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Saturday, May 7, 2011

Mother's Day Oreo

I've often felt like the white fluffy stuff in the middle of an Oreo. One of the chocolate wafers is my kids and the other is my mom. And there I am, stuck in the middle. When you try to twist the wafers apart, I get a little stuck to both sides. That pretty much sums it all up for me.

It's weird - not bad, just weird - to be a mom and a daughter at the same time. I love my mother and have always been close with her. But as she ages, my role in her life changes. She's still my mom but now I have a motherly role with her, too. It's weird. But one thing is certain - when she's mad at me, she still wants to discipline me.

I love having daughters. I love having twins. I love being a mom but boy, oh boy, it's a lot of responsibility. That people think I'm supposed to know what I'm doing baffles me. There is no manual for this.

Sometimes I have to make a choice between being a mom and being a daughter. My girls were each in a class play (both plays at the same time!) when I needed to take my mother to an important doctor's appointment. I sent their other grandmother and dad in my place but, still, it wasn't the same they informed me. Sometimes my choices suck.

I like having responsibility for my kids. I think I handle it well. My role in their life is clear. I am their mother - period. No doubts there. But when I have to take responsibility for my mom, it's a little different. I become motherly for her. I fill out her forms, listen when she can't hear, translate when she can't comprehend (mostly medical stuff). She's my mom and I don't dare do things like swear (okay, just not the f word), be disrespectful, etc. She can't quite discipline me but I know when she wants to.

The downside to this is what my kids see. They see me take care of my mom (their Nana). They see me very involved in the care of their other grandmother (Grandma - my former mother in law with whom I still have a good relationship). They wonder who takes care of me. And they feel the need to do it themselves. I tell them no, that's not their job. Not yet. When I'm 80, cranky and in need of help, then they can take care of me. I watched my mom take care of my cranky grandmother (who I loved a lot). My kids watch me take care of their grandmother. In another 40 years, it will be their turn. I wonder what they'll do to me.

1 comment:

  1. So make sure you treat your mom the way you want your daughters to treat you.

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