28

Daughter has a birthday this week.  She will be 28.  Birthdays prompt an existential crisis for her.  "I'm going to be 28 years old.  I should be able to live in my own apartment."  We go through this every year.  I keep reminding her of what needs to happen for her to live independently.  She keeps telling me she's doing better and can handle it. 

Of course, it doesn't help that once again their is changing going on at her group home.  One staff member quit after creating much chaos.  The continuing staff member yells, triggering Daughter's PTSD.  There is also a new staff member, and a new resident moved in this weekend.  Change and Daughter do not get along very well. 

Holy Week is approaching, and I have been in the office the last three Fridays (supposedly my day off).  So Daughter is having an existential crisis and I am lacking in patience.  It is not a good combination, and I have been lacking in patience with her.  Yesterday I tried to remind her of the conversations we had when she turned 18 and when she graduated from high school.  Both times I explained to her that age was just a number, and it didn't mean she was suddenly all grown up.  That's something else that annoys me.  I don't like the word grown-up, as it implies that we reach a point and no longer need to learn and grow.  For people like Daughter, that idea makes accepting limits harder. 

Administrative Assistant and I have been talking recently about how much she has grown and matured in the 4 1/2 years we've been here.  Daughter doesn't recognize that, which is unfortunate.  I keep reminding her, and I continue to hope.  She has now been with me for 25 years.  Next month we'll celebrate the 20th anniversary of the adoption.  I never thought I'd still be parenting this intensely at this point.  Despite the challenges, I'm grateful to be her mom.  It would be nice, though, if her existential crises came during less busy times in the church year.