I'd like to think this isn't a temper tantrum. More like a frustration flail. Even if I'm not stomping my feet and generally acting like a 12 year old, I *want* to, which makes me feel just as bad.
Last night Mom and Dad came back from their house hunting trip. They've put in an offer and everything seems to be going smoothly so far. They showed me pictures that they took on a second walk through, and a sketch of the layout that my brother did, including dimensions on all the rooms.
Here's where the problem comes in. I hadn't said much about what I wanted this house to be. Even though both Mom and Dad keep saying "this is your house, too. You have a say," I don't feel that way. It's their money, they're the ones who picked it out, it's their house. Mom called from the house hunt in a moment of frustration. Everything they'd looked at was either too small, too expensive, or for some other very practical reason wouldn't work for us. I told her not to worry about me. The only thing I really wants was some living space of my own. A great room, a den, an extra bedroom, whatever. I just wanted some space other than my bedroom that I could relax in. Some place I can watch the TV shows that I love and they aren't interested in. Somewhere I can read or knit or play my Wii. Some place I can have guests when/if I meet new people and would like to invite them over.
The new house seemed to fit the bill. There's a living room in the center of the house and a smaller bonus room off the kitchen. The bonus room has the added benefit of being on the opposite side of the house from the bedrooms, so I won't keep anyone up watching a movie or whatever. Perfect, right? Yeah, except they've already decided to put my couch in the living room with their comfy chairs and the new TV. Mom has been referring to my bonus room as "the keeping room" and is making plans to set it up as some sort of library/sitting room extension of the kitchen. So that means that my portion of "my" house is a 10x12 corner bedroom. And by the way, that room will be furnished with all the crap they don't have any other room for, but can't bear to part with. Yeah. My room.
I know I need to stop fuming like a teenager and sit down and talk to them about all this. And I know this move is hard for them. Between two floors of living space, an attic, and the basement, they have approximately 4,000 square feet of junk. The new house is 1,800 square feet with no attic or basement. Everyone acknowledges that they need to let go of a ton of stuff, but no one is doing anything about it yet. I just went through this myself. I had to be brutal. And believe me, at this moment I'm glad I was, because there really is no room for me in this house they're buying for all of us.