Four years ago, I dropped my oldest child off at the dorms to start her first year of college. I admit that at the time I was a bit sad. My baby girl was growing up and taking the first steps to becoming an adult. I thought that it was only a matter of time before she left her mother and me for good.
That was just wishful thinking.
In June of this year, EM1 left school and moved back home. And not just for a visit. She lives in my house full time once again and there is no exit date in the foreseeable future.
I wouldn’t mind so much if things went back to where they were before EM1 went off to college, but unfortunately there have been some drastic changes over the past four years. Changes that might be improvements in her eyes, but they have not made living with her any easier.
Now that she is an adult (her words, not mine), she has developed certain habits and ways of taking care of herself that no longer fit the previous family dynamic. She behaves less like a daughter and more like a roommate.
To clarify: she behaves like a roommate that eats everything in the fridge, pays no rent, and makes a mess of the house without even attempting to clean up after herself. If she actually were just a roommate, I would have kicked her out of the house three months ago. But because she is family (although the DNA tests haven’t come back to confirm that yet) I am compelled to let her stay.
For now.
When EM1 was merely a child, I could ask her to do chores and she didn’t complain. She did not actually do the chores, but at least she ignored my requests silently. Now, when I ask her to pick up her stuff or help with cleaning the house, she tells me that the house is fine as it is, and she sees no reason to change it. If I want it cleaner, she says I should clean it because I’m the one with the problem.
For example, EM1 left half of a tissue on the counter recently.
Half. Who the hell uses half a Kleenex?
She had a cold and was constantly blowing her nose. Although we asked her to throw her mess away, my darling child declined the request. The half tissue (along with several other used tissues) got tossed in the garbage by her frustrated mother. EM1 immediately complained that she had set the half tissue aside to use later and we had wasted it.
Feeding her has become a problem as well. When she was little, EM1 ate whatever meals I fixed because that was the only thing available. Now, if she doesn’t like what’s on the plate in front of her, she will fix herself something else. Of course, she is still using stuff in the house that I paid for and probably had planned to use later. If she can’t find anything in the house she likes, she will go out and get something from a restaurant using the credit card that I pay for.
A few days ago, my wife made some scrambled eggs for us. EM1 asked if she could have some and my wife said, “Of course.” EM1 then proceeded to say, “But don’t use so much salt and pepper. You season it too much and I don’t like that.”
In a restaurant, that behavior might work. In a house where you don’t pay for rent or food, you keep your mouth shut unless you’re saying, “Thank you.”
Somebody did a lousy job raising that kid.
It must be nice to always get what you want and not worry about where the money comes from. If my dad wasn’t already dead, I would move back in with him and see if I could get away with the same crap that EM1 pulls on me.
I am getting a little tired of my “roommate” treating me like the hired help. I am running out of patience for the constant criticism and complaints.
If I fix stuffing or pasta, EM1 asks why we’re not having rice. If I bake a potato, she wants it mashed. If I open a window or a door to let in some air, she closes it and says she’s cold and that I’m letting bugs into the house. The counters are covered with dishes that seem to appear overnight, and the hallway is full of clothing and furniture that has somehow managed to escape from EM1’s room. It seems even inanimate objects are trying to get away from her.
Yesterday, I was watching a movie on television. I paused the movie to pull some laundry out of the dryer, fold it, and put it away. The process took about ten or fifteen minutes. When I returned to the living room, EM1 was on the couch holding the TV remote and watching a Korean boy band talk about the most interesting foods they ate while on a tour in Europe.
Apparently, the fact that the TV was on pause did not register with her that someone else just might have been watching before she sat down.
Again, as a daughter, I love her very much. As a roommate, she sucks.
Living with a twenty-two-year-old that has had four years of being on her own requires a significant adjustment period. I am learning that the hard way. We are butting heads over things that never occurred four years ago. My wife keeps telling me that I need to be patient and things will eventually smooth themselves out.
I hope so.
If not, the kid is going to find herself on the streets looking for a new place to live, and I don’t think her chances of finding an apartment will be very good.
Especially since I will probably be the only reference on her application.
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