Although I have thought of blogging for quite sometime, this first posting isn't quite as easy as I thought it would be. I know that a there a lot of people who have found themselves with a parent living with them.
For some people this may be a great situation especially if the relationship with their parent had been good. There are some of us, like myself, where having a parent (my mother) move in just hasn't been the picture of bliss. Hopefully when others read this they will know that they aren't alone.
My story isn't totally different from others I am sure.
My father died very suddenly and had not left my mom financially secure enough to live on her own. Not to mention the fact that my mom has never lived on her own. Although I have 4 siblings, I made the choice to move my mom in with me. Really there was no other choice at the time. My mom and I never got along when I was growing up so I was very apprehensive about the move, but I couldn't let my father down. I always figured that my mom and I didn't get along great because I was so different from her. I have always been told that I am alot like my father. I was also adopted by my parents at birth as they weren't able to have children. But they were able to have 4 kids after me. Although I have never felt adopted, I sometimes wonder if that is the problem in the relationship between my mother and myself.
It has been six years since my father died and my mom is still living with me. Other than a couple of years with a brother she has been with us.
She still drives my nuts by telling me everything that she has done during the day that she thinks I should have done but didn't. I work 50 hrs a week. So I get home and I am told how she swept the floor, or folded my laundry. She still gets mad at my kids for things that really don't matter. She won't cook a meal for herself ever. But she is my mom and she took care of me and raised me, so in some ways is it now my turn.
