Do you hate me yet? Don't. Because the aforementioned titles all belong to one individual who is now residing in my home and who goes by the name "Mom" or "Grandma Ghee."
My mom"officially" moved in on Friday. I didn't sleep at all on Thursday night.
Having your mother move in with you is a huge lesson in humility. I have been a bundle of nerves about the impending move for several weeks. And Ben, of course, has been beside himself with complete excitement. What could be better to a 5-year-old than having his beloved grandma with him all the time?
I have forgotten how noisy my mother can be in the kitchen. I have forgotten how much time it takes her in the morning to perform all the ritualistic things that she has to do before she can leave the house. I will probably forget what a quiet house actually sounds like.
There is an upside, though. Here's what was accomplished, not by me, but by my mother, in the space of just two days:
Laundry: Completely folded. Ben's clothes put away.
Dog poop scooped.
Outside gardens watered. Some weeds pulled.
Ben entertained for an hour while I worked.
Kitchen cleaned after challenging afternoon/evening with Ben and a fever
Stamps provided for outgoing bills.
I might start getting used to, and maybe even liking this new arrangement. Of course there is the small matter of her not allowing any overnight male visitors but by the way my dating life is going, this shouldn't be an issue at all.
So my take away lesson from all the anxiety of her move is this: there might be a stigma attached to having your mother live with you but there's certainly nothing to be ashamed of when the help is so plentiful. I'm cautiously optimistic.