Walk a fine line to avoid treading on toes
Most of everything I own is in a storage shed. To give you an idea, the cost of that is $256 a month. I say “most” of it because I have taken enough to occupy a room at my parents’ house where I currently live. Quite a tricky exercise working out what to take that you may or may not need and, to be honest, what you actually can’t have access to because it’s squashed behind your lounge suite, coffee table, art or washing machine.
There are times when I have been able to go to the shed to retrieve one or two things that I can reach. Other times I just go and stand in it so I can see that I do actually own enough to create a lovely home again. Mostly I stand there and feel sad; lost and not where I want to be in life. But I also feel lucky that at least I have an option to live with my parents.
I keep a close eye on the rental market and now even a one or twobedroomed flat is around the $500-600 mark. Completely unattainable when I’m responsible for every bill.
When you live with your parents, you have to walk a fine line. They have a dog that isn’t low maintenance. I asked Mum exactly what breed Georgie Girl is and she said “little s...”. One hundred per cent correct, but she’s actually a poodle-terrier cross with a back left leg that doesn’t work, so they got her for the bargain price of free because the breeder didn’t feel it appropriate to charge for a damaged dog.
She can get out the dog door but can’t get back in so it’s a constant up and down of letting her in the house or luring her with cashew nuts. She should have been called Undertaker because she buries undies, hankies, gardening gloves and, her personal favourite, the bra. She’s also eaten one of Mum’s hearing aids. That dog breeder should have paid us to take her.
I say you walk a fine line with your parents because I don’t want to tread on their toes or upset their routine, but I want to be able to take pressure off both of them because Dad isn’t in good health and is awaiting knee replacement surgery and isn’t as able as he once was. Mum also has ways that she likes to do things and, although she taught me to cook, we still do things differently. I’ve decided that I’m a bit of a pain in the patootie. I’m always want to be doing things. Me between jobs can be problematic because I keep trying to find jobs to do to help and, sometimes, they find that annoying.
There’s a saying that “only boring people get bored” but I’m just not good at sitting and doing nothing. The most important thing when it comes to Dad is that he still wants to feel vital and sometimes I don’t give him that chance. We play musical chairs a lot because Dad has different chairs that he sits on for different purposes – reading in one chair, watching TV in another – and I never know which one he is going to choose at any one time.
I know what particular cup they like their tea in (the coffee cups are different), I know their daily routine to the second and I watch every episode of Doc Martin and Midsomer Murders with them.
Living with my parents is a privilege. It has allowed me to be here when they have gone through things with their friends and relatives and, at this age, it is mainly friends who are ill or, in one particular case, my Mum’s precious cousin who has days to live. They have also had to put down a much-loved family dog and, if I wasn’t here, I wouldn’t get to see that first-hand and help support them.
This isn’t one-way traffic by any stretch of the imagination; because of them, I am in a better mental position. Hence, when I feel I’m a bit behind the eight ball, I remember how lucky I am that I have them to share my life with.
To end on a lighter note, I was sitting at the computer yesterday and a woman in her 70s came to the window and said, “I’m sorry but I think that your husband’s letter has accidentally been delivered to my home.” I thanked her and passed the letter to Dad and said, “There you go dear, a letter for you”. Dad is 80 this year. Clearly, at the age of 52, I need to do a bit of work on my beauty regime.