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My mom is 65 years old, she lives in a two-bedroom apartment, I thought she would help her granddaughter, but she didn’t like it.
You know what they say, “Everything is yours and everything is mine.” But does it fit into this category? mom's apartment? After all, it so happened that our living space often passes from generation to generation. No remodeling, no wiring, no horrible neighbors, no old house? Whatever! Real estate anyway.
Unfortunately, this is the sad truth of life. Young families are forced to look for housing from landlords. But if you can not financially stretch the apartment, you have to contact your parents. There's no other way, no matter how hard you try. Taking a loan will not pay off until old age. To go to work abroad, so curse their own compatriots that, they say, sold out to the West. What other options are there?
Do you think it is normal to kick your own granddaughter out of the apartment, while still pretending to be a victim? So I guess not. And that's what my mom did. And do not write that the age of a woman may be already, maybe the brain is not all right. She is 65 years old and is doing quite well. Even goes to work. But character...
Two years ago, I divorced my husband. I will not write about the reasons, I will only say that everyone remained in his opinion. We exchanged our two-bedroom apartment in the city center for two one-bedroom, however, in simpler areas. I think I was lucky twice with this exchange: first, the apartments were in different areas, which means that I will not see my ex again.
And secondly, the apartment I got was actually quite spacious. At one time, the owners demolished the wall and instead of two small rooms made one. The only thing that is bad is a terrible repair. Furniture, lack of the right number of sockets, and the wall as of cardboard.
Yeah, I forgot to tell you. We lived in this room with my daughter. Since she stayed with me, they stopped communicating with my father. Well, what can I do? There's one room, but it's spacious. We moved the sofas, and there was enough space. I did not reproach my daughter to move to a rented apartment in her 20s. The two of us are more fun, and where will she get the money, working as a cashier?
It was kind of going well. They lived their lives. But here's the news: Nastya, my daughter, is pregnant. From some Pasha, a childhood friend. Not really. At first I secretly rejoiced that my daughter's husband had been found, so she would be protected, married. It's all right. But then it turned out that Pasha this goal is like a falcon. The student himself, studying, working part-time. Promising, perhaps, but now everything is very bad.
There was no money for any other options, so we started living together. I fenced off my part of the room, the young ones my part. Well, that guy was almost always absent. I would come in one day and always look at me with such a pathetic look that I just couldn’t argue with them both. But we had to do something.
This is where my conflict with my mother started. The thing is, she lives 20 minutes away from us. Nice apartment, two-bedroom. She is one of those women who will never call herself a grandmother. Even if they're expecting a great-grandson. That's what it is. We didn’t talk much, and there was a reason. After his father passed away, his mother quickly found a new man. Why would she? Loneliness never threatened her.
Well, we had a conversation. I asked her to take me in so that I could give my one-bedroom to my daughter. Or, conversely, that she moved to me, and the young moved to the “two”. Especially since there will be three of them soon. It's a normal conversation, right? Help your granddaughter, make some room. We're all family.
But she just started yelling at me. Said she finally wanted to live for herself, not for the kids she already had in her liver. We will never get her apartment at all. She now has a loved one and her own life. She asked us not to disturb her. This is a loving grandmother.
I don’t know how, but we need to get out of this mess. Because it's not normal to live in an anthill. That's enough for two of my apartments. Well, for three, with a stretch. But there will also be a small child. That's different. Should I put him in the bathroom? I'm still thinking about all the options, but nothing worthwhile goes into my head. And time is running, and very fast.
Unfortunately, this is the sad truth of life. Young families are forced to look for housing from landlords. But if you can not financially stretch the apartment, you have to contact your parents. There's no other way, no matter how hard you try. Taking a loan will not pay off until old age. To go to work abroad, so curse their own compatriots that, they say, sold out to the West. What other options are there?
Do you think it is normal to kick your own granddaughter out of the apartment, while still pretending to be a victim? So I guess not. And that's what my mom did. And do not write that the age of a woman may be already, maybe the brain is not all right. She is 65 years old and is doing quite well. Even goes to work. But character...
Two years ago, I divorced my husband. I will not write about the reasons, I will only say that everyone remained in his opinion. We exchanged our two-bedroom apartment in the city center for two one-bedroom, however, in simpler areas. I think I was lucky twice with this exchange: first, the apartments were in different areas, which means that I will not see my ex again.
And secondly, the apartment I got was actually quite spacious. At one time, the owners demolished the wall and instead of two small rooms made one. The only thing that is bad is a terrible repair. Furniture, lack of the right number of sockets, and the wall as of cardboard.
Yeah, I forgot to tell you. We lived in this room with my daughter. Since she stayed with me, they stopped communicating with my father. Well, what can I do? There's one room, but it's spacious. We moved the sofas, and there was enough space. I did not reproach my daughter to move to a rented apartment in her 20s. The two of us are more fun, and where will she get the money, working as a cashier?
It was kind of going well. They lived their lives. But here's the news: Nastya, my daughter, is pregnant. From some Pasha, a childhood friend. Not really. At first I secretly rejoiced that my daughter's husband had been found, so she would be protected, married. It's all right. But then it turned out that Pasha this goal is like a falcon. The student himself, studying, working part-time. Promising, perhaps, but now everything is very bad.
There was no money for any other options, so we started living together. I fenced off my part of the room, the young ones my part. Well, that guy was almost always absent. I would come in one day and always look at me with such a pathetic look that I just couldn’t argue with them both. But we had to do something.
This is where my conflict with my mother started. The thing is, she lives 20 minutes away from us. Nice apartment, two-bedroom. She is one of those women who will never call herself a grandmother. Even if they're expecting a great-grandson. That's what it is. We didn’t talk much, and there was a reason. After his father passed away, his mother quickly found a new man. Why would she? Loneliness never threatened her.
Well, we had a conversation. I asked her to take me in so that I could give my one-bedroom to my daughter. Or, conversely, that she moved to me, and the young moved to the “two”. Especially since there will be three of them soon. It's a normal conversation, right? Help your granddaughter, make some room. We're all family.
But she just started yelling at me. Said she finally wanted to live for herself, not for the kids she already had in her liver. We will never get her apartment at all. She now has a loved one and her own life. She asked us not to disturb her. This is a loving grandmother.
I don’t know how, but we need to get out of this mess. Because it's not normal to live in an anthill. That's enough for two of my apartments. Well, for three, with a stretch. But there will also be a small child. That's different. Should I put him in the bathroom? I'm still thinking about all the options, but nothing worthwhile goes into my head. And time is running, and very fast.
When I see that the cleanliness of the washing machine leaves much to be desired, I send there lemon, the most powerful tool.
Shortly before the silver wedding, my husband announced that he was leaving me, bought me a luxury apartment during the divorce, but this is not what I want.