Homing Kids Who Haven't Learned To Fly

Cyndi Seidler
05/10/06

I thought it was going to be a yippie-yah-yeah day when my 25-year old daughter moved out.  Oh, she's moved out before, but she came back.  However, this time I'm pretty sure she's out for good. Yet why wasn't I celebrating my freedom?

I've experienced her moving days a few times in the past and, each time I thought I'd be throwing a party afterwards. However, I usually just ended up getting right to work to set up her old room for my new space. That was usually a fun thing for me to do.

One time I had a whole indoor gym set up in my daughter's old room.  It had a television and stereo and workout equipment.  And, the extra closet was divine.  I put all my seasonal and dress-up clothes in it.

Now, the fact that I never used the indoor gym is irrelevant. She came back several months later and needed her room back.  I told myself I was going to miss that gym which I could have used if I wanted to.  That was why it was there, after all.

Another time she left was to move to the big city of New York. I wasn't thrilled to see her go such a distance from Los Angeles, but I wanted her to succeed in her new adventure and so I supported her wishes.

This move wasn't going to be the usual pack-your-bags-and-leave move.  It would require a lot more planning. She didn't let me help her do any of the planning though and I can't tell you how hard that was on me. You would think she'd realize that it was only fair to let me put my professional organizing two-cents in about the whole affair.  But no, she's a grown up, she reminded me, and would take care of everything on her own.

"Mom, you have to let me take care of things on my own," she demanded.  "I did, after all, learn from the best," she added.  I admit, she knew how to work me.

So, she headed to New York with five large suitcase bags in tow. And this time, I decided to use her room as a guest room.  Once again I got busy doing a makeover on the space, and tested all my newfound decorating skills I learned from television shows.

But, why bother to tell you all about that hard work when you know what happens next.  She moved back.

It was hard giving up the guest room I never used. I had full intention to have out of town guests, even though the occasion just didn't come up while my daughter lived elsewhere. And, I was sure it would come up after she moved back.

Now, I won't tell you about each and every room makeover I did when my daughter moved out.  I'm not writing a novel here.  I will tell you that there was a time it was different. 

You see, I had moved to a different house while she was living elsewhere. This wasn't any attempt to try and loose her, mind you. I was simply ready for a change.

Anyway, my new home didn't have a den for my home office, so I used a bedroom for it. I spread myself out all over the place.  It was all mine!

Enjoy it while I could is what life had in mind for me. When circumstances didn't work out for my daughter who had been out experiencing life again on her own, she arrived at my door step with suitcases in hand.

"Hi Mom! Where should I put my suitcases?" she greeted happily. I refrained from telling her to just leave them outside.

I then offered to give her a little space in my office and told her she could sleep on the futon "guest bed" there.  But she insisted on sleeping on the sofa in the living room instead.

Not having a bedroom to give back to her wasn't the only thing that affected my way of living.

My cherished garage space became taken over with boxes I didn't have space for, several large suitcases, and other things I wasn't going to allow inside the house. My dressers and bedroom closet had to be reworked to accommodate her clothing. And, let's not talk about my bathroom which was once all my own.

I wasn't going to think about it. I would just deal with it. Changing spaces was something I should be used to by now anyway.

Let's fast forward to a few months ago when she found a place to live and was going to move out again.  She was moving into a room in a house with another girl her age. I insisted on stepping in to ensure all matters were taken care of, and checked to see if she did this and did that and whether those other things would be done in time.

"Contacted the phone company?" I asked.  "Yes, mother," she answered. "How about contacting your creditors with your new address?" I asked. "Yes, mother!," she replied.  "And what about utilities?" I asked.

That must have been the final straw for her. "My roommate already has utilities; I'm renting a room in her house!" she yelled.

Then I got the daughter-mother lecture.  I know it should be the other way around, but not when you know my kid.

It's been three months now.  I've re-organized my closets, my garage, my bathroom, and my office. Although I preach that organization is a never-ending process, I never realized I would get so much personal practice.

And now that room makeovers seem to be a never-ending lifestyle for me, the good thing is I'll never be bored.

But, just in case, I've changed my locks.