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Guest post: 'I'm married with two children - and I live with my parents'

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JessieMumsnet · 17/07/2014 11:48

When I left home at 19, I never imagined I would be living with my parents again over a decade later. I never considered, either, that I’d be moving back into their home with my husband and two children in tow.

I now know that life doesn’t always go to plan – if it did, I certainly wouldn’t be a card-carrying member of the boomerang generation. Over the last fifteen years I’ve lived in Edinburgh, South-East Asia and New Zealand, and - somehow - I’ve ended up back in London, in the house I grew up in.

Life wasn’t meant to turn out like this. My husband and I bought what we thought was our 'forever home' in New Zealand just before we were married. It was everything we’d always dreamed of – a hundred years old, sprawling and full of character – and we immediately set about making it our own. When our first child was born, we took photos of me walking him through the front door; he had made our house a home.

But then, last January, everything changed: with a one-year old and another baby on the way, the call of family in Britain became too strong. We said goodbye to friends and family in the country we’d lived in for almost a decade, I worked my last day at the newspaper, giving up the middle management job I loved, and we boarded a plane bound for Heathrow. We came home to start our lives again.

That was eighteen months ago, and now, with my daughter about to turn one and my son aged two and a half, we’re no closer to having a home of our own in England. Even with a good deposit from the sale of our house in New Zealand, buying somewhere for our little family to settle down in isn’t an option. We’ve been living on my husband’s income and my small freelance wages – and they don’t add up to enough to service the kind of mortgage we would need. So, instead of chipping away at our savings by paying rent, we have chosen to save our ‘nest-egg’ by staying with mum and dad.

We know owning a home isn’t for everyone, but my husband and I rented for a long time before buying our house in New Zealand, and we loved the freedom it gave us to make our mark on our home. And we’re fortunate to have a deposit, which we’ve worked hard for, and we’d hate to see disappear (but, ironically, with low interest rates, there isn’t really anything other than property that will see our savings grow).

So for the time being, we’re among a growing number of adults who have either moved back home to their parents’ houses, or never left in the first place. Earlier this year, the Office of National Statistics released data showing a large increase in the number of adults living with their parents; in 2013, it numbered 3.3 million UK adults aged 20-34 – that’s 26% of that age group. In line with academic arguments, the ONS blames the economic downturn for this new trend.

It’s certainly been a factor in limiting our options. We choose to live in London because it’s where my family are – our main reason for moving back across the world – as well as the fact my husband’s work is here; and it certainly helps my freelance work. But even in London, jobs are hard to come by. And in the past year, the average price of property in the capital has leapt by more than a quarter – now totalling £400,404.

My parents were delighted to see me return to London after fifteen years of living away, so they welcomed us with open arms. They dote on their only grandchildren, and I’m constantly amazed by their patience and capacity to give. I feel guilty, and sad for them – this isn’t how they should be spending their retirement. Of course, like any family, we have tense moments, and it’s no doubt harder for my husband as he is living with in-laws. But overall, the last eighteen months have been smooth and without disagreement. My parents feel they are in a fortunate position to be able to help us, and we feel unbelievably lucky and grateful for their kindness.

And yet, I wish we were making memories in our own home - scratching height charts under the stairs; painting the kid’s bedrooms in colours they’ll be indifferent to in a year’s time; throwing drunken dinner parties in our own kitchen, and eating food from the pantry I’d stocked myself.

In the same breath, I chide myself for being ungrateful, knowing we don’t deserve it – we haven’t managed to earn our home. Yet.

But when will it happen? Wages aren’t rising with inflation. House prices are still rocketing. The media are now reporting that surveyors believe house prices will fall in London in the next three months, but this still wouldn’t be enough of a game-changer for us. For one thing, when I return to full-time work, we’ll be hit by the added burden of childcare costs. I know my parents will help at least a little, because they want to – but that won’t change me feeling guilty that they can’t enjoy their retirement without the burden of constant house guests, and having to be child-minders.

One day, our little family of four will have our own place. (I hold onto this, when I crave privacy or to organise the kitchen cupboards in my own way.) But this shared living scenario has also taught me that having the people you love around you when you’re bringing up babies is immeasurably wonderful. We may have lost some of our pride and independence, but we have been bringing our children up in a village. My son and daughter don’t know anything different to a life which makes them happy, and the bonds forged between them and their grandparents won’t be broken - and I’ll never forget the support I’ve received whilst at home with a new-born and toddler.

Still, it’s a strange thing, to realise that you’re well into your 30s and can’t find a way to feel like a grown-up. I have a Masters degree and graduate diploma, I have worked non-stop since I was 16 - but somehow, I don’t have a home for me, my husband and my children. It wasn’t meant to be this way, and sadly, when I really look, I can’t see how things are going to change.

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weatherall · 17/07/2014 11:57

We are having to temporarily move in with my dad in 2 months time.

We are going to be homeless when our private lease ends.

We can't afford a deposit for another private rent. We are going to apply for a council house and stay with dad until one comes up.

I would never have thought life would have turned out like this. I have 3 degrees and a successful career in my 20s.

I'm lucky in that I do still own a flat but it is too small for our family to live in. It might be a decade before I will be able to buy a family home and by that time the DCs will be older and we might be looking to downsize!

I just don't think the older generations realise how bad things are for young families in the 21st century.