Living the Millennial Life: 22 and at Home With Mom
I have a dirty little secret. Or maybe it’s not so much of a secret. I’m 22, graduated from college, I have a job and…wait for it…
I’m still living at home with my mom.
“Wait, what?” My 12-year-old self asks me. Yeah, I’m back home with Mama. And guess what, 12-year-old self, it’s not so bad. I’m not failing at my early twenties for taking up residence with my mom. Really, I’m being the quintessential member of my generation.
I know what I want in terms of my career. I have dreams of being the top of my field, I’m going to help people, and I will live comfortably. I plan to be crazily successful while having plenty of vacation time. Also, lots of monies in the bank. This is all totally going to happen with relative ease. Right.
Before arriving on the pedestal of success, I will work some jobs that don’t pay very much to get more of that “life experience.”
I want to get a master’s degree. Or maybe two! Who knows? Plenty of time. Also, it would be really nice to get other people to pay for those master’s degrees. You know?
I want to have a family someday, but I also want to have a lot of fun. I’m going to travel, meet people, and maybe write a book. All this is totally going to happen.
“Ok, Fiona,” you may say, “but what about the people who saw you off to college with bright visions of your future? Wouldn’t they be ashamed?”
Ok, maybe a little. Or maybe it’s just me. But honestly, this living at home stuff is pretty cool.
Exhibit A: I’m not doing my own laundry.
Exhibit B: Someone cooks for me, and my grocery bill is teeny-tiny.
Exhibit C: I get help cleaning my room.
(Wow, this is embarrassing)
You see what I mean, young self? Living at home is awesome. You can’t know until you’ve lived away from home, but your mother does a lot for you.
“This is true, Fiona. But doesn’t she tell you what to do?” You may ask.
Yes and no. It is her house and she makes the rules. The fun thing about being an adult living at home is that even though I have to ask Mama if I may do things, she usually says yes. She says yes even if that means staying out super-late with friends (though I do have to contend with the pursed-lips and ever so slightly narrowed eyes).
Admittedly, there are times when I regret staying home, like when it’s dark and I bang my shin on the pile of stuff Mama left in the hallway for me to clean up. But really, those little grumblings are minor.
So, young self, take my advice. Live at home again. It’s awesome.
It means late night movies with Mama, very occasional glass of wine included, and definite foot massages thrown in.
It means adult conversations, support, and advice from the person who has known me best, and is definitely most invested in my success.
I get to spend time with Mama every day. This includes hanging out, sharing ideas, supporting her and being supported, and, best of all, having my laundry done for me.
There won’t be another time in my life like this one.
Also, there’s the added bonus of not having to live like a real adult yet.
No, young self, I’m not failing. I’m definitely winning. World domination will come later. For now, dishes!
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