Happy birthday, Mom!

It’s my mom’s birthday today. I am actually writing this Thursday night so I can spend more time with her Friday. So, I thought I’d talk about — you guessed it — my mom!

As you may or may not already know, I live with my mom. Typical millennial, eh? The backstory: My dad passed away in June 2016, and for the first time in her life, my mom was living alone. It was rough on me and my siblings, not only losing Dad but knowing that Mom was alone in a house with just constant reminders of him. We were also worried about her being able to take care of the house, and how none of us were all that close to check in on her. At the time, I lived 6.5 hours away in Beaufort, S.C.

We’re laughing so hard in this one that it took a blurry photo.

So, one fortuitous night — Christmas Eve 2017 to be exact — we were talking, and I am still not sure how we got to the topic, but the conversation somehow hit on me moving in with her. It had already been something I was thinking about since 2016, and I thought about it more and more considering the situation I was in.

I was in a job that was stretching me thin and driving me insane (I think to sum it up, I’ll mention the 43 pages of instructions I had to leave for the person who replaced me). And my apartment complex had switched management and turned to crap. I wanted out, but the problem was that I didn’t have a job to go to. I was also making decent money, but the job was killing me.

So, we talked it out and decided that, yes, I would move in with her! I never really brought it up before because I didn’t want to seem like I was trying to mooch off her or take advantage or something. I really wanted to be able to help her and keep her company, and I wanted to move home.

I had to wait until April to move, as that was when my lease was up. It was a loooooooong three months. But it was nice to have it planned out and to be able to take my time. The move before that, I had three weeks to pack up a house, find an apartment and move. So, while it was a long wait, it was worth it.

So, on April 2, 2018, I moved back to my childhood home to live with my mom. I was terrified because I left my job with no job to go to. But I got super lucky, and a job opened up at my local paper just a few weeks after I got here. And I was working again six weeks after moving in. So, that was a relief. (Of course, I’m about to lose my job due to outsourcing, basically, so that’s fun. Sigh.)

We were both nervous that we would drive each other insane. And, while we have gotten on each other’s nerves here and there, for the most part, we have gotten along so well. I have the basement to myself, and I can control the heat and air in my room, since the central heat and air doesn’t exist in it — it was formerly a garage way back in the day. I know that if we’re annoying each other at all, I can just go downstairs and problem solved.

She does the cooking — which she enjoys; I don’t like cooking — and I clean up the kitchen on my days off. I do a bunch of little things around the house that she finds difficult because of her arthritis. I do a lot of yard work, pay for all the food, pay my own bills and clean up my own stuff. She is also supporting me as I try to find a new career.

And we keep each other company and make each other laugh every day. It’s been so wonderful to live here again, and I am even more relieved that neither of us are alone during this pandemic.

If anyone wants to wish her a happy birthday, I’ll pass it along. Until next time!

The Frazzled Daisy


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