"HELP"

It must be a generational thing or maybe it's not.  Maybe it's the relationship that parents share with their children regardless of what generation they are from but I don't think so.  So let me talk this out. I was out with some friends the other night who brought their daughter along so that she could meet Nicole.  Both Italian, East Coast girls (and if you know any of those- you know there is a significance to that) around the same age.  We were talking about our blog and just sharing funny stories when our friend's daughter laughed, put up her hands and said in quotes with her hands, I know, they are just trying to "help" and the two girls started to laugh even harder.  She too has moved out and returned to the nest and is now back out.  We have other friends (and you know who you are) whose grown son has returned to the nest.  We laugh with them because they share the same experiences we do to a degree.  Don't ask them any questions because they think you are prying when really in fact you are just having a conversation.  So that makes me think it's a generational thing.  This is a new generation like none before it.  When my parents left home or we left home there was no going back.  Thus this whole back in the nest thing didn't happen.  I just want all of those adult children to know that YES WE ARE TRYING TO HELP!  Trying to help you get back on your feet, trying to help you find your way with your careers and 'find yourself', trying to help you become stronger in whatever way you need it, trying to show you the way to becoming all that we know you are capable of being, trying to give you direction, trying to give you a safe and warm (no not hellishly hot) haven to feel loved and respected when you need it most.  We love you - that is what parents do - and someday when you have children of your own, you will know the depth of the love you have for your child.  Enjoy the "help".

I think I'm in hell

No, I'm not talking about the fact that I live back at home, although by now we all know that it is an adventure. I'm talking about the fact that it is 2 million degrees in the f***ing house. Just because it is 110 degrees outside and you set the air conditioning at 82 doesn't mean that the house is cool. Moms argument is that it is hot outside so with the air set at 82 it makes the house cold..You have to be kidding me right? It's still 82 degrees INSIDE! Who wants to take a shower and start sweating as soon as they get out? NO ONE! Who wants to lay in bed in just a tank and shorts with no sheets and the fan blasting and still not be able to sleep? AGAIN, NO ONE! And although she may think it's just me being dramatic it's not, everyone that comes over or stays the night agrees with me..my sister, brother-in-law, boyfriend, friends that came on vacation. I know I know here comes her argument, "Well you don't pay any bills". Yes I know I don't pay any bills but come on this s**t has got to stop or we all might melt soon. 

It never stops..the nagging that is

"Clean this, wash that, make your bed". Now I remember why I moved out when I was 18 and went off to school. Sometimes the nagging is like nails on a chalkboard. Don't get me wrong we all know how much I love my mom but seriously, I think she is starting to find things I don't do just so she can nag me and make me do them. First it was to clean up my stuff around the house, then it was wiping down the counters in the bathroom, now she has moved on to my bedroom and b**ching about how I don't make my bed every morning. She even talked about it at dinner with my sister and brother in law when I wasn't there. ( You really care that much that you have to talk about it to other people!?) She doesn't even go in my room so I'm not sure why me not making my bed everyday bothers her. The funniest part of the whole thing is that she says "it's a sense of accomplishment to start the day", this has to be a f***ing joke. By just making my bed you think I have began to accomplish what for the day? NOTHING! I think she is only doing it because she is sad her precious pillows from Pier 1 are on the floor next to my bed and never get to see the top of it. Oh well, if me making my bed will get her off my back I guess I will consider it, that is until she finds something next to nag me about.

But I Don't Wanna!

Oh she lives here alright!  And honestly I love having Nicole home!  But really you can't even make your bed?  Of course I taught her how, what kind of mother do you think I am.  Taught her when she was probably five years old.  Get up and make your bed.  Does so many things for you. Sense of accomplishment to start the day, peace of mind.  Your room is in order transfers to your life is in order.  Not to mention that you sleep better when you climb in a nice neat bed.  She did it for years and years! What happened?? Did I mention that my ten pretty, fluffy pillows from Pier One have been on the floor in a corner of her room since she arrived?  The pillows I took so much time to pick out and arrange on the new bed cover?  Did I mention that?  Well actually she technically makes her bed when she changes her sheets each week but dam those pretty pillows never make it to the top of the bed - haven't seen the light of day in months!  Okay one more thing - keep your bathroom clean, which happens to be the guest bathroom in the hallway.  Don't want people going in there and having your makeup and other personal items strewn around the room.  That's why we have drawers in there. Put your sh.t away. And if you don't mind, I got you some wipes to clean up after yourself in the morning.  Really it's just the small things that make me happy.  Not a lot to ask, at least I don't think so.  The wipes are working out just great!  Bathroom is looking good. Now to work on the bed making. . . I will keep you posted on our (my) progress.

Do I live here, do I not live here?

Alright, I will be the first to admit that this isn't technically my house but I do live here. My mom will be the first to say she enjoys having me home but it is "different". I put different in parenthesis because half the time she loves it, the other half the time I think she wants me to disappear. But lets be real here that isn't happening as quickly as we both would like. The rules of the house are that I have to clean my room and my bathroom once a week which is fine with me, that's what I have always done at all my other houses. There are some things she does that makes me laugh though, like the first week I lived here I would leave my purse in the kitchen ( also the same place she leaves hers, just so we all know the real story ) well one day she had enough of that. She told me from now on I wasn't allowed to leave anything in the kitchen, or around the house for that matter, I had to "clean up after myself" as she put it, but really does she clean up after herself when she leaves her purse in the same spot? NO! That's fine I can live with putting my belongings in my room, I would rather it that way so she doesn't touch my things anyway, but it gets worse. As the week went on I noticed a box of wet wipes in my bathroom under the sink, not really thinking anything of it I left them alone. Only little did I know what was coming next, when we were sitting at dinner one night mom asked if I had starting using the wet wipes, confused about what the f**k they were even for in the first place I said no. She continued to lecture and tell me that the reason she bought them was because she wanted me to wipe down the counters in the bathroom before I leave everyday so that when people come over it doesn't look like I live here. Well s**t if you didn't want it to look like I lived here, why did you let me move back in? I'm just saying.

Where is it all going

Where is it all going - Nicole's stuff that is.  I get it.  As they say trying to cram 10 pounds of stuff into a 2 pound bag.  Yeah like trying to cram an apartment full of stuff - well at least what made it here in one piece but I will get to that in a minute - into one bedroom and bathroom.  While she is moving in and unpacking, I attempt to walk in her room only to find the door blocked with shoes stacked a half mile high.  Why don't you move these away from the door I ask, nicely enough.  Oh I have them organized she says.  Organized??? I can't walk in the darn bedroom without hitting them with the door.  And where is your dog's bed going to go in here, again I ask nicely enough.  I don't know I will figure it out, Nicole replies.  So one day while she is at work, knowing she is tired of unpacking and moving, I went in her room and moved those boxes away from the door.  Now you have to understand she probably has over 35 containers of shoes in there!  So I put all the sneakers on one side and all the shoes on another side.  Organized:). Nice:). Or so I thought!  Ha, she freaked out!  Why did you move my stuff?  I fixed it I told her.  Needless to say she did not look at it that way.  Was a little testy!  Even called her sister to complain.  I don't get it.  So allow me to digress just a minute about this moving thing.  First off she has me ship 17 boxes from Chicago to home.  I paid to ship those boxes.  Most of the boxes showed up completely beat up and busted.  I couldn't understand why until I looked in one box in the garage that had her kitchen appliances in it.  Yes just appliances . . . No bubble wrap around them, no packing paper around them, and not even a single piece of popcorn in the box to prevent the items from slamming against each other!  Just appliances in a box five sizes too big for its items.  So the box showed up with completely busted stuff.  Remind me again - why did I pay to ship those here??  I'm telling ya - what the hell was she thinking?  Did you really think those items would arrive in one piece?  I will tell you where this is going - in the trash.  And she freaks out at me?  Really?

Please don't touch my s**t!

Where oh where do I begin. I am very particular about how things are in my room, my clothes are all color coordinated and all of my shoes are in clear plastic boxes organized by style and what I wear most often. Well now that I have broken down my OCD to you let me explain how I almost lost my s**t the first week I moved home. After about 6 hours of unpacking boxes and organizing my room how I like it, because yes, it is MY room, mom came in and sat on the bed and we were talking.. She noticed that one set of shoe boxes were on one side of the room and the other set on the other side, that's when she asked why I had set it up the way I did. I explained that I put my heels with my Jordans (that's a kind of sneaker for those of you who don't know) because those are the shoes I wear most often and on the other side I put the sneakers that I collect but don't wear. After listening to her go on and on about how I should put all the sneakers together because they are the same I told her to leave my room politely. Little did I know I was going to come home the next day and almost kill her and have a panic attack at the same f*****g time! When I got home from a long day at work, I walked in my room to find that my shoes were no longer in the same spot I had left them in that morning, instead yes, as you probably have already guessed the sneakers were all together and the heels were all together. I just about lost my mind and when I came out in the living room like the exorcist with my head spinning she calmly says "I was only trying to help". Hmmm "Only trying to help? Only trying to help? I told you there was a certain way I liked my things and you changed it all around anyway because you didn't like it. It's not even your F***ING room!!" Now that my head had finally exploded I walked out of the room as calmly as I could (which we all know is not calm at all) saying "Just do me a favor and please don't touch my s**t anymore." I know that it is her house and I need to respect that but do me a favor and respect my room, especially after I have already told you why I do things a certain way! Damn woman don't you listen!

Mother Hen

Ok, I'm the first to admit that I am a BIT of a Mother Hen.  But I don't mean that in a negative way!  In fact when I interviewed for my current employer, I actually gave myself kudos for being a Mother Hen.  I like to take care of people and I like to get things done.  I'm organized and I admit I hound a little bit until you finally agree to fall into line and do what needs to be done.  That being said, my little chick is in need of some Mother Hen time!  Yes, she's been independent for a long time but let's get right down to it, she's back in the nest.  That means, obviously, that she needs my help!  The plan (I think both of ours and not just mine but who knows) is to pay off some small credit card debt and save some money to possibly buy a condo.  Well let's get down to Why we (she) has the credit card debt.  That's what happens when you work part time as an adult!  When Nicole was in Chicago she told us she needed to work part time to put more time into her new business venture.  Can't start up a new business while you are working full time (maybe, maybe not).  All I know is that I have never worked part time at anything.  While in high school I had two jobs.  When I had my family, I worked full time and went to college.  After the girls were grown, I worked full time at the law office, got my real estate license and sold real estate on the weekends, AND worked at Peter's mortgage company doing licensing and auditing, etc., etc.  I know I am dating myself (walking to school up hill both ways with holes in my shoes) but REALLY!  I think the reason Nicole has the small debt that she does is because she was working part time.  Part time, which means you had less money to live on to pay your bills, used your credit cards as a supplmental income and walla here we are!  And yes, so it begins, I will Mother Hen this girl until she gets her droppings together!  Back to work girlfriend! 

It is already starting

This is not how I thought things would be. When I planned to move home all I could imagine was having clean clothes all the time, a fully stocked fridge and delicious home cooked meals, it was going to be like a vacation, boy was I wrong. I hadn't even lived in the house for a full 24 hours when my mom had a plan made. She sat me down and said now that I am home I am REQUIRED to cook dinner once a week for the three of us (not too bad, I am a good cook when I want to be) on my days off I still have to go to work with my dad (b******t, what is the point in having a day off) and last but definitely not least I would be put on a budget. Yes, a budget with my own f*****g money! I love shopping so this was the beginning of a huge reality check setting in. It gets worse... every other Friday when I get paid, she sits me down with my pay check and goes through my bills with me and tells me what to pay when and then gives me an allowance. I am 25 years old getting an allowance of my own money from my mother.

"Act Like a Lady"

"Act like a lady".. If I had a dollar for every time my mom says that to me I would never have to work another day in my life. Dad went away this weekend so it was just the girls, or as mom says "ladies". I am very much a lady when I choose to be, I love wearing heels, dressing cute and being romantic but come on every once in a while someone needs to be put in check and my mouth is the perfect way to do that (or my right hook) but it has been a while since that happened. According to my mom if I curse, that is not acting like a lady, well if she really understood where I came from when I swear to really comes from a good place. I am a very passionate person and I think that when you say "F***" it makes the point come across so much clearer. All weekend every time I cursed came the phrase "act like a lady", I can't tell you how many times I wanted to strangle this woman when she said that to me. I am not always trying to act like a lady, I am caught in the moment and need to express how I feel even if that includes a few "F***" "Ass****" and "B****" words thrown in the mix. She thinks it's trashy but I think it's necessary. So all in all, if you don't like it, I don't care. I say what I want when I want and that is just how I am. I love my mama but if she says it again I might have to take away her blogging privileges.

She is who she is

Okay I just have to say.  I love my Nicole!  She is who she is!  Like her or not.  She says what she thinks.  Maybe too much sometimes but she is honest although sometimes a little too crudely for me. I try and tell her.  Act like a lady.  Hahaha she is quite a lady for sure and I wouldn't change her for a minute - well maybe I would like to add a filter or a little refinement.  I was just going through some old, memorabilia we packed when we moved from Methuen.  She's was getting in fights in grade school.  She always stood up for herself AND her sister.  Still does!   I was reading a letter she wrote to me about six years ago when Peter came out to Arizona for the Superbowl game.  I had recently had a major surgery and was home in Methuen. I got laid off from a man I had worked for twenty years in a very poorly handled way.  Nicole ended her letter with . . . "Hope you feel better and don't worry about Bob, he's an asshole with no balls".  I know I told her no swearing on the blog but I am quoting.  Anyway I was thinking it - she just says it!   OMG made me laugh today so hard.  The girl has so much heart and loves so completely!   If you are lucky enough to know my daughter and she is in your corner - then you will always have her to watch your back.  But get on her bad side (family trait) - you better watch out!  She is who she is and I couldn't love her more.

Mum's Intro

She’s back!  That would be my 25 year old daughter, Nicole.  Let me give you some background.  My husband, Peter and I (Nancy) have been married for 29 years.  We lived most of our lives in Massachusetts but have lived in Arizona for the past five years.  We have two daughters, Samantha, who is newly married to Stu, and Nicole, who is my “baby chick back in the nest”.  This is a blog to which Nicole and I will both contribute.  We have agreed NOT to read each other’s posting so as to give you a raw look at each of our viewpoints on the many adjustments we’ve already begun to make living back in the same house.  Nicole has really been out on her own since graduating high school in Massachusetts.  She moved to Arizona to go to college, or more honestly, to be with her sister, who was going to college in Arizona.  They moved in together and lived together for four years, until Samantha moved to Chicago.  When Nicole graduated from college, she moved to LA to try her hand in the fashion world.  After a year, not liking LA, she was contemplating where to move.  No, she didn’t move back to the nest at that point, instead she moved to Chicago, of course, to be near her sister.  She really finds comfort being near Samantha.   Six months ago, Samantha and Stu moved to California.  Not long after that, Nicole decided she didn’t want to live in Chicago any more either.  No, she didn’t follow Samantha to California this time instead she came home to live with her dad and I in Arizona.  She asked for my help and I'm going to give it to her, like it or not!  hahaha!  Thus the blog begins. 

Just the beginning..

I don’t even know where to begin..I am one of the most independent people you will ever meet but after 6 years of living on my own and racking up a bunch of credit card debit I figured it was time to move home for a little bit and get my life in order. Well, one might think that was a great and responsible idea but if you know me or my parents ( you will learn all about them ) this is beginning to be a lot harder than I imagined. Not necessarily with my dad because he loves the thought of me being back, but my mom is a whole different story. Yes, I will admit I asked her to help me get things on track but I never would have imagined the way that this has started to spiral out of control. She thinks she is being helpful while I think she is being a nagging pain in the you know what. Oh, that’s right.. I am not allowed to swear on “our” blog so when you see a bunch of *** understand that is my way of cursing. The girl with the mouth of a sailor can not only not swear in the house but also is not allowed to swear on her own blog. Well this is just the beginning so stay tuned for the crazy stories I already have in store and I am sure the many more to come.