Are They My Kids Or Are They My Grown-Ups?

I am in a state of mom madness. I have a daughter, 10 (in training to turn into a teenager and drag me through hell - for the the fourth time!), twin 19-year-olds and one 20-year-old. All are currently living at home. Amanda, my oldest, is here for one semester to take a class that is not currently offered at SJSU and Christine and Jennifer are in their second year of community college before transferring to university. And then there is Grace, going in to 5th grade. So basically - full house.

So here is my mom mantra: "I am not your friend, I am your mother".

Let me back up a bit and give you an historical perspective on that statement as it pertains to how I was perceived in my home. To say I was not popular with my girls (or some of their friends) would be a gross understatement. First of all, I believed it, I meant it and they knew it. Secondly, in holding my ground, I guaranteed myself at least 4 years of being absolutely hated and despised. In case you're wondering, this was not fun. (Did you hear that girls? I did not have fun "ruining" your lives!) And I think it could probably be scientifically proven that it is during this 4 year hate period that women of similar mindset start to look like old hags with gray hair, wrinkles, and saggy butts. Its exactly the same thing that happens between the first and last day of any U.S. president. Look at the pictures. Same 4 years.

On the other hand, women who come out of this period looking great have either had surgery or, have shitty kids. Because they chose to be "a friend". Obviously I am over-generalizing here. There are exceptions but needless to say, my daughters would have rather had a "friend". And had I caved, I would look fabulous. Have you ever noticed how Lindsay Lohen, Brittany Spears, Paris Hilton, and the Kardashian girls all claimed, as teens: "my mom is my best friend".? Sexy, youthful moms. I rest my case.

Amanda used to routinely tell me with snarl and contempt in her voice (as well as in every fiber in her body), that her other friends had "nice" moms who they could tell "anything" to. To that, all I could say was that my girls didn't need to tell me "anything". Because I already knew "everything". And I wasn't about to be "understanding" about any of it. I wasn't going to talk it over, over a latte at Starbucks. I was not going to make it easy for them to do what I knew they shouldn't be doing - even though I knew everyone else was doing it. Even if I had done it at their age. Especially if I had done it at their age. So if they were going to defy me anyway, they were going to have to work hard at doing it because it was going to require stealth planning and strategy to get away with it. Sometimes they did. But often, they didn't. Hence, hate.

Okay, so we really are beyond that now. They've grown up and become adults. Well, semi-adults. At least in my mind. Which is where mom madness comes in. While I am in full mom mode for my 10 year old, I am supposed to be - what? - to my older girls? They are legal adults now, but still unexperienced young people. They want to make their own lives. While still living at home. Uh - I think not.

I mean, I still have rules, right? And when they are living under my roof, they abide, right? Or they can get their own place, right? Right??

Except, it looks an awful like when they were in high school. And as much as I feel I am entitled to set the rules in my own home, I kind of feel like maybe their freedoms should extend a little beyond a later curfew. But I don't seem to be able to let go of them as my children and embrace them as adults. At least not while they still leave messes all over the house.

The truth is I do not know how to be a mom to semi-adult. I don't know how to be okay with choices they may make that I do not like. I do not know where to draw the line. I do not know how to try to "discipline" them for breaking the rules - without feeling like an ass. And I think there hasn't been enough time between the time they hated me and now for them to warm to being friends. And frankly, I'm not sure I can be their friend until they are 52 with college aged daughters of their own.

So I'm left out here in "mom limbo". But I've got to figure it out or I am going to look like absolute hell by the time they graduate college.