Group Therapy is a relationship advice column that asks readers to contribute their wisdom. Each week, we offer a problem for you to weigh in on, then publish the most lively responses, with a final word on the matter delivered by our columnist, Lynn Coady.
A reader writes: My 23-year-old son has moved back in with me after a three-year hiatus because of a summer job. He expects me to "ask" before I drink any of the coffee he makes. I don't understand his reasoning; he says it is purely one of politeness. I am supplying his food and a place to live, but he bought the coffee and the maker. What should I do? Your opinions on this would be appreciated.
Give him a bill
Present the fool with a bill for rent, food and (if you let him use your car) transportation. If he fails to pony up, show him the door. Time for a little reality check for your darling boy.
- Peter Huffam, Winnipeg
Do the polite thing
He's absolutely right. If he were a non-family guest in your house who had bought his own food and drink, would you still think it was okay to help yourself without checking first? He and his contributions should be viewed with respect, not because they're "his" but because it really is the polite thing to do.
- Deborah Sudul, Calgary
Stop being a doormat
Oh, I have to laugh at the righteous etiquette of your young man! Mom - stop being a doormat! Tell your kid that he should either ask or assume that you want some coffee - because that is the polite thing to do.
- Maureen Towns, Sherwood Park, Alta.
The Final Word
I have this thing that happens to me whenever I visit my parents, something I have never disclosed to anyone. Today, in the interest of maintaining peace between you and your son, I reveal my shameful secret for all the world's delectation. When I am in the presence of my mother, I sit there waiting to be fed.
It's indefensible, yes. I'll enter this kind of fugue state right around mealtimes and next thing I know my plate is being cleared away and I find myself feebly waving my empty tea cup at her "since you're getting up anyway."
I blame this tendency on what I'll define here as the parent-child default setting. What happens is, get born. Next, your parents feed, house and clothe you and for the most part you don't even notice the great, swirling gyres of hard-won resources funnelling directly into your continued, oblivious well-being.
Then, you leave home, and you start to kind of get it. You eat 7-Eleven burritos for four months straight and realize: This is no good. What my mother made in her kitchen was good. I have a kitchen. Perhaps I could make something good myself. Next thing, you're toting your dirty undies to the laundromat instead of Mom and Pop's, and purchasing your own sheets. The parent-child default gradually resets itself and at last you and your parents can be grown-ups together.
Except you never really can. The original defaults are always there, waiting for the auto-reset to kick in. At 23, your son is past the burrito stage, but still hovering at the precipice of the laundromat (and, god knows, nowhere near buying sheets). What Maureen identifies as his "righteous etiquette" is a symptom of the adult/child twilight in which he currently exists. The grown man wants his meagre property of coffee and pot respected while your baby boy conveniently forgets, as Peter notes, who's fronting him food, bedding, TV and TP.
I don't think Deborah is wrong in counselling respect for the young coffee jockey. But you have every right to ask for the same with regard to your own contributions. Once you point those out, politely of course, it's pretty clear your next coffee should be brought to you in bed.
Lynn Coady is the award-winning author of the novels Strange Heaven and Mean Boy, with another one currently in the oven.
Next week's question
A reader writes: I am in my late 50s, widowed for six years. I was not looking for anyone new, but a year ago a friend introduced me to a widower, who is retired. We are very happy - and about to get married. However, our children (27, 47, 49) are not happy at all. We have been patient; we obtained a prenup and gave them legal reassurance that their estates are secure. Things have improved, but my 27-year-old son, whom I've always been close to, refuses to give me his blessing. Our friends and other family members are happy for us, but my son says it is difficult to see me with a man who's not his father. I'm feeling hurt and fed up. Can you offer any guidance?
Let's hear from you
Do you have an answer to this question or your own dilemma? Weigh in at grouptherapy@globeandmail.com and include your full name and hometown. (We will not print your name if we publish your personal dilemma.)