||[Jan. 3rd, 2011|10:04 am]
Don't get me wrong, I love my Mom. And feel very fortunate that she's still in my life. And I know that when she makes comments about my weight, or career choice, or fashion choice, or my dangerous lack of lipstick on the journey between the front door of the house and the safety of the car interior, where who KNOWS how many paparazzi are lurking, waiting to get one of those tabloid pictures of my true face REVEALED...well, I know that those comments are a behavioral or genetic legacy from her own mother. Who probably got the habit from her mother before her. And I have no doubt that had I had a daughter, I would be wielding the same psyche scythe. Although my mother is much kinder, gentler, less scathing than her own mother and I think I might even have been able to tamp it down a bit more. |
I have a couple of friends that I sometimes reach out to, after spending any length of time with my mom -- and they return the favor -- trading "Okay, you're not going to believe what she said THIS time" and "Guess how many minutes it took her to bring up X". The circle has shrunk a bit, as some of my friends have lost their moms. Which makes me sad. Especially since I know the clock is ticking for me and my mom and someday I'll be drying my eyes and saying "Well, at least I won't have to hear about the goddamned lipstick again" which some people will find cold, but it's what we DO in my family.
In the meantime, though, I'm cherishing this:
Because thankfully, no matter what my mom says to me that's accidentally hurtful, it will NEVER be quite like that. I'm also going to try to model my behavior after the target, er, daughter, in being such a good sport about it.
Oh gracious, I'll never forget the day my mother said "you'll never be pretty but at least you could be bright" (after I'd made an unfortunate eyeshadow choice). About 20 years later I heard her mother say nearly the exact same phrase to her (hers was you'll never be pretty but you could at least try to be nice). A wicked part of me chuckled at that.
Thankfully I just had boys.
I used to get the if you don't shave your legs you'll never keep a man, you should do something with your hair - it's pretty BUT ... yep been there done that.
At times I'm tempted to remind her - then I remember I'd be talking to a box of ashes and while that could be considered quaint, with my familial history of mental illness? Not recommended.
btw-you should read Laurie Notaro. One shining example of an email from her mother: go to church or go to hell. your choice. Love Mom.
"I'll take hell, please."
i've been to some pretty awful churches and church services. i maintain it could be the same thing.
The Liar and I have far more friends in Hell.
as do i, i'm sure. and really, why would we want to go anywhere else and spend eternity without them? it'd be terribly boring and lonely.