Whenever I tell people that I still enjoy living with my parents, I’m often met with confused looks. And I get it.
I’ve been married for over five years. I have a child of my own. And my husband and I, a year ago, earned the privilege of becoming deeply in debt as new homeowners in Singapore (a real milestone).
There are many perks to staying in our own place for the past year. Despite them, my parents’ nest still feels incredibly cosy – I like being around them, knowing they’re just in the next room.
With new household trends shaping Singapore and the increase of one-person households, I’m aware that this sentiment puts me in the minority.
We’ve been taught that adulthood is defined by leaving the nest. Independence is often framed as paying your own bills, running your own place, and claiming a space that is entirely yours.
Many people genuinely flourish this way. For some, distance makes it easier for them to relate to each other with more grace and empathy.
Me, though? I’m happy to know I still have a place in my parents’ home.
The most obvious perk of living with my parents is the shared costs. We split bills, take turns buying dinner, and share the cost of household items.
Living in a multigenerational home comes with the perk of being able to rely on others and sharing the burden of household tasks. (Photo: iStock/simon2579)
Beyond easing the strain on my wallet, I lean on my parents in ways that lighten the daily mental load of running a household – remembering events we need to attend, caring for my toddler when work demands more of me, sharing cooking tasks, doing the laundry, and answering the eternal question of what to eat for dinner.
That shared responsibility is what makes the space feel comfortable rather than crowded.
In my parents’ home, I don’t need to tiptoe around anyone. I can express my needs and ask for help without fear of resentment or judgment. I am trusted to make decisions as an adult.
But I’m aware that I’m in a privileged position. My parents are healthy and able. The house is large enough for our multigenerational family. My husband and I get along well with my parents. And we respect each other’s boundaries.
I’m also aware that there are others for whom living with parents isn’t an ideal choice. They may have to do so because of finances, caregiving, or other responsibilities.
Even siblings can feel differently. My brother was raised by the same two people, but is more than happy to have his own place as a single adult.
For me, this arrangement makes sense. It makes me feel at ease, safe, and certain that I belong.
Having my mum around means having someone I can confide in. We disagree a lot, but being able to get her perspectives on issues still matters to me, even if it means having to hear hard truths about why I need to let go of certain friends or how to navigate complicated family situations.
My dad may not speak as candidly with me, but I know I can always trust and rely on him to be there for me.
And yes, there is the occasional chiding – an inescapable hallmark of any Asian household – but my parents’ playful jabs at, for instance, my inability to reach their standards of neatness, rarely make me feel like I’m failing at adulthood. More often, these remind me that I’m simply moving through life at my own pace.
That reliance goes both ways. My parents depend on my husband and me, too. We’re right there with them to help with tech issues, manage online bills, navigate medical appointments, fix the car, and even kill cockroaches. We’re there to hold my parents’ hands, sometimes literally, through everyday hassles.
In a multigenerational household, the adult children are around to help their parents with tasks like figuring out a tech app or even just killing cockroaches. (Photo: iStock/simon2579)
This sense of shared responsibility, of being part of a trusted communal unit, is something I value deeply and am incredibly grateful for.
There’s also comfort in being surrounded by people who make me feel seen and understood – who know my rhythms, accept my quirks, and handle any disagreements we have without long-lasting resentment.
Staying close and relying on my parents doesn’t make me any less mature. If anything, it grounds me – as a daughter, a wife, and now a mother – in the very space that first taught me what support looks like.
Still, as anyone would expect, living with one’s parents isn’t always smooth.
I don’t have my own space. And as emotionally safe and trusted as I feel, the dynamics of parent-child and parent–son-in-law relationships never fully disappear. Even when my needs are considered, there is still an underlying understanding that my parents’ say carries the final weight.
My parents “own” most things, even if they didn’t pay for them. The television runs on their Netflix shows and YouTube algorithms. The car moves on their schedule. The kitchen stove follows their cooking rhythms and food cravings.
And then there’s the added complexity of navigating these dynamics with my husband.
When we have heated discussions as a couple, I have to do so carefully in a way that doesn’t shame either of us. I can’t watch just any programme in the living room. I share bathrooms. My bedroom door is almost always open.
Living with my parents also means living with their idiosyncrasies.
It’s doing the mental gymnastics of figuring out when my father is serious and when he is teasing, and choosing to believe he means well even when his words sting. It’s learning the different ways my mother asks for and expects help, even when she isn’t always clear about what she needs.
It’s also about being in the middle of an online work meeting and having my father knock on my door to ask for help deciphering an email. It’s wanting to unwind after a long day, but having to hear – and manage – my parents' bickering. It’s being tired and delaying finishing up my chores, and feeling both irritated and guilty when called out for it.
Being in the same household as your parents can also lead to friction and resentment. (Photo: iStock/Krisada Tepkulmanont)
Sometimes, I see how all this navigating makes my husband want to tear his hair out – it is his in-laws’ home, after all. He would like to relax a little more, to not always feel like he needs to watch his tone or explain his routines.
That’s where our own space comes in. Another home where he and I can retreat to, let loose and be more of ourselves, while we figure out how and when we’ll eventually move out.
But living with my parents has also taught him what showing up for family can look like – sharing responsibilities, stepping in when help is needed, and staying even when it would be easier to leave.
The inconveniences are part of the reality we have both learnt to accept as the price of having a village. For us, the lack of space and occasional discomfort are trade-offs we’re willing to make for the trust, care and support that come with staying close to my parents.
We often say it takes a village to raise a child. I believe it takes a village to live.
I am not an island. I rely on the people around me, just as they rely on me. Being a “villager” forces me to confront my own flaws. It asks me to be more considerate, more generous, more patient, and more forgiving.
It reminds me that if I want grace extended to me – for my impatience, my missteps, my many imperfections – I must extend the same grace to others, too.
So yes, at my parents’, I may not have my own space to do everything I want. But I have them – people who have always had my back, and now my husband’s and my son’s too.
There will come a time when I leave this nest for good and will not have to shuttle back and forth from their place to mine. By then, I can allow my parents to finally have their own space after nearly three decades.
And I’ll remember how happy and content I am here, knowing that I am surrounded by people I can rely on, and who can rely on me in return, and that they’re just in the next room.
CNA Women is a section on CNA Lifestyle that seeks to inform, empower and inspire the modern woman. If you have women-related news, issues and ideas to share with us, email CNAWomen [at] mediacorp.com.sg.
Continue reading...
I’ve been married for over five years. I have a child of my own. And my husband and I, a year ago, earned the privilege of becoming deeply in debt as new homeowners in Singapore (a real milestone).
There are many perks to staying in our own place for the past year. Despite them, my parents’ nest still feels incredibly cosy – I like being around them, knowing they’re just in the next room.
With new household trends shaping Singapore and the increase of one-person households, I’m aware that this sentiment puts me in the minority.
We’ve been taught that adulthood is defined by leaving the nest. Independence is often framed as paying your own bills, running your own place, and claiming a space that is entirely yours.
Many people genuinely flourish this way. For some, distance makes it easier for them to relate to each other with more grace and empathy.
Me, though? I’m happy to know I still have a place in my parents’ home.
SHARING IS CARING
The most obvious perk of living with my parents is the shared costs. We split bills, take turns buying dinner, and share the cost of household items.
Living in a multigenerational home comes with the perk of being able to rely on others and sharing the burden of household tasks. (Photo: iStock/simon2579)
Beyond easing the strain on my wallet, I lean on my parents in ways that lighten the daily mental load of running a household – remembering events we need to attend, caring for my toddler when work demands more of me, sharing cooking tasks, doing the laundry, and answering the eternal question of what to eat for dinner.
That shared responsibility is what makes the space feel comfortable rather than crowded.
In my parents’ home, I don’t need to tiptoe around anyone. I can express my needs and ask for help without fear of resentment or judgment. I am trusted to make decisions as an adult.
But I’m aware that I’m in a privileged position. My parents are healthy and able. The house is large enough for our multigenerational family. My husband and I get along well with my parents. And we respect each other’s boundaries.
I’m also aware that there are others for whom living with parents isn’t an ideal choice. They may have to do so because of finances, caregiving, or other responsibilities.
Even siblings can feel differently. My brother was raised by the same two people, but is more than happy to have his own place as a single adult.
For me, this arrangement makes sense. It makes me feel at ease, safe, and certain that I belong.
Having my mum around means having someone I can confide in. We disagree a lot, but being able to get her perspectives on issues still matters to me, even if it means having to hear hard truths about why I need to let go of certain friends or how to navigate complicated family situations.
My dad may not speak as candidly with me, but I know I can always trust and rely on him to be there for me.
And yes, there is the occasional chiding – an inescapable hallmark of any Asian household – but my parents’ playful jabs at, for instance, my inability to reach their standards of neatness, rarely make me feel like I’m failing at adulthood. More often, these remind me that I’m simply moving through life at my own pace.
That reliance goes both ways. My parents depend on my husband and me, too. We’re right there with them to help with tech issues, manage online bills, navigate medical appointments, fix the car, and even kill cockroaches. We’re there to hold my parents’ hands, sometimes literally, through everyday hassles.
In a multigenerational household, the adult children are around to help their parents with tasks like figuring out a tech app or even just killing cockroaches. (Photo: iStock/simon2579)
This sense of shared responsibility, of being part of a trusted communal unit, is something I value deeply and am incredibly grateful for.
There’s also comfort in being surrounded by people who make me feel seen and understood – who know my rhythms, accept my quirks, and handle any disagreements we have without long-lasting resentment.
Staying close and relying on my parents doesn’t make me any less mature. If anything, it grounds me – as a daughter, a wife, and now a mother – in the very space that first taught me what support looks like.
BEING CONTENT WITH THE INCONVENIENCES
Still, as anyone would expect, living with one’s parents isn’t always smooth.
I don’t have my own space. And as emotionally safe and trusted as I feel, the dynamics of parent-child and parent–son-in-law relationships never fully disappear. Even when my needs are considered, there is still an underlying understanding that my parents’ say carries the final weight.
My parents “own” most things, even if they didn’t pay for them. The television runs on their Netflix shows and YouTube algorithms. The car moves on their schedule. The kitchen stove follows their cooking rhythms and food cravings.
And then there’s the added complexity of navigating these dynamics with my husband.
When we have heated discussions as a couple, I have to do so carefully in a way that doesn’t shame either of us. I can’t watch just any programme in the living room. I share bathrooms. My bedroom door is almost always open.
Living with my parents also means living with their idiosyncrasies.
It’s doing the mental gymnastics of figuring out when my father is serious and when he is teasing, and choosing to believe he means well even when his words sting. It’s learning the different ways my mother asks for and expects help, even when she isn’t always clear about what she needs.
It’s also about being in the middle of an online work meeting and having my father knock on my door to ask for help deciphering an email. It’s wanting to unwind after a long day, but having to hear – and manage – my parents' bickering. It’s being tired and delaying finishing up my chores, and feeling both irritated and guilty when called out for it.
Being in the same household as your parents can also lead to friction and resentment. (Photo: iStock/Krisada Tepkulmanont)
Sometimes, I see how all this navigating makes my husband want to tear his hair out – it is his in-laws’ home, after all. He would like to relax a little more, to not always feel like he needs to watch his tone or explain his routines.
That’s where our own space comes in. Another home where he and I can retreat to, let loose and be more of ourselves, while we figure out how and when we’ll eventually move out.
But living with my parents has also taught him what showing up for family can look like – sharing responsibilities, stepping in when help is needed, and staying even when it would be easier to leave.
The inconveniences are part of the reality we have both learnt to accept as the price of having a village. For us, the lack of space and occasional discomfort are trade-offs we’re willing to make for the trust, care and support that come with staying close to my parents.
We often say it takes a village to raise a child. I believe it takes a village to live.
I am not an island. I rely on the people around me, just as they rely on me. Being a “villager” forces me to confront my own flaws. It asks me to be more considerate, more generous, more patient, and more forgiving.
It reminds me that if I want grace extended to me – for my impatience, my missteps, my many imperfections – I must extend the same grace to others, too.
So yes, at my parents’, I may not have my own space to do everything I want. But I have them – people who have always had my back, and now my husband’s and my son’s too.
There will come a time when I leave this nest for good and will not have to shuttle back and forth from their place to mine. By then, I can allow my parents to finally have their own space after nearly three decades.
And I’ll remember how happy and content I am here, knowing that I am surrounded by people I can rely on, and who can rely on me in return, and that they’re just in the next room.
CNA Women is a section on CNA Lifestyle that seeks to inform, empower and inspire the modern woman. If you have women-related news, issues and ideas to share with us, email CNAWomen [at] mediacorp.com.sg.
Continue reading...