My godson Adam is home for the summer after being away at college on the East Coast and living in his own apartment for a year. He has been back a few weeks and is already complaining.
“Living with my parents again is making me crazy,” he groans.
Adam is almost 19. Claustrophobia is setting in even though he lives in another part of the house with a private entrance. He can come and go as he pleases, but he still wishes he could be alone–or with his “homies,” as he calls his pals. He wants to rent a warehouse loft and hopes to talk some friends into joining him.
“Don’t do it,” I tell him. “You’ll break your mother’s heart.”
Adam’s mother is my best friend. I can tell she’s suffering a hollow ache even though she hasn’t said a word to me or anyone else. I decided to speak to Adam, but practiced on my kids first.
“Would you move out on me when you come home from college for the summer?” I asked my children at supper.
“I’d move in with my girlfriend,” teased my son, Teddy.
“I wouldn’t come back for the summer,” Nathalie said shrewdly.
I looked at Gabby, my youngest. “I’d live with you, Mommy,” she says in her high sweet voice. “It’s my obligation.”
So, after all these years, carrying on with my children has actually forged filial bonds. I was raised by a mother who felt it was unseemly to express love, approval, support and pride. She felt these emotions strongly, yet she kept them to herself.
I treat my kids in the opposite manner. I tell them constantly how I feel–and am not above weeping and guilt-tripping to get my way.
In a way, I’m continuing a time-honored tradition that mothers have always practiced: reminding their children what they go through for them.
How else will the children know? You’ve got to tell them. Many a child has been reminded ad nauseam of the sacrifices mother made, starting from the nine-month gestation period.
Adam came over to take a walk with me the other day. “I’ve decided not to move out,” he announced. He couldn’t afford the $2,000 deposit, first and last month’s rent. Living at home didn’t look so bad after all. He’d be saving a lot of money. His parents would be away for part of the summer.
“Besides, this is probably going to be the last time I’ll ever live at home again,” he pointed out, almost nostalgically.
