Well, I’m 46 and have lived on my own since I was 17. Minus 4 years of married life. Now that I’m divorced I’m buying my first house and one of the things I’m insisting on is a first floor bedroom so that I can take care of my mom, who is still fiercely independant but hey, she’s past 70 years old. She’s OK with this idea.
I assure you that I’m planning on doing all the cleaning, bills and cooking (used to be a chef, I have been a better cook than my mom for4 years ).
We get along great and I think we’d both enjoy the company.
However, I do want to get married again and I do wonder sometimes what a woman would think of a guy my age taking care of his mom. My own thought is that if she can’t abide that, then she wouldn’t be someone I’d want to marry.
As my mom used to say, “First you build-a da nest, then you find-a da bird.” I think there’s a lot of truth in what you said, featherlou, whether anyone wants to scream sexist 50s crap or not.
And I don’t believe it’s all on the side of the greedy little wimmins, either. If my husband has a less than stellar month financially (he’s on commission), he’s pretty bothered by it (even though we’re well-padded with savings against such times). He considers it a major part of his job to provide for our household. I know he’s not the only man to feel this way.
Everyone’s got their own stories, plans and families so I’m not going to judge the other posters here. Speaking for myself, however, I certainly felt like a loser when I went back home for a year after college at 22-23. It didn’t exactly do wonders for my social life, either.
Based on the definitions posted so far, I was certainly sponging. I held down part-time jobs and took night classes, but my only expenses were tuition and gas/insurance for my car. My parents paid the household bills, bought groceries, cooked, etc. They were ok with the arrangement only on the grounds that I had an actual plan that involved supporting myself in the near future, which I did. From 23 onward, I’ve lived on my own (and with the family I’ve started).
Post Navy (age 22) I moved back home for almost 2 years while going back to college and working full time. My parent’s house was 2 miles from the college and by living at home. I was saving up to go full time to college. While living at home, I did most of the maintenance on the house, cut the lawn, washed the dishes and occasionally cook. I was only paying $25 and then $50 a week however as my parents were putting me up so I could put myself through college. They never had the money to do this. I am still very close to my entire family. When my mom got sick, I did the shopping and a lot of the cleaning. All this was while working at least 40 hrs per week and taking 2-3 classes per semester.
I had already been out on my own, so I felt pretty well prepared for life away for the nest. My plans changed rapidly when I met my future wife and we moved in together in an apartment inconvenient to both of our jobs and schools but between them. I guess my original plan would have put me over 25 if they had not changed suddenly. So I guess I was close to being a loser.
I guess I find this thread kind of funny. I know if a girl I was interested in lived at home still; it would not have bothered me. I liked the fact my wife spent most weekends with her parents and had only moved out the year before I met her. She was 25 when she did. The fact that she was close to her family was a big bonus to me. I considered family very important, even as a 23 year old.
OK, I’ll put myself out here as a perfect example. Other than living in a dormitory for the 4 years I was at university, I’ve lived at home. I still do. I’ve also been married to Mr. Kiz for almost 4 years. The deed will be in my name later this week, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
I am an only. My father died when I was 13. My mother never remarried.
Up until a few years ago, I never made enough to move out. I spent most of my 20s and and early 30s in jobs that paid the bills and little else. Mom and I had an agreement -- I was welcome to stay provided that I kicked in for bills, did the housework, and cooked dinner. Over half of my weekly paycheck went to groceries, utilities, and my car/insurance payment. Mom paid the rest from a combination of my dad’s estate and her FT job. For many years we lived comfotably enough to afford vacations and the occasional splurge.
This is not to say that I stayed home the entire time because I didn’t. Occasionally I’d take a second job if finances were tight. I had boyfriends who had their own places I took vacations with friends and paid my share myself. I put myself through both grad and culinary school on my own. The only time I’d ask Mom for $ was when I’d find myself in a tight spot, which, thankfully, didn’t happen very often. I always paid her back, no questions asked.
The big thing was that I was company for her, and vice versa. Maybe it’s only child guilt, but I’ve always felt some responsibility for her. Before the Alzheimer’s she was incredibly self-sufficient, but had few friends and never expanded her social circle. In some twist of codependence, I became her “only reason for living” (her mantra through my teens, btw), which, in turn, made me feel guilty if I even thought of going off on my own, no matter how hard the struggle might be. I spent a good deal of time in therapy trying to come to terms with it.
Mom was formally diagnosed with Alzheimer’s right before Mr. Kiz and I married., although I suspect she’d had it for a few years before. We had to shelve plans moving into our own place because Mom could not live by herself. I am her DPOA, health proxy, and bookkeeper. The house is mine through Medicaid’s “caretaker child” clause, hence the deed I mentioned above.
Do I think I’ve missed anything not being out on my own? Yeah, I’ll admit it. I’ve never “tested my wings”, so to speak. I have no idea of what it’s like to be totally self-sufficient, nor how not to depend, in any way, on anybody else except myself. Now that ALZ has removed a safety net of sorts, I’m frightened every so often. I think it’s natural to feel that, given the circumstances. However, I’m never been so dependent to think I cannot function without Mom because I’ve always known I could – like I’ve said, the opportunity has never presented itself until now. Mr. Kiz likens it to my being a late bloomer in that what I’m going through now is akin to what somebody in their 20s would be going through.
Going back to athelas’s post, I think there’s more of a stigma for guys living at home than girls. In Mom’s ethnic background, for instance, it’s expected that a daughter lives at home until she marries. Mom did before she married Dad. Ditto her friends back then. My female cousins did the same. It’s just the way it is, so, from that viewpoint, I never questioned it.
I don’t live with my parents, but the only reason for that is because they’re in another country. Both they and I would love to live together.
Our family has always been poor, you see, and the family living together was just something you did - housing was too expensive to waste on silly vanities like “being a loser”. I’ve lived in tiny accomodations shared with lots of other people my whole life, and I like it just fine. On my last vacation, I spent 2 weeks living in 7 Euro/day hostels and a week in 200 Euro/day hotels, and I enjoyed the former a lot more. When I visit my parents in their 3500 sq ft mansion, I’m bored to tears and can’t wait to return to my 700 sq ft house that I share with 7 other people. All I’ve ever wanted was a wam bed and a roof over my head, there are more important things in the world than houses for me to worry about.
I suppose the same rich ignoramuses would probably think I was a “loser” because I chose to take the bus instead of drive a car. Oh well, I already have a girlfriend(who thinks the same way I do) and all the action I can handle, so your loss.
I feel uncomfortable with some of the tones because it assumes that anyone who moved back home after college seems to not have any life experience. Not everyone who goes to college lives in the dorms, and it’s not like you don’t get any life experience if you have roommates for all the years of college. Living with people you don’t know very well does give you some life experience, especially if the people you live with have issues or tend to make living with them more difficult than it has to be. I learned just about everything that you learned (minus the car bit) while in college, and I admit that, while I had to learn the “maintenance of a car” bit after moving back home, I certainly did not get coddled with any of it. Honestly, before moving out of the house, I think I was probably one of the best prepared kids for living on my own out of all of the college freshmen I knew. There were kids who were better prepared in my circle, but part of that comes along with a lot of baggage of them not having supportive parents or them going along some sort of “emancipation route of discovery” before they were necessarily ready for it; they knew how to manage on their own, but their emotional growth was stunted. A lot of how people turn out depends on their life choices and priorities, and to some of us, financial stability is more important than “not being a loser” to people who think that independence doesn’t include financial stability.
Mmph, I’ve lived in one-bedroom apartments, my name on the lease, since I’ve been out of college, and I really don’t see what the big ‘learning experience’ is of living on your own. The bills are in your name, so you learn how to complain to a call center, but beyond that I’m not sure what else I’ve done that a contributing adult would also do while living with their parents. Its entirely possilbe that they do more housework, actually, because a house just needs more upkeep than an apartment. I guess I’ve lived in larger cities and most of my friends are also college grads, so I’ve seen plenty of situatations where the kids gets the fun downtown apartment, but when they need a ride Dad drives in from the suburbs, or if they get sick they go home to Mom. I certainly have friends who lived at home (guys and girls) who were more stable and self-suffient than 20somethings I’ve known who bounce around between apartments. The ones at home almost always have school loans, and since my parents paid for everything when I was in school, I can’t really look down on them and say I’m more independent. Now, I definatly think that moving to a different city where you don’t have any family is a big deal, but its not really an experience that I would say someone needs to go through. But just moving a few miles away? Eh, doesn’t seem like that big of an accomplishment.
My response to this is kinda what I stated to DianaG:
To both of you… maybe I explained it poorly before. When I say I understand, I mean that I know I’m not fully vested in my situation. The bottom line is this, I realize I don’t own my parents house. I realize that I only “help out”. I also realize that I will have to be more responsible when I have my own place. I never said that I don’t believe you in that things will be different, I know this. But considering what I do help out with, I’ll have a distinct edge in my opinion. So that when I am out, my helping out with my folks has given myself “entry level” experience if you will… so I won’t be clueless to the things that would be required in my newfound responsibility. As opposed to someone just starting out at 18 who needs to figure it out right away with a “hit and miss” approach.
featherlou, I’ll make an effort to report back on my situation when I’m out. Maybe a “failure to launch to success” thread…
Well, looking at it from the other side, I don’t really understand why several posters seem to assume that parental expectations that adult children move out and assume their own responsibilities means that the family is not a close or loving one. I do think it’s a problem for many families with freeloading young adults – and I am NOT applying that term to anyone in this thread – that they think they can’t kick the grown baby bird out of the nest because to do so would be unloving or unkind. That doesn’t follow, IMO.
My family is very close by American standards. I moved across the continent to be physically closer to my siblings and their children, and I wouldn’t be surprised if my parents do the same. I talk to my sister virtually every day, my brother weekly, and my parents several times a week. I see my sister and brother at least a couple times a month (I live 150 miles away) and the entire family gets together for every major holiday. We kids have always been blessed to know that our parents would support us emotionally and if necessary financially if we ever truly needed it – and we have. BUT . . .
My father’s expectation was that when we were old enough to work by law (16), we would be working if we were not in school. (“School is your job, and if you’re not in school you’ll find another job.”) Summers in late high school and throughout college and grad school – you had a jobby-job. Where you were old enough to live on your own, you did so. If school prevented you from earning enough to pay your bills, he covered the difference within reason. If you weren’t in school, you were responsible for taking care of your own needs and meeting your own expenses. Certainly you could move back home for a summer if you had a job in the hometown (as both my brother and I did at various times), because getting and furnishing an apartment for three months made no sense. But if you moved back to the hometown permanently (as I did after grad school), you got your own place. Truly moving back home was not an option.
I think if we had been in the position that we could not afford a place of our own for lack of a deposit or bad financial planning, my dad would have advanced us the money before he allowed us to move back home – which is not to say he would have been happy about it. But there was always an assumption that once you were grown you were physically on your own, because that’s what a grown-up does – moves out of his/her parents’ house and starts a life of his/her own. That doesn’t mean that my parents did not love us or that our family wasn’t and isn’t close; it just means that my parents apparently would disagree with some other parents as to what was best for their children. That doesn’t make the “come on home” parents spineless wet noodles, but it also doesn’t make the “you can’t come home” parents heartless meanies. I don’t see why parenting styles or personal choices should equate to love or the absence of it.
I’d say it takes a lot more responsibility and maturity to live peacefully with one’s parents, as an adult, than it does to simply wallow in one’s own filth in an apartment that someone else owns. I know which one is easier, that’s for sure.
Well, I don’t think I ever hit “loserdome” despite the fact that I bounced back and forth a little - I moved out when I was 18 to live with a friend and then returned home when I went to college.
After college I found a good job, met a boy, fell in love and we moved in together. Then 18 months later, he announced that he was gay and having an affair with his best friend. Frankly, I was completely devastated so I moved back in with my parents because I really needed their support. I did pay them a rather sizable amount of rent - $800/month in 1998 - I could have gotten an apartment for much less (about $400) however, the $800 did include everything.
I saved up until I was 25 and then bought my condo where I have lived ever since. So, I’m not sure if that makes me a loser or not. I mean, now I’m 34 and it’s pretty well a moot point. Anyone who wouldn’t date me now because of something that happened 9 years ago is a bit odd themselves.
As to the OP, assuming a person has being doing something - an advanced degree, caring for an ailing parent, saving for a down payment in a tight market, I give a person till about 28 or 29 before I consider them a “loser”. After that it just starts to become a cliché.
Ask me again in a few months, and I’ll say it’s 30.
Honestly, I know I’m a cliche, and I know I’ve fucked a lot of things up, but oh well, what can you do? At the same time, I’m not about to live my life to satisfy the opinions of a bunch of random strangers.
Some of it’s probably my fault, some of it maybe not. I can only say that a few weeks ago, I was DAMNED lucky to be living at home. So it’s a trade off.
At least I’m no longer jobless-and what’s more, I LIKE my job.
(I suppose it could be far worse. I could be like this old guy I’m watching on the History Channel. He was a packrat who kept everything-including his old teeth and his dead cat-in boxes in the basement.)
ETA: waves to her fanclub. You know who you are! smooches
Chiming in rather late on this thread, I feel a lot of this has to do with intent. For example, Young people who have moved back home for financial reasons with intent to get out and be on a solid footing seem to get a pass; while others who appear less goal oriented are sponges or losers. Caring for an elderly or infirm relative gets a pass; while sharing with an older competant relative doesn’t. Though i’m not certain if their is an actual age at which the loser stamp might get applied, I’d have to apply the one year rule. Basically, if a young adult has lived at least one year on their own without support, then moving back home to collect their finances or search for a new job is certainly not loser-ish. Those who have never bothered even to try get the mark at age 25.
Check – she’s not still living with parents. This is a good sign.
Check – a gainfully employed professional. This is an even better sign.
Check – a person of maturity and life experience. Hey, we might be onto something good here!
Ah, crap. There goes any hope for a date. I’m shattered – if I had parents, I’d move back in with them just for support.
More seriously, I would not automatically think that a person is a loser if they were out of school and still living in their parents’ home. I would, however, take a good hard look. Are they there because it is their culture? Are they there because of legitimate health or financial reasons? Are they there simply because they and their parents all enjoy it? Or, are they there because they are emotionally immature, or because they are sponging? There are just too many variables for me to automatically assume the worst.
I do not believe that moving out on one’s own necessarily results in one maturing. Throatwarbler Mangrove’s point about it being easier to live on one’s own than live with one’s parents as an adult is bang on the money. The key phrase there is “as an adult.” It is the easiest thing in the world for an immature young adult to simply leave the nest rather than to learn to relate as an adult with his or her parents. Anyone think that dorms or frats or bachelor pads are fonts of wisdom and maturity?
The other side of the coin, however, is that sometimes the process of the parties learning to relate as adults is made more difficult when there is no distinct break in the ongoing relationships that forces the parties to re-define their relationships. For example, a parent continuing to cook and clean despite the child being capable, or a parent continuing to pay for everything despite the child being capable, sets a pattern that needs to broken. In such situations, a child may not mature in some respects simply because the parents and the child are too willing to continue on in an adult to child relationship rather than an adult to adult relationship. Leaving the nest can help break this pattern.
As we all know, there are trade-offs in life. Living on one’s own while dating is wonderful – something that people living with their parents will not know. There is a sense of freedom and the possibility of growing in whichever direction one chooses. But living with one’s parents in an adult relationship is also quite wonderful. There is a great difference between knowing your parents as a youth, and knowing your parents as an adult. Living with them as an adult enriches the relationship tremendously, for you are better able to understand and enjoy them. Pick one path, or pick the other path. Both can be good directions, but remember that in picking a path, one necessarily will miss benefits from the path not taken.
I say this because in my own life, I lived as an adult with my parents on a couple of occasions. The first time was due to finances. My folks were financially wiped out, transferred to the middle of nowhere, and then unexpectedly became unemployed, while at the same time I was attending university in a different city where the best I could manage was a place with no heat, electricity, or water, and a paucity of interior walls and floors. It made sense for me to transfer to a different university so that the three of us could live together while I worked to pay the mortgage and put food on the table. Being together again gave us all a greater sense of security, and it was a lot of fun as a family getting to meet people in our new community and develop new friendships. As a child and a youth, I had always known my folks were good people, but returning to live with them as an adult showed me nuances that greatly increased the depth of respect – even awe – in which I held them. That period lasted a couple of years, until my father’s career was back on track and until I finished university. It was a very good time, and despite it obviously putting a dent in my ability to do what I wanted when I wanted the way some other students were able to live, it was time well spent. Dating for me was not any different than dating was for the majority of my fellow students, for most of them lived with their parents too.
The second occasion was immediately following my mother’s death, through my father’s insanity, and ending with his death. Again, this was a couple of years. My mother’s illness had taken the mickey out of me and my father. Emotionally it was brutal, as anyone who has lost a close family member would know, and physically it was very challenging, for during her illness I was working full time in one city, attending grad school full time in the evenings (actually, on course overload to be correct) in another city, and spending my weekends with my parents in their city – putting over 8,000 kilometers on my car each month. After my mother died and I finished my course work, I moved in with my father, returned to the job I previously had in my parent’s city, and completed my thesis. He needed me, and I needed him. We played golf a couple of times a week, played duplicate bridge once a week, and held dinners and went out to dinners with friends a couple of times a week. He helped me with the proofreading of my thesis, I helped him debug some programs from his job, and we puttered about together on some fun projects (e.g. guessing at the circumference of the earth based on seeing Sudbury’s superstack from Killarney’s Silver Mountain). We kept each other moving forward, when separately, I expect that each of us would have simply sunk out of grief.
Toward the completion of my thesis, my father’s health took a turn for the worse, and he lost his mind, so upon graduation, I took a couple of jobs teaching at the university and the college in my father’s city and continued to live with him – this time in a solely supportive role. At first, it was hard but doable. Toward the end, when he thought the family cat was me, and didn’t know who the hell I was, and was physically violent, it was very hard – the hardest times I have ever gone through. That being said, however, if I could go back in time, I would do it all over again, for family always comes first, and caring for a family member when that person needs you is more than enough reward in and of itself. Ask yourself what you would give up to have one more year with someone you have lost, and you will see why I made the decision that I did.
These two occasions when I moved back in were each a couple of years long, which was a rather long time for me as a young man. Essentially I was out of the market during those years – the same years my friends married and had children. Obviously I missed out on a lot – certainly I missed out on being a young adult setting up house for the first time with a young spouse – but having had the opportunity to be with my parents as an adult, I have to say that it was a fair trade. Since then, dating resumed (although I am not dating anyone at the moment), I went back to living without a care in the world (I live in a ski chalet in a magical forest), and life continues to be a blast, with lots of friends and activities. I’m now middle-aged, and I honestly don’t know if I will settle down and have kids or step-kids – I’m in no rush, for I don’t have to worry about a biological clock, and I really enjoy the tranquility and freedom of living on my own. I expect, however, that those four years that I spent as an adult with my parents will hold me in good stead should I decide to settle down someday.
One of my friends has a skin problem that is aggravated by clothing. Given her d’ruthers, she’d spend all day and all night not wearing a stitch.
That is well and fine with her husband, who worked very hard for many years, looking forward to the day that he could retire and stay at home all day every day with his naked wife doing whatever naked couples do.
No sooner had he retired, than their son, a marketing account exec from Calgary in his late forties, lost his job and moved back in with them in Toronto. Instead of finding another job, the son spends his time playing tennis, playing golf, and attending at the Granite Club, entirely on his parents’ tab. He’s now making noises about becoming a professional trainer and wanting his parents to pay his way through college for that program.
Thanks to him, his mom is unbearably itchy, and his dad has a different sort of itch that his mom can’t scratch when and where she would like. This middle-aged son is sponging off them like I have never seen anyone sponge before, and there is no end in sight, for his parents just are not the types to show him the door. This fellow, in my humble opinion, is a loser. A woman would have to be nuts to go near him.
Please, his folks are just as much to blame. No one gets sympathy from me about their living situation if a simple “no” would have prevented it or a “you need to move out now” would fix it.
).
I took vacations with friends and paid my share myself. I put myself through both grad and culinary school on my own. The only time I’d ask Mom for $ was when I’d find myself in a tight spot, which, thankfully, didn’t happen very often. I always paid her back, no questions asked.
