The guilt trip is my mother’s favorite mode of transportation. For years, she told me that the only reason she didn’t have a career was because she was “too busy being a mother.” In reality, she just liked the lifestyle my father provided. When they divorced, she expected me to be her new retirement plan.
The day after my new job as a Regional Manager was announced, she “moved herself” into my spare bedroom. “I’m here!” she announced, throwing her expensive coat on my sofa. “Since you’re making the big bucks now, I can finally relax. Your turn to pay the bills, honey.”
I knew that if I kicked her out, I’d be the “villain” of the family. So, I let her in. I even made her dinner. But I also made a phone call.
The next morning, she ran into my room, pale and trembling. She was holding a clipboard I had left on her nightstand.
“What is this?” she shrieked. “A ‘household contribution schedule’? Six a.m. wake-up calls? Cleaning, laundry, and meal prep for the whole week? And why is there a ‘Job Search Log’ attached to my door?”
I sipped my coffee calmly. “Well, Mom, like you said, you gave up your life for me. So, I figured you missed being a ‘homemaker’ so much that you’d want to do it full-time here. Since I’m paying for your room, board, and health insurance, this is your new job. If the house isn’t spotless and dinner isn’t ready by six, the ’employee’—that’s you—will be evicted for breach of contract.”
“You can’t do this!” she cried. “I’m your mother!”
“And I’m your landlord,” I replied. “You wanted to live off my success? This is what success looks like. It’s hard work. I also took the liberty of sending your resume to five local retail stores. Your first interview is at noon. Better get dressed.”
She lasted exactly forty-eight hours before she “decided” that living with me was “too stressful for her nerves” and moved in with her sister instead. She still calls me ungrateful, but she does it from her own apartment—where she finally has a job.
