I Gotta Be Me, Not My Mom
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I sound just like my mother these days. Well, almost. My
mother would never utter the four-letter blue words that fall from my mouth
with the ease, if not politesse, of a sailor on shore leave.
Nope, that's not Mom.
However, she is adept at polishing apples and invoking cheerful
aphorisms.As noted in earlier posts, I am
all too fond of those golden nuggets of good cheer and wisdom.Without a doubt, I inherited this habit from my sainted mother
who is surely going to get a pair wings (or at the very least, a medal) for the
gray hairs I've helped her amass with my erroneous ways.
But, over the years I've mellowed and find myself taken to
repeating gems like this one: Everything
I need comes to me effortlessly and easily now from all expected and unexpected
sources.It's the New Age-y version
of this wonderful platitude: You get what
you wish for (aka Be careful what you
wish for. You might get it). It seems the latter were intended as a cautionary
tale while the former would like for you to blow bubbles and view the world
from behind your Dolce & Gabbana rose-colored glasses.
There are truisms to these adages.You do reap
what you sow. You can be as happy as
you want to be. And little pitchers do have big ears.My son is living proof of this last one.He could be playing video games with a roomful
of screaming kids and still hear me tell a Mom friend two rooms away some super secret something
not destined for his ears.
My Mom is an amazing person, an artist and an activist.Since the 60s, she's helped to create groundbreaking
legislation and develop programs in North Carolina that paved the way for a new
generation of parents faced with this baffling developmental disorder.As the
kids say, she?s the bomb-diggity.
But, as much as I love, respect and admire my Mom, I'd
rather not turn into her, if you know what I mean.
Posted on June 11, 2008 - by
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About the Author: Mary MacRae Warren (aka Mrs. Cleavage) is a single mother who lives with her delightful young boy child in a cluttered apartment in Crown Heights. She is saucy, opinionated, creative, and a smarty-pants - not necessarily in that order. This is her story, live and unedited from Brooklyn. Check out her other thoughts at Eat. Drink. Memory.
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