If I was an optomist, I would say my cup runnth over and surely goodness and light will follow me always. Ain't family fun! But since I am a realist, I sit in the corner whimpering and softly moaning with anticipation. It looks like my daughter Candace (aka 'mom') and her two boys, Darius and Vyron, will be moving back in with gramma. Again.
My once spacial environment (small apartment) will once again be filled with wall-to-wall clutter, loud and constant noise, and endless activity that could cause a monk to beg for mercy. There will be no quiet haven to run to for regrouping, unless you count my car. I guess I could go sit in my car and lock the doors when needed. Or... or drive away and never come back.
As of this writing I don't see an end in sight. I suppose there is one. Somewhere. Sometime. The move-in is scheduled to occur at the end of this month. Barring any miracles.
Don't get me wrong. I love my daughter and the boys. I want to help when I can. But this isn't how I expected my retirement years to be spent. Taking care of a grown-ass child and her off-spring. Does every family have one of these? A person who just doesn't seem to grasp the intention of adulthood? Of financial responsibility? A person who's fate causes them to be ever needy and unable to take care of themselves financially? My first four kids flew from the nest as soon as they were able to and they've never been back. It was hard getting this fifth child out of the nest at all and now she keeps coming back. Not by choice but by necessity. I know if she had any choices at all, she would not be moving back with me, if you know what I mean. "Whadda ya mean there's no room in the car... that means I have to move back in with my MOOOOOOTHER!! Oh Gawd NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
All I have to say is "What in the hell is she going to do when I'm dead?!?"