So much for my empty nest!  Just when I was getting used to it being void of offspring, life threw me a curve ball.  A curve ball in the shape of my son, Josh.  Yep, he’s coming home.  He’s quit his job and he’s packing up his things and moving back in.

Though not for long. It’s temporary, he says.  About a month or so. Just until he figures out his next move, and a new career path.  Oh, and, he has his sights set on Chicago. He’s hoping for a fresh start there and I, for one, am rooting for him.

Meet the Boomerang Kid

By moving back in, if only for a short while, Josh is officially becoming another statistic. He is one of tens of thousands of young adults who reach a point in their lives when the best option for them is to move back in with the parental units. And there’s even a name for it, the Boomerang Kids. These homeward bound kids are finding that there really is no place like home…again.

So while, Josh is boomeranging, I have a second chance at bonding time with him.  Last time he lived here was senior year of high school. Everyone knows how kids are at that age, and we certainly know how they can get a bad case of “senioritis,” which for Josh hit somewhere in 9^th grade.

But now he’s older and doesn’t mind spending time with me.  So while he’s making a go of his future, I will be biding time, playing the role of a supportive mother.  Here’s my pledge: I will try not to give unwarranted advice, which, I’m afraid, I’m very good at and have already been doing (much to his chagrin, I suppose).  I will try not to get too stressed or too worried about his future. And I will not coddle or dote on him. Nor will I be a nudge. No way. Instead, I will give him his space and act nonchalant, like he’s just a roommate (and not my son), so that he won’t feel like climbing the walls and screaming, “Leave me alone!”

So, I’m preparing for his arrival.  Which means I have to move most of my things out of his room. The very room that over the last decade has become my workspace, my blogging space and a place for me to scrapbook.

While I’m at it, I have to make room in the house for all of his possessions!  He’s bringing home boatloads of stuff.  It’s amazing how much we can accumulate in just a short time, which in his case is eight years. Eight years of books, magazines, video games, CD’s, DVD’s, not to mention, two guitars, three basketballs and one football.

And if I know my son, he’s packing up all these things in beat up, old boxes and Hefty trash bags, which he’ll scatter all over my humble abode. Well, so much for trying to keep my place semi-organized and tidy. When it comes right down to it, that’s what I’m really dreading: the clutter. Yuck. All that clutter is sure to muddle my brain and get me all discombobulated.

So I’m waiting for his arrival.  Any minute, his car will pull up and the process of unloading will begin.  I’m ready.  Here’s hoping it all works out for him (and for me!). And here’s hoping that no one’s climbing the walls in 30 days.  Yes, it’s off to another adventure!