I was so relieved when my daughter changed her mind about living on campus. It was all we heard about for months.
“I want to stay in a dorm at Cleveland State. If I can’t, I don’t even want to bother going to college!”
(This isn’t an actual picture of my daughter, by the way. If I used a real photo of her, she would probably kill me while I slept.)
After applying for financial aid, which thankfully paid for the actual education part of things, the reality of the situation finally hit her. (I also think that pooping around strangers played a huge role.)
It turned out that she would have had to take out student loans if she wanted to live on campus, to the tune of $10,000.00. That’s a lot of scratch just to live there, don’t you agree? CSU is located in downtown Cleveland, a 45 minute bus ride from where we live here in our little suburb.
So instead, she is commuting to college three days a week, while also working at a gourmet burger place. She bought herself a nice little used car in order to drive herself to the bus stop in the mornings and to go to work. (And to Walmart. She loves that place for some reason.)
Monday and Friday are her long days, when she is gone from 6am to 10:30pm. She texts me now and then, but I still worry about her being alone in this big ass scary world of ours. My husband and I bought her some mace and I taught her how to kick someone in the package if need be.
But things are so much different now, having a young adult living at home. Completely unknown territory.
For example, I make her pay “rent.” $100.00 a month. I actually feel guilty, but I know that it’s a good way for her to learn responsibility. In exchange for that money, she gets to eat, take a shower, do laundry, use the bathroom and not clean up after herself.
I love her to the moon and back, but getting this kid to do household chores is like trying to get my dog to stop licking herself down there.
It’s frustrating, to say the least. Granted, my daughter is a busy little bee, but she also needs to pull her weight here at home. I am constantly prompting her to clean the kitchen (this has been her job since she was 13.) We give her a reprieve on her long days because obviously she isn’t here, but the other days she has plenty enough time to do it.
I text her.
“Hey, you didn’t clean the kitchen, what’s up with that?”
She texts back.
“Sorry I forgot.”
Well then, I’ll forget to feed you tonight, you little turd.
I wasn’t ready to have a completely empty nest. My heart does a little happy dance when I hear her come home so late at night. (I have special mom hearing.)
She always peeks her head into my room.
‘I’m home,” she says.
“Okay, honey. Good night.”
I roll over and smile to myself.
Now if she could just turn down her music, all would be right in my world.