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When I was growing up,
there were things my mother used to say that always made me mad.
I was determined I would never say the same things to my own kids.
Now, at 44 with three growing children, I occasionally hear myself
saying, "Sit up straight" and "don't eat with your
mouth full" and "if you don't stop fighting in the car,
we're going to stop and let you off. And you can walk home."
I tell my kids to put hand creme on so their skin won't be dry,
and to get off the phone (my daughter, mostly) I often repeat
stories from my life that can teach them lessons. Thank God all
the things I tell them are for their own good! And I realize,
of course, that when my mother said those things to me, she was
simply telling me what was for my good. My mother sometimes told
me to take a walk around the block when I was upset. Though of
course I didn't want to hear her advice, I eventually learned
that taking a walk around the block can be a constructive activity.
Now my kids walk (not necessarily when I tell them to). My nine-year-old
once said, "Remember Mommy, when I was angry and you told
me to take a walk around the block? Well, it works!" At that
moment I knew I was doing a good job. When most of my friend's
moms didn't want them to wear makeup, my mother was encouraging
me to wear it. She told me that makeup and the right haircut make
a girl feel good. I bounced from thinking I must be ugly to need
makeup to feeling I couldn't leave the house without it.
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| I was determined
I would never say the same things to my own kids When I find
myself saying something like "sit up straight", the words
come from somewhere deep inside of me.Mothers pass on to daughters
who pass on to their own daughters the secrets of motherhood. |
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When I find myself saying
something like "sit up straight", the words come from
somewhere deep inside of me. I know it is unhealthy to slouch
and I want my kids to know it. They generally listen to me, they're
good kids, and I even remind them that I got the idea from their
grandmother. While I am different from her in a thousand ways,
I have to admit that sometimes we do think alike. It gives me
pleasure to pass on some of her unappreciated wisdom to my kids.
My eighteen-year-old daughter,
on the other hand, is totally different than I was at her age.
She tells me to wear makeup now, and says that she watches me
when I leave the house to make sure I'm dressed right. Although
she's always asking for money for something, her taste and sense
of what's looks right is impeccable. She also has a wonderful
sense of self-confidence, which I attribute to what a great kid
she is and what a wonderful mother she has. She is facing changes
and decisions about her future that can be frightening and disconcerting,
but she is stepping forward like a trooper. She's ready to experience
and live, to find her way. I at forty-four understand that I still
have more of my own choices to make and new directions to go in.
I also look at my mother, who at seventy-eight is energetic and
looking for new challenges. She doesn't want to accept the fact
that life won't go on forever and I understand why.
Sometimes I "get
a kick" out of hearing myself repeat tidbits of advice that
were soaked into my head as a child. I keep hand creme in the
kitchen like my mother did, I cannot tolerate a slouching child,
or worse a little girl whose hair gets in her face while she is
eating. I think that a good walk can help anyone with their problems,
and its true, walking has helped me sort out my feelings many
times.
Mothers pass on to daughters
who pass on to their own daughters the secrets of motherhood.
As much as we want to be different and unique and not too much
like our mothers, it really is good to take a little bit of them
with us.
I remember once a few
years ago when my daughter was away on a school trip. I went into
her room to put away clean clothes and make her bed. I suddenly
found myself looking at her posters, her clothes, her photographs
of herself and her friends and I felt this delicious sensation
of being sixteen. She's a fascinating combination of an artist
and sports fan, dog-lover and clotheshorse and has more friends
than I will ever count. She is usually on the run, yet she loves
to curl up with a book or draw. I stretched out on her bed for
a few minutes and wondered what it must be like to be a sixteen-year-old
girl in 1998. I wonder what tidbits of advice she'll be giving
her daughter.
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