My Son Brought His Girlfriend to Live in Our Flat and I Have No Idea How to Get Her to Leave

Only in the privacy of these diary pages could I admit such things as Im about to write today. I am filled to the brim with frustration, and I cant keep it to myself any longer. Perhaps Ill be judged, but I hope mothers whove watched their children suddenly become adults will understand.

You bring a child into the world, raise him, separate from his father because you simply cant stand each other, do your best for him so he never feels the sting of a broken home, juggle two jobs, rush home to cook as if theres yet another shift waiting for you at the stove, buy all the latest gadgets, pay for his education, and then

Mum, Charlotte is going to live with us.

Who, precisely? In our little flat on Grosvenor Road? Is this girl moving into my sons room? Will she be joining us for meals? Will she toss her laundry in with ours? Or do we now have two ladies of the house?

My son beamed at me with such joy when he shared the news, expecting me to smile, jump up with excitement, and perhaps dash off to clear out the wardrobe for Charlotte.

Shes a lovely girl, admittedly, but that doesnt mean Im delighted about having someone else living under our roof. If theyre adults now, let them apply for a mortgage or rent a place of their own! Whats all this nonsense about saving money by staying here? Surely my peace of mind is worth more than a few extra pounds?

Still, I let the girl in. After all, my son is entitled to the flat as much as I am, and if this means he brings someone home, so be it. Im not being entirely honestI promised myself to tell the truth in these pages. My friends had strong opinions about it too: Arent you considering your sons happiness? What sort of mother are you?

These days, coming home irritates me before Ive even got through the door. Shoes everywhere in the hallway, the cooker covered in splattersanother clear sign that Charlottes been cooking. And what if shes wasted the ingredients I just bought? Its not that I begrudge the expense. But what about running out of flour just as you need it, or the endless queues for the bathroom?

Ill admit itI want Charlotte out of my flat. I dont need another housekeeper or extra company.

Then a mischievous thought crossed my mind: perhaps I should bring home a gentleman friend! After all the years I spent caring for my son in secret, never revealing my own romantic life, why shouldnt I shake things up a bit? Hes got his own living space, but how about letting a chap stroll in with a suitcase, and see how we all manage squeezed into 44.2 square metres?

This is the sort of rambling letter I received today, and as a father to a young son myself, its hard to picture being in the senders shoes. Still, I wonder what others think.

What would you do? Have your children reached an age where youve faced something similar? Could you get along with your childs partner? Does a mother have the right to ask Charlotte to move out? These are the questions we face as our children growand if Ive learned one thing, its that no matter how much you give, letting go never really gets easier.