In 2011, at the age of 25.5 years old, I moved out of my mom’s house. I was married with an almost 2 year old, and I’d never been more scared in my entire life. I admit that the first few weeks in our new home were daunting and exciting and definitely eye opening! I was head of a household and didn’t really know how to be!
My mom visited my home last year, and even though it was a rushed visit, it was awesome. The reason? It was the first time that she had done so, and I’d moved out almost 2 years prior. The reason that it took so long for her to come to my new home? Not from a lack of invitations, but because it cemented the fact that I was grown up. Yes yes, I was already married and was a mom too, but whilst living in her home, I wasn’t really ‘grown up.’ Now I had my own home, my own kitchen, my own lounge, my own carport, my own garden! I had pictures on the walls, clothes strewn all over my bedroom, and she couldn’t tell me to tidy any of it up! Well technically she could, but it’s not like she could take away my dessert if I didn’t! I absolutely respected her reason for taking her time in seeing where I now lived, and since that first visit, we’ve had a few more. I still practically live at her house, with almost daily visits after work, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I absolutely love having her in my space, in my home. I am the eldest, the first born, and also my mom’s most dependant child.
I’m grown up mommy, but I’ll still take that hug, that kiss, and I’ll never stop calling you mommy, cause that’s what you are.
Forever and always.