My name is Natalie. I’m 26 years old, and I live with my parents.
Essentially the purpose of this blog is so that I one day will not have to live with my parents. Get enough readers, acquire some ads along the sidebar, and presto: I’m a millionaire. We all have to start somewhere, right?
I must give credit where credit is due: this blog was my brother’s idea. He seems to think that writing a blog about living with our parents could be a hit. So much so that he told me if I didn’t act fast he was going to swipe this domain name and then sell it to me. One hour later www.livingwithmyparents.wordpress.com was created. I hope he’s right.
My parents recently moved to another city a few hours away from my hometown to be closer to family. Having quit my job in British Columbia a year ago to become a glorified volunteer/nomad for 10 months, I knew that when I stepped off the plane and onto Ontario soil in early June I was in no position to get my own place. It appeared that at 26 years of age, instead of moving forward, I was going back. Back to a time 8 years ago – when Friends was beginning its final season, Avril Lavigne was crooning “Complicated,” and living with my parents was a safe and comfortable season when I neither experienced nor anticipated the threat of the real world and all her expectations.
In some ways, living with my parents at 26 years old is much different that it was when I was a teenager. In others, it hasn’t changed at all. I still have to keep my room tidy and do the dishes. I have basic chores, and my parents expect me to tell them about my comings and goings. We take turns using the family computer (my laptop was stolen); and I continue to assure my dad, “Yes, I know where the gas station is,” and “No, I don’t need the GPS to get there.”
On the flip side, when I go out with my mom I’m no longer the passenger, but the driver. Instead of consuming the groceries, I’m the one buying them. And that home-cooked meal that I always looked forward to? You know the one! It makes visiting your parents both nostalgic and luxurious…now they’re prepared by me 50% of the time.
Overall, I’m enjoying this season of living with my parents: the mash-up between the old and the new; the mixture of well-known idiosyncrasies and unexplored territory. I think that I can learn a lot from living with my parents at this stage in my life, and in the meantime, hopefully offer up some comedy as I walk down yet another road in this thing called life.
Something you should know is that whether we’re in a restaurant, shopping mall, or our own home, conversations with my parents are never boring. Here’s a recent one that we had after I presented the idea of this blog:
Me: “Can you help me brainstorm some funny things about living with you?”
Mom: “We fart a lot.”
Me: “I don’t think you want me to put that in cyberspace!”
Dad: “No! I don’t want you writing about us on the internet. The FBI will come after us.”
I assured my mom that though her comment is embarrassing, it provides authentic content, and people are looking for something they can relate to. “Plus,” says my dad, “the average person farts 30 times a day.”
There you have it! That’s life…living with my parents.