When I was growing up, Mum made her rules clear. If we ever objected to her rules she’d offer her reasoning although, sometimes that reasoning was ‘because I said so’. She’d then follow that up with ‘if you still don’t agree, you can do what you like when you’re an adult and have your own home’.
And as an aside, well done Mum for having the foresight to add the ‘have your own home’ disclaimer, accurately anticipating I would still be living at home into adulthood.
Of course, now that I am an adult (mostly) and have my own home, sometimes I curse owning the rule book. When Mum had it, it was essentially a list of behavioural expectations. Now that the onus is on me, they’re more like suggestions. I probably should go for a walk. We probably shouldn’t watch TV during dinner. I probably shouldn’t finish off the ice cream. I probably shouldn’t stay up this late on a work night.
On the plus side, if I’m having these internal monologues I guess I’m a responsible adult.
Metaphorically speaking, how is your rule book?
Did you take the family rule book with you when you left home?
Do you regret letting some rules go?