Sunday, March 25, 2012

You are your mother's daughter

Most days I consider that a compliment.  After all, my mom was the first woman to work on the ticket counter at American Airlines.  She was in many ways a rebel.  She was strong and taught me to be as independent as she was.  That's not a bad way to be.

Then things changed.  She got older.

In a text conversation with my ex today, he made the comment "you are your mother's daughter" and he didn't mean it in the nice way.  He meant it in the "you're being stubborn and not taking care of yourself and coming up with 27 reasons to justify that behavior" way.  He wasn't wrong.  But that didn't make me feel better.

I took my girls to visit my mom the other night.  One kid, A, had a full conversation with her and my mom didn't hear most of it.  After a little while of this, M started to cry.  She's getting older.  She can't hear me.  I've cried about this more times that I can count.  Now it just frustrates me.  Mommy, can't you make her get a hearing aid?  Nope, I can't do that.  I can't force someone to get something they don't want much like I couldn't force my kids to sleep, poop in the potty or get ready for school on time.  Some folks just do things their own way.  And they don't seem to give a shit what I think about it.

I hope as I age, I remember this time in my life.  I'm the oreo, the white fluffy stuff in the middle of my kids on one side and my mom on the other.  When the cookie is pulled apart, a little bit of me gets stuck on both sides, slowly pulling me in different directions.  I clearly remember my mother's interactions with her mother.  She did a lot to take care of her when my grandfather died.  But she didn't live in the same town and wasn't 100% responsible for things like her doctors' appointments, getting groceries, etc.  And my grandmother lived only one year past my grandfather's passing.  My mom wasn't responsible for long.

I hope when I get older I don't get a disease.  I can't imagine what my mom has to deal with living with Parkinson's Disease.  It sucks.  It has taken away her physical abilities but not her desire to do things.  It's made her nervous and fearful yet she still wants to be like she used to be.  I can't even begin to comprehend how hard that is.  Yet, I hope if something happens to me and if I am living alone and am dependent on my kids, I will remember what it's like to be an adult child of someone who needs to be taken care of.  I hope I will be more cooperative and not make my children choose between taking care of their kids or their mom.  I hope I'm not scared.

As it pertains to strength and will, I hope I remain my mother's daughter.  I also hope I change a few things before I hit 80.  Hell, I hope I hit 80.  I am my mother's daughter.  I wear that proudly most days.

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