‘I’m 45 – and snapping at Mum like a child’ Abi Butcher

‘They’re in the back of the larder, but please don’t hold the glass jar by the lid.” That sentence, uttered by my mother as I made Florentines, lit the touch paper.

I’m 45 and living with my parents. It’s been more than 20 years since we last cohabited and in that time everything, and nothing, has changed.

I’ve bought, renovated and sold houses (and moved here while I’m renovating another), fallen in and out of love, forged a successful career and travelled the world.

Meanwhile, Mum first told me not to hold glass storage jars by their lids – in case they smash – when I was about 14.

That episode finished with me in my room, fuming at being treated like a child while simultaneously acting like one.

These spats have been a regular feature since I crashed their peace in March, arriving with a large dog and a bit more than a suitcase.

We’ve always had a really good relationship, which became a bit more grown-up after I left home at 20.

But when the first lockdown hit, we instantly fell into a parentchild dynamic.

When I’m told for the umpteenth time not to hold a jar by its lid, or how to load a washing machine or reverse a car and trailer – even though I’ve been doing them all for 20-odd years – I respond by snapping like a child.

Slowly, we’ve learnt how to live more harmoniously.

I appreciate how much I’ve impacted their lives and try to pick my battles.

I live with the guilt of not doing my own washing because it’s easier (and downright fantastic having Mum do it) and I insist on cooking a couple of times a week.

In turn, they keep quiet when I take my dog up to my room (highly prohibited 30 years ago) or make myself a gin and tonic (with my own personal gin).

We’re the same but different, and grateful to have this time together, even if we’ve had to adjust.

I’m getting to know them as people, as well as my parents.

The tables have turned at times. I’ve helped with iPads, online food shops, deciphering lockdown rules and taking out Netflix subscriptions.

I encourage them to go for a walk when they’re fed up, or to visit their grandchildren (when they were allowed).

But deep down, they will always be my parents: the people who call me Abigail (not Abi).

I appreciate how much I’ve impacted their lives and try to pick my battles