Like My Mother?

My mother told me I had no patience. I had a LOT of patience. I just used it all up on her.

Sometimes I wonder if my adult children see me in the same way?



Mothers are depicted on TV as bothersome creatures whose mere existence torments their adult children.

Mothers are viewed as doddering old creatures out of touch with the reality of today’s society and having little use, except to be a nuisance.

One thing about mothers . . . once you’ve become an adult, your mother has lived long enough to study and be hurt by and to see dangers and delights in society that you haven’t discovered yet. They can save you some pain and trouble, and that’s what many mothers are tryinig to do.

If your mother says you work too long and too hard, chances are you do. Hard work and long hours are often regretted in subsequent years.

If your mother says you’re not eating right or not taking care of your health, teeth, body . . . you probably are guilty of those things as well.

Perhaps adult children resent their mothers because they realize there are still some things they don’t know. Or perhaps their mother’s views contradict the current beliefs of their peers and society?

Whatever the reason you may choose to shun your mother, remember this . . . IF your mother was supportive of you and cheered you on, if she tried (even though at times may have failed) to help you as you grew up . . . she still has your best interests at heart and only wants the best for you.

Calculate how many days? hours? minutes? you give to your mother each year . . . she’s keeping up with it. She may never say a word about feeling neglected, but her heart acknowledges it and she will become more reluctant to say or do anything for fear of causing you to spend less time with her.

If you love your mother, however distasteful the thought of spending time with her, you might want to do it anyway. “Time waits for no man”  (first appeared about 1395 in Chaucer’s Prologue to the Clerk’s Tale). It won’t wait until it’s a convenient time to spend time with your mother. If you’re waiting for her to change, chances are that’s not going to happen either. Take her or leave her while you can. I just hope you don’t regret your choice later.


Being A Mother

OMG . . . My daughter, who is transgender, posted a profile photo on facebook, and I didn’t think it was as flattering as it could be, no smile, etc., so I said so in a private message, and now she’s changed it to a landscape photo, and I just wonder if I meddle too much?  Heck, I know I do.

Then I posted some photos from her last birthday, which was two months ago day after tomorrow . . . I thought maybe she’d like one of them better, and now maybe that was too much meddling too?

I don’t know what to do at times. I’m really getting ancient. There’s no other way to put it. I want to be supportive, and I want to help but then I end up meddling . . .

Here’s a birthday picture I took that I like. I know every day can’t be your birthday and we’re all happier some days than others and I should have minded my own business.


Mom’s Things

Do all children think their mother’s belongings are theirs as well as hers, or is it just my children?

I’ve talked to other mothers about this, and they say their kids are the same way.

I’ve been asked, “Do you have . . . ” as eyes searched the surroundings as if, if the answer is yes, they can just take it and not bother me.

I don’t really mind. I enjoy it actually. There are other people who feel so connected to me that they think my things are their things.

I’ve never been a selfish person. I like to share. I often give things away.

But there’s no one on this earth that comes to me with the great expectations my children seem to have. They’re adults now. One of them doesn’t want my help in his effort to prove he’s a grown man, but once in awhile, if I offer him something, he’ll accept it.

The other two? “Hey, Mom, can I have, I need, do you have, where is?” often preface their sentences.

I was the same way. I’d hold up an item and ask my mom, “Do you mind if I borrow this?” I’d have it tucked away in my purse, or bag, or headed out the door with it, never once expecting to hear anything, except the words, “Go ahead and take it. It’s fine.”

I miss my mother. She’s been gone 38 years and I still miss her. When my kids walk in and expect to see me and all my familiar things, I sometimes wonder, do you have any idea how much you’re gonna miss this?