Moving back to your parents (avec child)
1
Its been 8 weeks and 6 days and 20 hours since we moved back to my parents house. Yes im counting. I haven’t moved back voluntarily, no no i have a valid reason.
So…me, my husband and our daughter had been living in Montreal, Canada for a year because of my husbands job, and we landed back in the UK on the 1st May with no where to live. Enter my parents gaff.
So after 8 and a half years of blissful parent free living we have had to suck it up and move into my parents house while we figure out our next move as a family and where we want to
SelfishMother.com
2
live.
I’m the eldest of 3 and my youngest sibling (my brother) has finally flown the family nest, much to my parents delight when their eldest decides to Facetime them once evening from across the pond with the big ask of us moving in with them along with husband and their grandchild. Aaawwwkkkkwwaarrrdd. And of course they said yes and have saved our bacon, phew… but moving home does come with its awkward downsides and we are all still figuring it all out weeks and weeks later. So with a cab so big it was practically a mini-bus we were homeward
SelfishMother.com
3
bound from our London hotel.
Now there’s something about moving back with your parents that while is practical in many ways (low/no rent, you can actually save some dosh and the fridge is always well stocked), but the other main bugbear for me personally is the fact that we are our own little family unit and have been for almost 3 years, with our own way of doing things and routine and we’d be moving back to my childhood home where I grew up. Ok it was a long time ago but the house represents my parents rules and their parenting style, which isn’t
SelfishMother.com
4
necessarily our style of parenting. My anxiety levels grew as we pulled up outside to see my rents’ looking out for us and then their eyes bulge in disbelief as they saw the amount of ’stuff’ we actually had with us – and this is before our shipping of even more ’stuff’ was to arrive via a boat weeks later.
So before we knew it the first day rolled into the first week and it was like visiting at Christmas or any other family get-together, all pleasant and all joking that our two year old was still a tad jet-lagged and out of routine and generally
SelfishMother.com
5
being a bit of a pain in the arse. Fast forward two weeks and that had worn off and i think it really dawned on them that we were actually living here not just here for a brief fly in visit and that the daily tantrums of a two year old were gonna be a regular thing.
Now me being at my family home I can handle, but its my poor husband and kid i feel sorry for. With me saying ’Dad’ when i mean to say ’Grandad’ in front of our daughter and ’Mum’ instead of ’Nan’ it got confusing for her for a while. I mean as much as we love our in-laws, who
SelfishMother.com
6
really wants to live with them full-time?!
On the other hand I feel bad for my parents who would be enjoying their ’empty nest’ phase of their lives. Especially when they almost stack it down the stairs because Mr Potato Head has been left on the landing or when they almost have a heart attack when they sit on the sofa and Bing bunny starts talking to them from behind the scatter cushions.
Now the other thing that worried and annoyed me was the discipline factor. While my parents aren’t exactly Victorian strict meanies and neither are they
SelfishMother.com
7
laid-back hippy types, there have been moments when our toddler would be naughty and before my husband could open him mouth to say something or tell her off, my Dad would jump in there first which really annoys us both as we feel it needs to come from us as her parents. With two alpha-males in the house tensions can rise as to who is going to do the telling off. My Dad has been told to take a back-seat while we try and resolve a toddler tantrums. Often this request is ignored and he puts himself in the front seat of discipline. Arghhh.
It’s mostly my
SelfishMother.com
8
Dad who forgets that I am an adult and parent and that I know my child better than anyone and we often lock-horns in proper showdown style arguments about who is right and who is wrong on lots of topics let alone parenting. My Mum is the softer, gentler, mother-hen who is very into cuddles, story-telling, baking and has the patience of a saint, whereas my Dad is he much stricter disciplinarian with little patience.
Its so awkward as you feel you can’t say anything as its their house and they are really helping us out having us here, but at the same
SelfishMother.com
9
time its our child and our rules as a family of 3. They were used to doing things their way raising us in the 80’s-90’s and my husband and I have taken the bits of parenting styles we like from each of our own upbringings and use that in our day to day life as parents.
In my parents eyes I am still their child and i think that sometimes they forget that now i am in my thirties and that i have a family of my own and my own parenting style that maybe wasn’t theirs. It sometimes feels like a tug of war as to who knows best.
I wonder if there are
SelfishMother.com
10
other families out there who have had to move back to a parents and have found it tricky to navigate parenting around their old/familiar or new surroundings?
I just know the day we finally move out there will be massive sighs of relief – from both parties! (checks Zoopla and RightMove for the hundredth time today).
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Kate Garnish - 26 Jul 16
Its been 8 weeks and 6 days and 20 hours since we moved back to my parents house. Yes im counting. I haven’t moved back voluntarily, no no i have a valid reason.
So…me, my husband and our daughter had been living in Montreal, Canada for a year because of my husbands job, and we landed back in the UK on the 1st May with no where to live. Enter my parents gaff.
So after 8 and a half years of blissful parent free living we have had to suck it up and move into my parents house while we figure out our next move as a family and where we want to live.
I’m the eldest of 3 and my youngest sibling (my brother) has finally flown the family nest, much to my parents delight when their eldest decides to Facetime them once evening from across the pond with the big ask of us moving in with them along with husband and their grandchild. Aaawwwkkkkwwaarrrdd. And of course they said yes and have saved our bacon, phew… but moving home does come with its awkward downsides and we are all still figuring it all out weeks and weeks later. So with a cab so big it was practically a mini-bus we were homeward bound from our London hotel.
Now there’s something about moving back with your parents that while is practical in many ways (low/no rent, you can actually save some dosh and the fridge is always well stocked), but the other main bugbear for me personally is the fact that we are our own little family unit and have been for almost 3 years, with our own way of doing things and routine and we’d be moving back to my childhood home where I grew up. Ok it was a long time ago but the house represents my parents rules and their parenting style, which isn’t necessarily our style of parenting. My anxiety levels grew as we pulled up outside to see my rents’ looking out for us and then their eyes bulge in disbelief as they saw the amount of ‘stuff’ we actually had with us – and this is before our shipping of even more ‘stuff’ was to arrive via a boat weeks later.
So before we knew it the first day rolled into the first week and it was like visiting at Christmas or any other family get-together, all pleasant and all joking that our two year old was still a tad jet-lagged and out of routine and generally being a bit of a pain in the arse. Fast forward two weeks and that had worn off and i think it really dawned on them that we were actually living here not just here for a brief fly in visit and that the daily tantrums of a two year old were gonna be a regular thing.
Now me being at my family home I can handle, but its my poor husband and kid i feel sorry for. With me saying ‘Dad’ when i mean to say ‘Grandad’ in front of our daughter and ‘Mum’ instead of ‘Nan’ it got confusing for her for a while. I mean as much as we love our in-laws, who really wants to live with them full-time?!
On the other hand I feel bad for my parents who would be enjoying their ’empty nest’ phase of their lives. Especially when they almost stack it down the stairs because Mr Potato Head has been left on the landing or when they almost have a heart attack when they sit on the sofa and Bing bunny starts talking to them from behind the scatter cushions.
Now the other thing that worried and annoyed me was the discipline factor. While my parents aren’t exactly Victorian strict meanies and neither are they laid-back hippy types, there have been moments when our toddler would be naughty and before my husband could open him mouth to say something or tell her off, my Dad would jump in there first which really annoys us both as we feel it needs to come from us as her parents. With two alpha-males in the house tensions can rise as to who is going to do the telling off. My Dad has been told to take a back-seat while we try and resolve a toddler tantrums. Often this request is ignored and he puts himself in the front seat of discipline. Arghhh.
It’s mostly my Dad who forgets that I am an adult and parent and that I know my child better than anyone and we often lock-horns in proper showdown style arguments about who is right and who is wrong on lots of topics let alone parenting. My Mum is the softer, gentler, mother-hen who is very into cuddles, story-telling, baking and has the patience of a saint, whereas my Dad is he much stricter disciplinarian with little patience.
Its so awkward as you feel you can’t say anything as its their house and they are really helping us out having us here, but at the same time its our child and our rules as a family of 3. They were used to doing things their way raising us in the 80’s-90’s and my husband and I have taken the bits of parenting styles we like from each of our own upbringings and use that in our day to day life as parents.
In my parents eyes I am still their child and i think that sometimes they forget that now i am in my thirties and that i have a family of my own and my own parenting style that maybe wasn’t theirs. It sometimes feels like a tug of war as to who knows best.
I wonder if there are other families out there who have had to move back to a parents and have found it tricky to navigate parenting around their old/familiar or new surroundings?
I just know the day we finally move out there will be massive sighs of relief – from both parties! (checks Zoopla and RightMove for the hundredth time today).
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Kate G, 34, Wife to Benn and mum to 5 year old Evie
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