Two things in Stuff

These could be two separate entries, but they’re both happening now:

ONE

I told Olsen definitively that I would not pay her rent for her to just live in her own place about 10 miles from here. I explained that having your own apartment is an adult thing and only happens when you are adult enough to afford it. I don’t think she liked the idea that I was saying she isn’t “adult enough” but it’s a true statement. Too many things in her life have been handed to her and she needs to know that people (me) aren’t always going to pay her bills for her.

I know she’d love her own place. What person her age wouldn’t? But maybe she’ll be sufficiently motivated to find a way to make that happen either with working more hours or living with enough roommates to make the situation affordable.

There were a lot of tears. Honest crying mixed with anger. I haven’t seen her cry like that in years and it felt almost awkward to be getting that type of childish reaction from a 19 year old. Inwardly I commented to myself that this tantrum was further proof that she’s not adult enough, but I didn’t say that out loud.

She doesn’t have the perspective I have and there’s no way to give someone perspective that they don’t already have. This is the dilemma of my career too, wanting counsels and sometimes juries to see it my way knowing that they are fundamentally incapable of seeing it my way. But the day will come when Olsen will have moved out and will be struggling financially and she’ll look back gratefully at the days when she lived at home and mom paid her expenses.

I anticipate her doing something obnoxiously rebellious in the next week to show me that she’s pissed off at me, so I’m just waiting for whatever that is.

TWO

Harry came up to me on Friday night and embarrassingly told me that Mercer is stealing her underwear. I looked at her weirdly, not sure if this could really be true but also not imagining this is something that she’d make up.

I asked her why she would say that and she presented compelling evidence in the sense that she’s seen her underwear on the floor in Mercer’s room. I reminded her that Mercer is wearing panties too but she insisted that the underwear was HERS not HIS and I believed she was probably right because it wouldn’t be that hard to tell them apart.

The strict rule in our house is the kids never go into each other’s bedrooms (and especially mine) without permission first. Even with visible evidence, Harry didn’t go into his room and get her underwear because she knew that was against the rules, and she really wanted to make sure to point out to me that she was good about that.

I told her I’d talk to him and then debated all evening with myself how to handle the situation. I finally settled on Saturday morning with the idea that I wouldn’t let myself feel intimidated by talking to my own children, and I knocked on his bedroom door in the morning while he was still in bed. Literally on the floor next to the bed was the pair of Harry’s panties she’d mentioned.

I told him I wanted to ask him about why his sister’s underwear was in his room, and then before he could even respond I told him that he wasn’t in trouble, I just wanted to know what was going on because Harry had noticed them in his room and she didn’t like that.

Such an awkward look on his face and I know he was embarrassed and didn’t want to tell me anything. I’m not so innocent that I couldn’t figure out what a 15 year old boy would be doing with his sister’s dirty underwear, and there was no reason for me to humiliate him further.

I said, “This is what I propose: You’re the one that does the laundry. When you’re in the laundry room, you can do whatever you want in there. Just don’t take them into your room. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s OK?” He asked.

“Of course it’s OK. You aren’t doing anything wrong. But you can understand why it might bother your sisters a little?”

He nodded.

I reached down to grab Harry’s underwear to return it to the laundry, but then though better of touching it and changed my mind.

These aren’t conversations I really ever imagined I’d be having, but part of me thinks there’s going to be a lot more of them in the next few years.