It's happening. My mother is moving here. To Colorado. Into our home (possibly). I was really okay with it at first, but the more I think about living under the same roof with her, the more afraid I get. I haven't lived with my mother since I was nineteen years old; eleven years ago might as well be another century. It feels that long ago.
But, she needs help. She's depleted her savings, is stuck in temps jobs and needs a change of scenery. She moved back to the dirty south and it's still dirty and southern. I told her not to move there. I told her she would hate it there and that ignorant people don't change. They procreate and teach their children how to hate. So, she's coming here. And, she wants me to find a "cheap" city nearby in which she can live. A cheap city in Colorado is so last decade, which means our house will be her house, too.
I've prepared the girls. I've asked Lizzie how she feels about bunking with her sister and letting Grandma have her room. She's okay with it, as long as it doesn't go on for too long. I completely understand. Part of the reason we added a fourth bedroom was to give Lizzie a private space away from her sister; the other was to boost our home value. Still, I'm proud of her for agreeing to give up her room, even for a limited time.
Of course, there's no guarantee that my mother will even want Lizzie's room; she's in the basement and it's eleven stairs from there to the main level bathroom. Olie's room, with it's proximity to the back door and bathroom would be a better choice. But, Lizzie has the biggest closet in the house and my mom has a lot of clothes. I don't know. We'll work it out.
I'm anxious and excited about the possibility of her being here. On one hand, her help with the children will make law school infinitely easier. On the other hand, her constant presence could make our relationship very strained. Only time will tell.
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