Living with Parents, Thriving in the Nest!

I am a working adult, single, in my (late) thirties, and am living with my parents. 

I would like to believe that it isn't really an anomaly, in an Asian context, for a child (just slightly above-age) to be living under the same roof with her semi-retired parents, since we are big on filial piety and having a close-knit nuclear family, and the "be independent" and "go fend for yourself" types of parental attitude are less vehemently enacted. 

I may be grossly misrepresenting the truth of the matter for those who may or may not be experiencing the same "housing conditions" as I am, but I am merely speaking from personal observation. 

Living with my parents (even and especially at my age) is a constant act of adjustment, and the gratitude I feel towards their solicitude is not simply post-bad-day sentimentality. In fact, because I am financially independent and get to do whatever I please (a far cry from my teenage years), I am more aware of the little things they do for me despite my being fully capable of taking care of myself. 

Here are the nuggets of my contemplation: 

1. My parents are always going to see me as a child no matter how old I am. 

I feel like a pampered brat whenever my parents go out of their way to make my life comfortable. In big and small ways, they look out for me, often nagging at me to sleep early, to drink more water, and to eat well. Perhaps age is really just a number when it comes to the parenting radar. 

Sometimes, I do take their nagging as an affront to my self-management skills, and when I "retaliate" or "rebel", they will tell me with that expression in their eyes, "it is for your own good". 

While that hackneyed phrase exasperates me, it also makes me think about how my parents' words and actions are always well-intentioned. They will always be my parents and I will always be their child - so no matter how much we age, that reality sticks for life. 

2.  Being so much in-your-face...

Every evening, the familiar flurry of activity assaults my senses the moment I enter the door. Communal living is a thing when there are eight people living under the same roof. We get really close for comfort and the scuffles for the toilet can be real. I also have a really acute sense of smell. 

Living in such close proximities with each other, within firing range, I would say, conflicts are inevitable. Whenever some bickering occurs, my bedroom is my place of retreat but then again, I would still need to come out to use the toilet. Because we are so much "in each other's faces", we do not (manage to) stay angry at each other for long. 

I guess that is the silver lining - we hone our patience by being gracious and kind to each other even when it is difficult. This is how practice makes perfect.

3. ... but then there is "the soup and fruits". 

We can argue and be miffed at each other, but after a day's work, it is still comforting to come back to a place where everyone is so "at home with each other".  And not surprisingly, it is really the little things that make a home a home. 

My mother always saves a bowl of soup for me whenever I come back later than everyone else. It is a non-negotiable that I must drink these bowls of piping hot nourishment to their very last drop because "herbal soup and tonic is good for you". 

Eating fruits is more or less like a family ritual. We sit around at the dinner table every night, absentmindedly chewing on persimmons, apples, oranges, grapes, watermelon... and when they are in season, durians. Family rituals grow on us. When people ask me what I like most about living with my parents, I would say it is the familiar routines. 

4. Knock before you enter!

When we are all under the same roof, there is very little space that is really personal. I sometimes struggle with the lack of privacy - every emotion can be felt keenly by each other whether we wear it on our faces - and it seems that boundaries can sometimes be easily trespassed. 

Yet, it is through the clashes, the disagreements, the subsequent 'conferencing' that we iron out the kinks in our "system of arbitration" and we figure out where to draw the line. If I were not living with my parents, I would have all the physical space to myself, but I would not have imbibed the principles of tolerance, respect and generosity that can only be learnt through living with family. 

5. Lifelong learning 

On a practical note, lifestyle hacks (i.e. doing household chores effectively and efficiently) have to be gleaned from experiential learning. I have mastered some skills, albeit not perfectly, from cooking to washing the dishes and the laundry, to "Marie-Kondo-ing" my bedroom mess. My parents do everything better than I, but I would like think that I am still perfecting my craft of housekeeping.

I am a grown woman, and living with my parents at this stage of my life, where I should have outgrown their necessary provision for me, has given me many privileges and convenience that money cannot buy. 

"Old is Gold" is an adage that rings true and more pronouncedly for me because I am fortunate enough to still thrive in their nest!