I’m 27 and I still live with my parents.
Which doesn’t sound all that abnormal, except for when I add in the fact that I’m married.
Yup, my husband and I count mum and dad as our roomies.
After 2 1/2 years of living in Sydney’s trendy inner city as a young, married couple, our bank balance simply couldn’t take it anymore.
Sure, we could eat smashed avocado and feta on soy linseed sourdough toast and drink single origin coffee every weekend, but could we save for a deposit on a home in the Sydney property market?
Hell. No.
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My Dad asked for me and my family to move in with him, husband and 2 daughters included. It was almost a year after my Mum had passed away and he was always over at our rented house, so this was his solution for everyone. He could have asked my single sister but he said he wanted to be part of a family again. He struggled on his pension, so it was a lot easier for him when we moved in, we paid all the bills, apart from council rates, we paid for the food shopping, we also ended up paying off 2 small mortgages for him so that he could buy a van and travel. I also looked after him by cooking, cleaning, he and my hubby did the outdoors stuff! My Dad got sick and wasn't well for quite a while, but I got to be there and look after him. My now 3 daughters got to spend so much time with him and we were all so close. He told me how grateful he was for all that I had done for him and for my Mum, so he was leaving me the house in the Will but I would have to get a small mortgage to give my sister enough to buy her own house!!
By far the best decision I ever made was to moves in with my Dad.
Why do people care so much about who others live with? Not me. We only had a brief period 1950-1990 where young people could get married and buy a home in Sydney but that's all over now. Back to the depression days of sharing a house.