Overly, screamingly ultra-independent, I moved out of my parent’s house when I was seventeen years old because I wanted to pay my own way and make my own decisions. Marriage also was tough for me as I was just too independent, unwilling to be so tied down, yet conversely here I am now with 39 demanding children. At least I’m the boss.

I didn’t become a stay-at-home mom until I’d finished my public school career and qualified for my retirement check, a blessing certainly and I’m glad I paid the price.

I am having an increasingly difficult time getting that concept of independence into my children’s brains. Do they think I want to support them forever? They’d still let me be the boss as long as they could live here and allow me to pay the bills, but after age 18 I don’t really want to be the boss, I want to be free again from the responsibilities of them.

What I failed to understand about twenty years ago was that my children are too emotionally stunted by what all has happened to them to immediately become either self-reliant or autonomous. I’m finding it frustrating and I’ve been through this way too many times.

My 18 year old daughter blurted out in alarm, “But I don’t want to grow up.” It’s another rejection to her, a personal affront that hurts so I have to take her feelings into consideration and tread lightly. OK I understand that.

Another son, now 21, is still with me and I’ve seen progress over the last three years in his maturity but he still loses jobs, eats supper here, and doesn’t manage his money that well. Another son, almost 19, is headed back to jail for probation violations, not any part of him wants to change; he sees nothing wrong with a life of crime. I just hung up the phone, shaking my head in abject annoyance at his ridiculous comments.

Today, totally fed up, I asked my 25 year old son to move across the way into a doublewide that I own on our property rather than continue living here in the basement like a troll, coming out blinking in the late afternoon and wondering what there is to eat when I’d already pitched a fit over his unemployment status.

He thinks I’m mean for that. I’d rather be considered mean than be thought of as an enabler. I’m taking a very deep breath and expecting round 6,000 tonight over my stupid rules such as get a job or pay your own bills.