I had a birthday visit from my oldest today. She’s a surrogate daughter, an adopted sister soul to our family. And she spoke of feeling that need to have a nesting partner. That next chapter where you feel the need to share your space with someone and your DNA with the world.
I have always been a nester. And there was no one worthy of doing this with me until I met my husband. I knew he’d value the fathering job as much as I honored the idea of mothering. But Boy Howdee, sharing constant space with these mooks for nearly a year has been a challenge.
I abhor visual chaos. It was how I grew up. So living with a teenager has become a battle against the chaos. A recent discussion about rules restriction and entitlement had me write this.
“Your privilege leaves a small wake of chaos behind you. Waste and messy spaces do not look like honor and respect of yourself, your home, or the people you share it with. When you regularly forget chores, your disregard for how it affects others could be remedied if you were aware your choices always affect others.”
My constant presence in the house has somehow substantiated my function as constant maid and waitress. And while I don’t mind doing for others, the moment it is expected and taken for granted is the moment I’m unwilling to continue.
This parenting and marriage thing is a perpetual process. As I learn to respect myself more and learn I’m entitled to both parent and set boundaries, it does get slightly easier. I do see glimmers of hope when I hear thank you’s and pleases without prompting. But being responsible for 21 meals per week is exhausting. No not all of them are going to be healthy.
And when this is all over, I’ll be glad to have “time to myself”. But meanwhile I grab the time I can to write and event plan Christmas. And I endeavor to be honest with myself and my family about what’s getting on my nerves. And what I need to have happen to make it stop.
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