"I've just discovered the downright worst thing about visiting your parents as an adult."

Are you a) an adult? b) independent? c) in possession of a parental figure?

If you said yes to all the above, you are at risk of a special type of condition. If said parental figure is named ‘mum’, there is no hope. It is only a matter of time. Soz. May the force be with you.

Because here I am, picking up the pieces of my former self, recovering from the bizarre state of dysfunction cause by returning to mum’s nest for an extended period in adulthood. Yeah, you know the one.

via GIPHY

Symptoms can include a debilitating reluctance to complete chores; an acute disinterest in preparing dinner before finding yourself foraging the ready-made meals aisle; a fear of choosing a hairstyle, outfit or doughnut that will disapprove; a reignited addiction to 60s/70s/80s music; stupid levels of angst at spending only your own money; a new nightly shiraz habit. Oh and moaning. Non-stop. Pray for your friendships.

The Post Parental Home Visit syndrome** kicks in immediately after your stay and manifests itself like the post holiday blues.

(**I obviously made this up. But the struggle is as real as Kanye. So. Real.)

via GIPHY

But here’s the thing. Travel doesn’t provide all the creature comforts the nest offers: a full pantry, an endless stock of shampoo, tampons and toilet paper, a personal driver, hugs on tap, laundered and ironed clothes, your favourite meals, daily naps, every single TV channel, and you could misplace your wallet for a couple of days and it wouldn’t matter because half the time mum just swats away your cash.

You’ve basically popped the ’17-again’ pill. And it’s got a crappy come-down.

via GIPHY

Since moving out seven years ago, I’ve seen the fam who live overseas about twice a year at most, largely for short stints. So I booked in three weeks, figuring we were well overdue for some old-fashioned ~bonding~.

And boy did I get my fuzzy wuzzy quality time. Lots of it.

When it comes to my mum, no one is as quick to point out my shortcomings, from my fringe (too young) to my tidying (too loud).

But nobody is more willing to prepare a stunning dinner table spread, no one is as quick to my aid with remedies, no one is stronger, sassier, wiser.

And like most mums, she doesn't hesitate to remind you of that when you return home.

Watch Mia and her mum talk burning bras, lipstick and hairy armpits. Post continues after video...

In the end it just becomes somewhat easier to morph into your adolescent self rather than remain a stranger in your parents' home. Adapt to the habits of the natives or there will be blood. (Hint: it won't be theirs.)

So my capacity to make decisions went AWOL. I regressed to my lazy AF teenage me when all I knew to cook was fried eggs and packet mix brownies. I rediscovered all that chill I lost when utilities bills started landing in my mailbox with my name on them. I'm legit surprised I can still tie my own shoelaces.

via GIPHY

Of course this won’t be everybody’s experience.

I know some people go back home and have an entire list of chores to tick off like they never left. But I have a sneaking suspicion that parents whose children live more than an hour of travel away try to make their stay as comfy as possible to trick them into coming back.

But guys, it's going to be OK.

The PPHV state of being is best described by Britney Spears: not a girl, not yet a woman. And as Brit explains - all you need is time.

The ticking clock is the cure.

Because my laundry isn’t about to wash itself.

So as the pile rises with every passing day, my internal pining for my mum grows louder. But I know I'm so very close to fully mutating into my usual parent-free self -- because I'm almost out of clean undies and my appetite for supermarket soup is dangerously low.