My little 46 year old

These days, if I were to write a self description for say … a dating site, it would look something like this:

46-year-old unemployed and asset-less man with no transportation. Lives with his mom. Fit … for an 80-year-old. Has a sense of humor.

I can just see the prospects lining up now!

The funny thing is it is basically true, though not quite what it seems. There are reasons for all of the above, which I will not bore anyone with (unless they ask nicely haha). But one of the drawbacks of the situation is that despite the fact that 46 is widely accepted as middle-aged, and for some people downright old, to my mom I am apparently still a little boy.

Guaranteed if I leave the house I will get a whole slew of questions and comments from my mom that basically assume that I have the brain of a 6-year-old child, have never actually lived on my own, and have no physical senses whatsoever. Beyond always asking me if I have everything I need (despite the fact the she likely watched me pocket/pack it), there are always the wonderful mom comments such as “Are you going to where THAT” or “Don’t you need a jacket?” My personal favorite variation of that one is “You need a jacket. I am cold.”

Today, I was getting ready to take pictures of some flowers in the yard, at my mom’s suggestion I might add. Today is one of the days that the landscapers takes care of the condo, so there were people out mowing and weed whacking. Mom, apparently worried that they are all blind and that I am incapable of avoiding someone in a lawn mower, tries to stall me with a “They are mowing the lawn you know.” Maybe she thought I would be so engrossed in my picture-taking that I would be oblivious to the roar of the lawn mower being driven by the blind man.

So for all you mom’s out there, is there actually a point when you recognize that your child is not actually a child anymore? Just curious.