I have been thinking an awful lot about how different our lives are from how our parents’ were.
When my mom was 21 she had a newborn son and a 32 year old live-in boyfriend, who would eventually become her husband.
When my parents were 24 and 35 they had me, and within that year acquired a house through land contract that was my childhood home.
I’m keep thinking about how I was 3 when my parents were 27 and 38 (I am currently 27).
I have memories of my mother when she was 27, 28, 29, 30.
But somehow she was always older, right?
29 year olds aren’t thinking about what mulch to buy or which flowers are annuals or perennials. They aren’t thinking about new roofs or new siding.
Most of my friends turn 28 this year, myself included.
And if I’m honest, not a single one of us has any real business raising a child right now. Or being responsible for a new furnace, or water heater. Not one of us is prepared to shovel our driveways while we save up for a tractor that can plow them for us. Not one of us is equipped to handle the stress of homeownership as I was raised to understand it.
And I’m speaking for myself here, too.
A few years ago my mom got into a screaming fit with me over how if I wasn’t ready to own a home then I never would be. I thought that was a very unfair assumption. But if I think about it...my mom was already three years comfortable in her home by the time she was 27.
She had taken this brand new 1992 double wide trailer and made it look completely different. She removed the texturized wallpaper from the bathrooms. She removed the thin trim that hides the lines in the drywall and mudded them up to make them look smooth.
My mother took pictures of every decorative overhaul she did in that house. From the pink carpet and straw fans on the walls.
To the white walls with green hanging plants and the hardwood floors and the walk in master bedroom closet.
To adding accent colors to the walls and shelves and family photographs and the walk in closet turned computer room, the two car garage turned fourth bedroom.
To removing most personal decor from the walls, keeping things simple, returning the garage to a two car status and the computer room into a walk in pantry.
My mom is 52 years old and has lived in at least 5 versions of this home already.
I am 27 years old and the idea of owning a home, maintaining a home, managing to redcorate and redesign a home is insane to me. The idea of having a child, or a toddler, at this point in my life seems a task to great to bear.
What happened to us, to our generation, where out fear to jump resulted in us being stagnant.
I told my boyfriend if he doesn’t want me to have a mental breakdown, to make sure I’m not still living in THIS apartment on my 30th birthday.
Which means I, we, have until November 2022 to figure something out.
But even that seems insane.
