Nothing is mine anymore!

Now you can have your Billo headset back," says Ben. Because he got new AirPods for Christmas. And as long as this pointlessly overpriced teenage must-have, which I ignorantly continue to call «EarPods», doesn't disappear under any train seats or into the endless expanse of a holiday camp like the one before it and the one before that, my Billo headset is mine again. Hooray!

Everyone is happy that Ben now has AirPods and I have my headphones back: Passers-by in the park no longer have to listen to French hip-hop when I walk past them, and my children are spared Laurie Penny's feminist remarks while I hang up their washing.

For many mothers, this dispossession effect occurs immediately after the birth of their children. First they take away our social life, then our job prospects, later our freedom and our figure. As they grow up, they take our headsets, charging cables and bicycles, chocolates from the linen cupboard and our last reserves for trendy trainers and school trips. As teenagers at the latest, they help themselves at home, true to Tina Turner's motto: «What you see is what you get!»

In case your gloves are currently rotting somewhere under the school desk: There are still mine, which I can get back later, either individually or with a hole. The same applies to scarves and hats that don't have any flowers or pink colours on them, which could imply that they are «girls' things». I wore my new cashmere hat about five times before it disappeared into the eternal hunting grounds of our city's wild west. Unfortunately, it was blue.

Bathroom utensils are often regarded as common property.

Before I had children, there were things that belonged to me. I had batteries in my TV remote control and my Christmas lights before they were needed for remote-controlled cars or X-Box controllers. I had secret passwords for my PayPal account, Apple ID, streaming providers, my second and third email addresses.

If I change a password in a fit of rage today to stop a previously unnoticed debit for an ongoing gaming subscription, I naturally forget the new one right after I set it! In situations like this, I have to ask Caspar to somehow get my messed-up account unblocked.

Inhumane circumstances

A few days ago, there was an empty pack of cotton wool pads on the bath mat next to the toilet. «What am I supposed to do if there's no more toilet paper?» Ben grumbles reproachfully. As if this inhumane situation, which other children are only familiar with from fast food restaurants or airport toilets, is a purely maternal failure at home. He would have had to bend down to move a new roll of toilet paper from the bathroom shelf to the holder provided. And that was before doing his big business. My make-up remover pads, on the other hand, were easy to reach from a sitting position.

Bathroom utensils are generally regarded as common property. I've just had to dispose of my Marlies Möller hair treatment from the edge of the bathtub, completely watered down, the pot was there without a lid and the treatment was ruined. My question: «Which one of you short-haired tigers is actually using my expensive anti-split treatment?» The answer from both, in unison: «My brother!»

So am I somehow to blame as a mum if I couldn't really communicate the differences between yours and mine?

It is now established scientific fact that parents must attribute their children's lies and other misbehaviour to their own educational failures. So am I as a mum somehow to blame if I wasn't able to properly communicate the differences between yours and mine?

The other day, when I borrowed Caspar's cool down parka to get bread rolls, he said: «So mum, everyone knows that's my jacket...!» By everyone, does he mean the almost two million inhabitants of our city, all his mates from the neighbourhood who see me out shopping, or all three members of our household? In any case, there is much to suggest that the ownership structure is clearly defined in this case. His is his.

It is not like a socialist collective farm where everything belongs to everyone, but more like a kind of arbitrary rule without a focus on the common good, even a slightly modified monarchy in which two monarchs form the sovereign. They own what belongs to them. And what is mine is theirs too.

For a while, my displeasure with this even led to me storing milk cartons with one last sip in them on my windowsill behind the curtain so that I wouldn't find an empty carton in the fridge the next morning. I don't like black coffee. But as a mum, should I now stick Post-Its with my name on food like I used to when I lived in a shared flat?

As a teenager, I knew very well that my home was not an all-inclusive, self-service arrangement. When I stole a Mozartkugel from my mum's packet in the bedside table (I knew they were counted out!), I bought them one by one from my pocket money and then draped them back in the empty box. One ball cost almost two marks back then, as much as two bars of chocolate or 20 sherbet sticks, and you had to go to the nearest town for them!

I only realised that stolen Mozartkugeln or cigarettes are perfectly acceptable years later, on an evening at a well-heeled friend's house by the fairy pond. For fear of burglars, he kept valuables and cash in a safe in the kitchen. 1000 euros were missing from his undamaged safe. Watches, jewellery and most of the money were still there. His 15-year-old blamed the crime on burglars, which he found totally plausible given his father's fears. My friend was sad: his own son, a thief!

For a few seconds I think it's theft. Then it beeps, Ben has written a WhatsApp.

I wanted to comfort him and said that the boy had only taken a fraction of the money, which he would certainly want to give back later! But I thought to myself that I would never have teenagers, and if I did, I certainly wouldn't have any that couldn't tell the difference between yours and mine.

Just before Christmas, I want to get on my e-bike despite the pouring rain because I need beer and a few nuts for the evening. But where is my rain cape? And the battery, usually always in the same place, is also missing!

Mum should chill

Shit, I think, now I have to ride without the motor while I look for my bike in the yard.

For a few seconds I think it's theft. Then it beeps, Ben has written a WhatsApp: «Borrowed your bike for a bit. Need sweets urgently now. But you can chill, Mum, I've got your debit card...»

Okay, I think, as long as he still uses possessive pronouns - and write back: «All right! Then I'll just take your scooter and your pocket money from your piggy bank. Because I really need alcohol right now!»