By: Elaine Martin
I have caught myself saying these five words lately, words I never thought would come out of my mouth. I have become my mother. There, I confess it – I am 41 years old and in many ways, I am my mother.
What could I possibly do to imitate my momma? If you watched me attempt to take a selfie, you would have no doubt of my maternal state. I cannot figure out how to angle my face in such a way that keeps my pic from having several layers of chin goodness captured. I’ll then try to angle my phone above my head, and all I see are gray hairs hanging around. What do I do with my face? Do I smile? Act surprised or excited? I end up looking like an idiot, then delete the photo and sigh that I have become someone I never thought I’d be.
There are other proofs that I am evolving into my dear mom – one remote control is all I care to handle. We have separate remotes for our TV, satellite, speaker, and DVD player. I’m so very content to simply turn the TV on and watch anything. I may peruse the DVR and find a show that I am only allowed to watch if no one is around because it’s a “mom” show. Inevitably, someone will walk in, grab the speaker remote that was apparently sitting right next to me and ask over the now-blaring speakers, “See? Doesn’t that sound so much better?” Again, the sigh that my technology pace is a bit too slow comes out of me.
You see, I have always loved my mom with all my heart and been thankful for her (most of the time). I guess I thought I would never be like her in regards to her traits I deemed “uncool” growing up. I remember being a teenager at home, thinking I was always smarter, braver, funnier, and all around more awesome than her. Now, as I stand with 17 years of motherhood under my belted muffin top, I find myself reconsidering my self-proclaimed role as Princess of All. Could it have been a mistake to assume she was a step behind me in every way I was sure I thought I was leading her? After all, she was just my mom, right?
Growing up, we moved quite a bit with my dad’s job. Every five years or so, my folks would call a family meeting to announce the move to the next state. With each new neighborhood, my mom was forced to be my best friend. She knew I was hurting and lonely, but she never once complained about playing house or Candy Land with me for hours and hours. Eventually, a new friend would knock on our door to introduce herself and eventually become my new playmate, and I’d be free from my mom. Now as I look back, those were sweet times when my mom was letting me share my heart with her without any interruptions. She was letting me know this new town was safe, and life was going to give me a great new adventure. Wow – she was pretty smart.
I recall being super furious at my mom about missing one of my softball games. She had the nerve to schedule a doctor’s appointment during the one game I had hit a home run. This was probably the only game she had ever missed, but I had a hard time forgiving her. Days later, I would learn that she had discovered a lump on her throat and was meeting with the doctor to learn her diagnosis of thyroid cancer. We stood as a family to fight with her as she won the cancer battle. She never once let me know how scared she was or the worries she surely had about leaving us kids behind if she passed away. Man, my mom was brave.
I absolutely love that we now live in the same town as my mom, and I have the joy of watching my girls interact with her. She brings color to their lives like only a grandmother can. She allows them to make messes in her kitchen, slips them money when I’m not paying attention, and sneaks them into more than one movie at the theater, calling it a “’double feature.” She laughs with them until ginger ale shoots out her nose. Geez, my mom is funny.
Smart, brave, and funny – why did it take me so long to realize my mom was everything I never thought she was? Because she is a mom, and moms are made to love you, no matter how much of a dorky kid you are. As for me, as I continue to flounder with Snapchat and Twitter hashtags, I would be so very proud to one day be able to proclaim that I am just like my mother.