Listen, I try really hard not to be a helicopter mom. I don’t like to hover over my daughter and I like to give her the space she needs to grow and dream and eventually move out of my house and provide me with many grandchildren that I can cuddle and give back to her when they’re loud. It’s important to me to let her make her own decisions and mistakes and adventures.
But sometimes, a mom’s gotta intervene. It’s not hovering. It’s called advocacy.
Here’s the problem, Molar. I get that you need to live in my daughter’s mouth. I understand it’s time and your bags are packed and the moving trucks are basically scheduled, so at this point it would be completely counterproductive to talk you out of moving in.
Can you take it a little slower? Can you maybe buy her dinner first, or perhaps an afternoon matinee? Can you wine and dine her before you just break down the door and leave a mess of cardboard boxes and tears? I get your perspective, I really do. This is your life and her life and you guys have a long future together. But the two of you, man. Your relationship is just…tumultuous.
You must know that your actions cause a ripple effect. Do you know who has to listen to the screaming and crying and fits of rage while you tornado through her life, all thoughtless with no direction? I do. Her father does. The entire neighborhood – at approximately 3am last night and the night before that and the night before that – does. There isn’t a proper dose of medication that will silence that sort of turmoil.
Listen, Molar. She’s in a phase, and I hate to be abrupt, but I don’t foresee you sharing a forever life together. You’re both young, and you’ll have your fun together for oh, 5-6 years before you’ll start to want different things and her tastes will change and suddenly, you’ll have been replaced by something more… permanent.
So here’s my suggestion: take it slow, ease into it. Leave your toothbrush on her sink and get to know each other better. Enjoy some chocolate, feast on oysters. I’ll even pay. But please, Molar. Cool down a bit. No one likes an overzealous tooth.