Moving Out, Moving On

There's been a whole lot of changes in my life since I graduated in December but none so great as the recent move my three oldest children made. That's right — they moved out. And not so much by choice, mind you.

I guess I just got really tired (a gross understatement) of picking up after them and nagging them to get off their asses. I got tired of them being so pathetically apathetic about their life direction, and the way their incessant bickering drained my energy. I got tired of not wanting to go home and dealing with an inevitable conflict between or with them. Day in and day out, two of them did absolutely nothing productive except sleep in till the sun went down, then stay up till the sun came up ... "to look for jobs on the Internet," they'd say, or play video games, watch movies they'd already seen or hang out with friends.

To say that Jennifer actually looked for a job would be a stretch. She never applied for one either. Friends invited her to drop by to fill out an application and they'd guarantee her hire on the spot, but she wouldn't even make the effort to get to a prospective employer's door, let alone submit an application. Several times she asked to "borrow" money so she could buy more minutes for her phone or go to the movies.

"How will you pay me back without a job?" I'd ask.

"I'll do some work for you," she said.

"No thanks," I countered. I wasn't about to become this kid's employer.

After repeatedly coming home to a kitchen piled high with dirty dishes, a garbage can overflowing with trash, empty boxes and containers in my pantry, and a mess in every room, I issued a 30-day notice of eviction.

"Living in my home is no longer an option," I wrote. I expressed my love, disappointment and heartache. They knew better than to challenge me.

That's when Estephan Espinoza — a long-time family friend — made a quick phone call and immediately got Jenny a job waitressing and delivering room service at the local Holiday Inn. She never tried to find a ride to work and back, and she depended primarily on me, Dane, her sister or Estephan for transportation to and from work, despite the fact that her hours often conflicted with everyone else's work schedule. Except for Hännah and Chris, she didn't know anyone with whom she could share an apartment, and Hännah didn't want to live with either of her siblings.

Christopher couldn't quite make up his mind about what to do with his life. He moved to Eaton Rapids to live with that same long-time family friend, Estephan. Stephan got him a job, too, installing doors on Cadillac Escalades. He made sure they were both scheduled to work the same hours so Ciffer (pronounced Kiffer) wouldn't want for a ride. He lasted all of four days before he got canned for incorrectly installing a part on a mirror and failing to include a trim piece on one of his doors — mistakes that cost his employer $8,000 to correct.

"He's a hard worker; we've never seen anyone work so hard. And he's a fast worker, but he made two costly mistakes," they told Stephan.

And I'll be the first to admit that Hännah worked very hard to be the best she could possibly be at her job as a waitress. But instead of maximizing any opportunity to earn a ton of money (and pay off an fairly heavy debt load) by racking up some hours, she seemed content to pick and choose from available work hours or find someone to cover her shift so she could accommodate an increasingly busy social schedule. For the most part, she came and went as she pleased — spending the night at a girlfriends' or her boyfriend's and coming home only to take showers, borrow my toiletries and makeup, eat dinner, do laundry and inflict her hormonal rage upon the rest of us. She made sundry excuses for why she didn't or couldn't quite complete that job application at Dart Container or Delta Dental for a full-time job with benefits and a retirement plan ... and the promise of a future of self-sufficiency.

Theirs is certainly not my life, I know, but their passive attempt at growing up had a significant impact on my quality of life, and they set an unacceptable example for their youngest sibling, Sachi. And being the loving mother that I am, I believed it was my parental obligation and perogative to summarily evict them all. But that's my story, of course. They'd tell you I'm nothing but an uncaring, unfit bitch of a mother — and they're certainly entitled to their opinions. That doesn't change the fact that this is my home or that my husband and I have every right to maintain some control therein.

In fact, since Day 1, I've made the following clear:

Rule No. 1: They would absolutely graduate from high school or they would not reside in my home. Thankfully, they did — but just barely. It took Chris an extra semester and Jennifer an extra trimester to complete their graduation requirements. Hännah was at risk of having to repeat a semester because she decided, out of the blue, not to show up for a final exam. No, it wasn't an oversight or an accident, like forgetting the exam date, time or place, or sleeping through the alarm. She intentionally failed to show up — she decided she just didn't feel like taking the final. Her teacher called and asked me to relay to her the opportunity for a second chance to take the exam. In an unusual moment of genius, Hännah then decided to take her teacher up on that second chance. Each of my children graduated with GPAs under 2.0 ... but we don't talk too much about it.

Rule No. 2: They would need to obey the rules of our home: Everyone was expected to contribute to the smooth operation of the household — which meant washing dishes, keeping tidy rooms, picking up after themselves, helping with indoor and outdoor chores; every child — despite their age — is required to be home by midnight if they were under 18 and 1 a.m. if they were older; there would be no guests allowed in the home when parents were absent; they would repair or replace anything they broke; they would not be allowed to swear in our home or presence; individuals of the opposite sex would not be allowed to spend the night with them; as soon as the law permitted they would either attend school or work full time or a combination of both; they would be required to save money for future needs and expenses and pay $50 a month for room and board; they would set up a payment plan for debts owed their parents for long-distance and cell-phone abuses, damage to our property (doors, walls, appliances) and personal belongings (laptops), personal loans we'd given them, legal expenses for court costs and citations. If any of our rules were followed, it was a rarity, and of the thousands of dollars we were owed, we probably saw a total of $150 over the span of several years.

Rule No. 3: In order to conserve energy they were expected to take showers instead of bathe and wash a full load of laundry instead of a couple of items of clothing at a time.

Other than us parents, no one helped with dishes. No one took out the trash. They all did their own laundry, which was a good thing, but some repeatedly washed one t-shirt; no one got a job before the age of 18. Two summers ago when Dane and I went to Colorado, Hännah had her boyfriend and a bunch of his friends — all stoned and/or drunk — over; Chris and his friends got in a fight with some boys driving by; all three of our vehicles sustained some major damage, but no one knew anything about it. My house stunk of cigarettes, and beer bottles were strewn across the garage. Neighbors called complaining of loud noises and music in the wee hours of the morning. Not one of my children owned up to these allegations. My kids have flat-out lied to my face and turned around and accused me of lying and failing to understand them or be interested in them. I am blamed for every terrible thing that has ever happened to them. I am repeatedly criticized for decisions I make, the way I act, the way I talk, the way I live, where I live, where I work, who my friends are. They tell me I'm unfair for allowing their 11-year-old sister to continue to live at home while I "kick" them out. "Who the hell do you think you are?" they've demanded.

I gave my children options — follow my rules or find somewhere else to live. And after years of abuse, I reached the end of my rope. I've done my best as a mother, and it has never been good enough.

Jenny called her father and told his entire family that I'd kicked them out and refused to discuss it further. She quit her job at the Holiday Inn and moved back to Pennsylvania to live with her Aunt Patty. Based on Aunt Patty's outright refusal to make eye contact with or speak to me, I'll assume that she disapproves. Sure, I'm angry about it; I'm even very hurt by it, but all I can say is, "Whatever."

Ciffer asked me to buy him a one-way ticket back to Boston so he could "see about a girl" he loves. We talked at great length about it, and he seemed pretty serious about wanting to make it work with her and getting a job out East so they can rent an apartment together. Sophia (the girl) said her parents promised to help them out. And she said she really loves him. Though I don't think they stand a chance in hell, I bought him a bus ticket to Detroit International Airport, a plane ticket to Boston, another bus ticket to New York where Sophia is taking classes this semester, a brand-new overcoat, a new pair of jeans, and I gave him $100. He was grateful, called to let me know he'd arrived safely, and will likely call again. I promised I wouldn't say, "I told you so," if things don't work out.

Hännah moved in with Audrey, my friend Connie's daughter. They are splitting rent of $570 on a studio (read: one-room) apartment, sharing groceries (and clothes, apparently), and Audrey is giving Hännah a ride to work whenever possible. Hännah discovered that Audrey is prone to a messy lifestyle, lying, and eating more than her fair share of food (including leftovers Hännah had paid for and hoped to eat for lunch or dinner at a later date), and that certain items of clothing tend to go missing. In addition, Audrey smokes pot pretty regularly — and quit her job at the auto dealership without notice to accept one from a guy who had a crush on her and guaranteed she'd make $6,000 a day, except that she didn't make a penny and now she is unemployed, broke and unable to make rent (so Hännah ended up paying for the whole thing).

I feel badly. Truly I do. Not so much because they're being forced to make some adult decisions and learn about life through the school of hard knocks, but because they still really don't get it. I'm hoping they will — I'm hoping they'll recognize that our home truly was a home — not perfect by any means — but a warm place where people truly cared about them and loved them. I hope they'll grow to understand that I love them, despite the fact that I stopped catering to their every whim, refused to give them money, imposed curfews and rules, made them contribute to the household, asked them to conserve electricity and water, held them accountable, demanded that they be educated, productive and self-sufficient individuals.

I want them to be happy, but not at the expense of everyone else's happiness. The world does not revolve around them, even though my world did. And they have God-given talents that they need to develop and put to good use. I don't care if they never forgive me for forcing these hard changes on them; I don't care if they forever perceive my actions as lacking in love. If they can grow up and overcome the challenges life will surely deal them, if they can find happiness and take care of themselves, I will bear and endure this burden and pain.

OK. So I painted a really ugly picture of my oldest children. The fact is, they are beautiful creatures, inside and out. They have had their share of ups and downs, heart-wrenching pain and sadness. I will always feel terribly guilty about divorcing their father and not being a bigger part of their lives and upbringing. But I did the best I could, and I never gave up, never abandoned them and never put anything or anyone else before them — ever. I won't allow them to blame others for the choices they've made or their self-imposed hardships. I've stood up for them when they were wronged. I will always demand that they learn to positively resolve their differences, to be honest and trusting people, overcome obstacles, stop making lame excuses and never give up on the opportunity to make a positive difference in their lives and the lives of other.

I wanted to write this blog today to get these things off my chest.