At 38 years old, I’m currently living with my parents. Notice I didn’t say “still living,” because that implies something strange. Nope, I’m back home after a long time away, where life took some unexpected turns—a child, a couple of divorces, and, oh surprise, Mom and Dad, I’ve brought along two lovely daughters. Millennials, take note: I’ve officially out-hipstered you by returning home when they most missed me—and with grandkids in tow!
After being independent for over two decades, there are some perks to moving back in with my parents. For starters, I won’t be paying rent since the house was paid off in 1975. They might not have HBO, and they think “wireless” refers to a bra, but they do subscribe to fantastic cooking magazines. The aromas of their elaborate culinary creations almost mask the scent of my cat’s litter box.
Every morning, I wake up to an empty dishwasher—thanks to my mom’s 3 a.m. alarm—and a fresh pot of coffee. Their basement is a treasure trove filled with everything you could possibly need: a popcorn popper, multiple Easter baskets, a food dehydrator, even a prom dress! I can shop their basement for anything, and my mom knows precisely where everything is located. “Need a Spanish-American War uniform for a school project?” she asks. “It’s in the laundry room, right above the 8-track player, labeled ‘Misc War Stuff.’”
A Shift in Perspective
As a teenager, I thought my parents were totally uncool. Yet, after moving away and living 2,000 miles from home, marrying and divorcing twice, having a child with cystic fibrosis, and struggling to afford her medications, my perspective changed. I realized that I couldn’t navigate this life alone. Returning home with my daughter was a significant adjustment; however, it has also been heartwarming.
My childhood bed, shared with my daughter, a cat, and two guinea pigs (who do have a cage, I promise), is not how I envisioned life as I approached 40. I miss my cast iron skillet, French press, and even my quirky coffee mugs. I miss having my own space, friends over, and the independence of adulthood.
Finding Community in Chaos
It hasn’t been easy for my parents either. After raising their kids, they finally thought they could enjoy their home again, only to find it filled with stuffed animals, Legos, and a massive trampoline ruining the grass. We are a whirlwind of chaos, laughter, and noise. Yet, the shared dinners, cleaning, and errands create a sense of community that I’ve never experienced as a single parent.
This arrangement is temporary. I will find my footing again, but for now, I am grateful to be living with two people who love my daughter as much as I do and who help with the little things, like unloading the dishwasher. It’s the ideal setup for this moment in our lives.
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Conclusion
In summary, moving back in with my parents at 38 has its ups and downs, but it offers a supportive environment for my daughter, who is loved deeply by her grandparents. While I navigate this transitional phase, I appreciate the chaos and camaraderie that come with living in a multi-generational household.