My son moved away after college; Am I his roommate, his friend or his mother?

“Who pays for this?” asked my 22-year-old son when I drove him to the mechanic to pick up his car after an oil change.

“You are,” I said without hesitation.

As I watched him walk into the office after dropping him off, I shook my head in confusion. Why did he ask me who would pay? It was his car, after all, and he had been working full time since he graduated from college that spring and returned home.

However, my husband and I paid for car repairs when he was in college and not working. Come to think of it, he also still had our car insurance. With her entry-level job, it simply made more financial sense than buying her own insurance, allowing her to save more money for her future.

I guess his question about who was paying for that oil change was more of a gray area than I initially thought.

Since my son came home after graduation, I’ve been surprised at how confusing my role as a parent has become.

I play different roles in my son’s life now

Some days we feel like roommates sharing a house. My son comes and goes on his own schedule and entire days can go by without me seeing him.

I find this strange since he lives in his childhood bedroom and I expected our paths to cross daily. Sometimes all I see is indirect evidence that he lives here, like a load of wet laundry left in the dryer or snacks disappearing from the pantry at an alarming rate.

Other times we feel like we’re even. We might be an adult couple catching up after a long day at work, swapping stories about workplace shenanigans, or discussing world events. I love engaging with my son in this capacity, sharing life side by side as an adult, and I know my husband does too. He added our son to his trivia night team at the local pub, where he’s just another teammate. They watch and discuss all kinds of sports, just like any pair of friends would.

Then there are times when I slip back into full parenting mode with my son. I’ve been pestering him for a few months to make a doctor’s appointment. The other day I asked him if he needed more toothpaste, and when he said yes, I bought him some at the store.

I’m still finding my place with my adult son who lives at home

A simple question from him, like what’s for dinner, can trigger an existential crisis. Sure, I’ll feed him, but haven’t I already paid my dues by making dinner for my family every night for 20 years?

My friend told me that she and her husband sometimes eat over the sink now that their kids are grown and moved out of the house. Even though it doesn’t sound gourmet, it seems appealing and liberating to have no obligation to cook dinner. And his story makes me wonder why I haven’t moved on to the next phase of my life yet.

It’s not that living with my son is difficult; my carefree child is a joy to be around. It’s that I’m trying to understand how our lives intersect as adults living in the same house.

I realize that this stage is temporary and that once I adjust to this new normal, he will probably be ready to move out. Then I will miss him, our discussions over dinner, watching him grow into the man he is becoming, and even the load of wet laundry left in the dryer.