Permanent Tenant

I've been hinting about it for awhile now but it's official: my mother is coming to live with us. She will arrive in late April for a short visit, then return with her moving truck in early May, which means lots of changes are on the horizon. Lizzie's room will become mom's room and Lizzie will either (a) move into the newly-framed-soon-to-be-drywalled study or (b) share with her sister. Lizzie has said she definitely does not prefer option "b," so option "a" is probably what will come to pass.

The new study is adjacent to Lizzie's room, which means Lizzie and Grandma can make great memories but it also means I am on the hunt for double-duty furniture that performs like bedroom furniture, yet looks like - well - the type of furniture one would find in a study. Armoires and daybeds (not the icky metal kind, though). You know, those types of pieces. Antique stores and craigslist here I come!

Mom. Moving. In. It's a big step. I'm nervous. I think it will be hard on all of us for awhile because she has her way of doing things, we have our way of doing things, and our way and her way are radically different. Our ways are so different because all my life I have resisted morphing into my mother. She's negative and overbearing. I'm slightly more optimistic but still pretty controlling (we DO have that in common). She's a college drop-out who is dependant on others. I'm committed to attaining as much education as I need to become self-sufficient. She has little patience for my children. So do I, lately. I guess that's another thing we have in common.

I think getting used to our "family noises" will be the biggest obstacle for her. Three children in one household makes for a very LOUD and raucous household. Even I am guilty of needing time away from all the chaos but only because I am an only child who had a very quiet upbringing. I genuinely crave quiet time but I so seldom get it. So, I go running or for a walk or to the library. Now, with mom moving in, she and I can do those things together.

For now, I have low expectations. I only hope she will be happy here. Happy enough to stick around and not complain too much about the kids, or about us keeping our thermostat on 68 degrees, or about the snow, the cold, or her allergies. Scratch that part about expectations. I have really low expectations and a big ol' heaping pile of angst.