you would know what an angry thing that is to say. And I hate it. Because it hurts my feelings. I know they are trapped. I know that if they could afford to move out, they would. They don't want to answer to me anymore. And I get it. I don't blame them. But they are here. So it is really their turn to suck it up and take it. Because they may be legal adults now but this is my damned house.

And I love them more than they will ever know.