When the son moves back home
Both children were at boarding school for four years. After a brief period of emptiness during the first few weeks, known as the empty nest syndrome, my husband and I have filled our part-time childless lives well. And during the week, we treat ourselves to evening outings that we didn't even realise existed. But now our son has finished his A-levels and has moved back home with his bag and baggage. This has brought our parents' life of fortune telling to an abrupt end.
Of course, we knew that our children would not simply disappear when they finished school at a boarding school. We were always there for them at weekends, during the holidays and in between with all kinds of advice and support. But there were these windows of time in between when we parents could actually do what we wanted. Without informing anyone that we were simply staying out one night or that we didn't want to put dinner on the table today because we were going to the cinema.
We had our lives back, as a couple, the bathroom was just ours, there were only two pairs of shoes outside the front door and they were organised. Just as our hearts were almost bursting at the beginning, when our offspring had just left home, they later did somersaults at the newly won freedom.
Since this summer, my son has returned. Graduation in the bag, along with a lot of boarding school clutter that has piled up over the years. He beams at us: «I'm moving back in with you!» After all the hard mental work and emotional stress, it's time for a chilled-out gap year. Resting, refuelling, finding out where life will take you. Aha.
Free board and lodging at Hotel Mama
Naturally, we were happy to reopen Hotel Mama: We extended breakfast and other meal times, kept the bath towels off the floor (but only changed them when necessary for the sake of the environment) and washed the white socks and T-shirts separately from the Hawaiian shirts.
His primary school friends are now shuffling through our hallway as two-metre men - didn't they just recently reach just under my armpits? The music blares deep into the night and the fridge door opens and closes to the beat. Kitchen fumes seep out from under the door, no matter how dark it is outside.
In general, olfactory perception between parents and children is not on the same nose length.
And in one fell swoop, parental freedom is restricted again. Of course he doesn't want to live with us forever, says the boy, but at the moment he's saving up for a little trip, so living outside the family nest would of course be pointless. Logo. And after the backpacking trip, maybe chilling with us again for a few months would be pretty cool. But only if he wasn't disturbed. In his life. Otherwise I don't think he could stand it with us any longer. I see.
New house rules at Hotel Mama
So we've been living next door to each other again for a few months now, we with his habits and he with ours. Hotel Mama now has a few house rules hanging at reception: Carry laundry to the laundry room, sort it and load it into the machine yourself. Leave the kitchen as you found it. This also applies to the bathroom.
Table mates, if at official times, will be announced. Special requests in the fridge must be fulfilled individually. Empties do not go to the glass containers on their own: those who can drink can also dispose of them. And no smoking in the house, gopf!
In general, olfactory perception between parents and children is not on the same nose length, so to speak. Which can really heat up the atmosphere in the room. And can sometimes cause the son to smell the air, but before he does, he's quick to say, «Mummy, you're not happy that I'm home!».
Back on field 1?
So our lives have adapted a little to the life of our offspring. When the boy crawls out of his room at one o'clock in the afternoon and searches helplessly for the butter in front of the open fridge, I rush to the scene and navigate for him. When he shovels the food into himself with one hand and wipes his mobile phone with the other, I remind him of the deal we made earlier: no smartphones at the table while we're eating - otherwise it'll go! Ha ha, it totally works. It doesn't.
He will soon be travelling. We are happy for him. And between you and me, a little for us too. Then we'll have another three months of the part-time parenting programme. When he comes back, he wants to do an internship in the neighbourhood. And then, contrary to his earlier intentions, perhaps study in Switzerland after all, he says. It's pretty chilled at the moment, the way it is. Thank you, I say. Maybe it's meant as a compliment.
We could do with a little cheering up right now, because: Remo Largo explained to us in the film «We Parents» that children used to leave home at the age of 20. But today you can easily add 15 years to that. Our boy will soon be 21, so Hotel Mama may well be open for a few more seasons.
