#10 Getting Much Too Personal, TL;DR

Hello everyone, and welcome to my final blog post for Monstrous Mothers of Literature.


So, after spending long hours reading through books on motherhood studies and thinking about the practice of mothering and writing about it etc., I was feeling philosophical and had a burning question I just needed to ask my mom. I realized that I've been curious about the answer to this question for a while now, but I didn't really know how to articulate it. It was just a vague feeling, an impression. Certainly not the sort of thing I would just up and ask her about.


All this reading and talking we've been doing - well, it sort of gave me a new vocabulary, I guess. Or maybe it just made me consciously aware of the vague feeling about the changing relationship with my mom. Either way I recognized that there was nothing wrong with asking her about it.


I called her up. About an hour and a half after I last called her.


Her: "Hello?"
Me: "Hello~!"
Her: "Hi, what's up?"


I am immediately thrown off of my game. She's stressed. How do I know this, you ask? Well, when she's not stressed she usually greets me with "Hi, pollito!~" or "Pollito!~ What are you up to?" Always the 'Pollito' (a pet name, it means 'chick') and always in a slightly higher, happy tone of voice than she uses when greeting anyone else on the phone. It's the voice she uses with babies. But now, she just sounds like her normal self, saying hi to someone on the phone.


It doesn't surprise me. I know my aunt is visiting from Mexico for a couple weeks and my mom surely just finished cooking breakfast for her. I'm also sure that my mom is cleaning up the kitchen, not letting my aunt assist because she's a guest, and worrying about where to take my aunt today. That's how my mom is. But whatever the reason, I am struck with the illogical worry that it's not my mom who I'm talking to on the phone. Did I dial the wrong number? I didn't say "Hello Mami," so maybe this is someone else. Her voice sounds strange - then again, I called her cell phone and not the land line. The sound quality is different. I equivocate, waiting for proof.


Me: "Um, yeah... Sorry to call you so soon after I last called you."
Her: "That's fine."
Me: "Uh, so, I have a question. It's sort of a weird question but I really have to ask it."
Her: "Alright."
Me: "It's sort of because I've been reading all these books on motherhood, see, so it got me thinking about stuff."
Her: "books on what?"
Me: "MO-THER-HOOD."
Her: "Oh, okay. What's the question, sweetie?"


Success! The intonation and inflection match my mother's usual speech patterns when talking to me. This is my mom for sure.


Me: "Okay, so, have you always been so stressed out and bothered by stuff? Did you never used to show it around me or is it just that I didn't notice because I was little?"
Her: "What do you mean?"
Me: "Uh, I mean, for the last couple years I feel like I have to protect you now, and I never felt that way before. When I was little you were, you know, -MOM-. You had everything down. But now it just seems that you're really vulnerable, always stressed about something - finances, your siblings, paperwork - and I even have to get between you and dad and tell him to lay off when he's annoyed at you. Y'know?. So I guess I just want to know if you've always been so overwhelmed by things and if you've always bickered with dad like that. Did I just not notice because I was little and didn't understand? Did you hide it from me so I wouldn't worry? Or is it really new? Because it feels new to me."


She thinks for a very short moment.


Her: "I think it's a little bit of everything. I do think that you get stressed easier when you're older, you don't have the energy to handle things as well as you could when you were young. But I remember feeling the same way about my own mother, suddenly wanting to protect her. Recognizing that she was vulnerable."
Me: "Yeah!" (I'm glad she understands what I was getting at.) "I think it's been in the past couple years at college that I started realizing it. I mean, you used to be -MOM-, you could just swoop in and save the day for me. Like, some great big mythic figure." (she laughs) "But now, I mean, you're my mom. But you're not -MOM-. I sort of miss that, the feeling that you could just make everything all better no matter what. But I'm also a little upset at myself for not recognizing it sooner, that you're a vulnerable person who needs protection, just like me."
Her: "It's just part of growing up, sweetie."


We talk some more, mainly about how in the research books I've been looking at, it seems like people blaming their mothers for all of life's problems is pretty common. She agrees that lots of people she knows have major "mommy issues." I just can't understand it. I'm lucky, I have a great mom. She's not a perfect mom, but I don't hate or resent her. Sure, there are a few things she's said and done that I resent, but that feeling never extends to her as a person. Even when she's said or done things I absolutely hate, I always understood her line of reasoning. I understand why she made the choices she made or laid down the rules she did, even if I disagree or would do it differently with my own children, if I have them.


Actually, that's sort of the only thing I could really relate to in most of the books I've been looking at, ambivalence towards the thought of having children. A few of the case studies matched me perfectly. I sort of idolize my mom, I think she's the absolute best mom anyone could ever have. I also think there is no way I could ever be as good a mom as she is. She is a natural caretaker. She always puts my needs and wants before her own. She likes to give me the money to go on school trips but she doesn't particularly want to go anywhere herself. I'm not like that. I want to travel, I want to experience things. I want to write. It would be cruel to have a child if I can't guarantee my presence - I don't want to be an Alice Walker! And I am strongly against nannies or intensive help from relatives. It seems too much like dumping the responsibility of raising your child off on someone else.


But why do I think that? Well, that's what my mother taught me from the time I was old enough to ask why some of my friends stayed at their cousin's or grandma's house for two weeks instead of going on vacation with their parents. For the same reason I have a knee-jerk reaction when I see infants under a month old out and about in public. I want to say, "Shouldn't that baby be at home?! In this crowded place, he'll catch something!" - that's what my mother says (to me or my father, not the other mother!) when she sees a tiny infant at church or the mall. God forbid the infant is out and about without the mother. Then it becomes "Shouldn't that baby be at home with his mom?" She must be a BAD MOTHER!


BAD MOTHERS leave their children with relatives and go on vacations. BAD MOTHERS take infants to public places or even worse, let others take them out. Hiring a nanny to do all the work makes you a BAD MOTHER.
But of course my mom is none of these things. She is what I was raised with, I love her terribly, so of course I think she is the BEST MOTHER. If I can't be just like her(which I definitely can't) I will be a failure. I will be a BAD MOTHER.


Logically I know it's a load of crock. I shouldn't not have babies just because I can't live up to the intensive parenting model that my mother conditioned me to see as correct. Try telling my brain that. Stupid brain, pay attention to the logic!


My mom is a person. I am a person. As people, we are equally fragile. We need to protect each other. We love each other. But I am not my mom. If I have children, it is possible for me to be a good mom, despite not being my mom.
There is a differece between grasping the concept and believing it - now I grasp the concept. Hopefully the next step will be belief.