On this Mother's Day I find myself thinking about many things. Mother/daughter relationships, mid-life crisis, and that expression there at the left..."It is what it is."
My neighbor, friend, and sauna buddy is preparing to send her daughter off to the Army on Tuesday. I was somewhat surprised to find that they were not planning any kind of special event as a send off.
Nearly 20 years ago when my time for departing to the Navy was approaching, my mom made sure to plan a wonderful family event as a send off. The whole family ventured into Chicago where we had dinner at Italian Village and then we all went to see A Chorus Line--this despite the fact that my mother was very much against my entering the service. In my family this event warranted a ritual gathering--a marking of the event, a recognition of the separation.
My friend's daughter has often joined us for our weekly sauna. In fact, on some occasions, both of her daughters join us, so I have an avuncular relationship with both of the girls. There doesn't appear to be an abnormal amount of the tension that exists as the first born hits 19 and starts to spread her/his wings. They just don't do ritual the way we did.
Mother/daughter relationships - they seem so much more complicated than mother/son relationships or father/child relationships. I imagine it has much to do with the expectations that our culture dumps onto mothers. The last few generations of women have been able to tear down much of the oppression that in previous generations left them as an adjunct to a husband's property, an unmarried drain on their own family's resources, or an indigent spinster.
Yet as each generation expanded the boundaries of what women could do or accomplish, the traditional role of motherhood hovered over it all. Tension was bound to occur between mothers and daughters as all of this was negotiated.
So I organized a simple going away party for her daughter. Friday night we planned to light up the sauna, walk the dogs, sauna, and then have a build-your-own-pizza party. I scrubbed the walk as it was only 35 degrees and snowing/sleeting/raining. My neighbor, who is rather driven and controlling in many ways, went for a run rather than forgo exercise.
Her youngest daughter brought along a friend. During our dog walks and saunas, we have had a number of discussion about this young woman. In short, we believe for a number of reasons that she has an eating disorder. She too has a very driven and controlling mother. I did not miss that she had slipped most of her one piece of pizza into the trash.
I pointed out to my neighbor yesterday when we were discussing all this again that, unlike this other young woman, she has raised two very well adjusted confident girls, despite being a rather driven and controlling woman. We wondered what was different between the two households. My neighbor also pointed out that it was interesting that this girl's mother had major issues with her own mother. I decided not to remind my neighbor of her own issues with her own mother.
Mothers and daughters...my aunt and my late grandmother, my mom and her sister and their 92-year-old mother, my sister and my mom, my cousin and her adoptive mother...many varied relationships there. Also, much cross pollination between generations when one woman sought someone else for maternal love when their own mothers had disappointed them...
Which, I suppose, leads me to the rest of what's on my mind--namely, acceptance.
I believe I am right smack in the middle of the typical mid-life-crisis age. There all all kinds of stereotypical images that come to mind--unnecessary red sports cars, hair pieces, divorce/remarriage to a trophy wife, taking up some ridiculous adventure sport... I've come to believe that what is really occurring is the realization that it's time to stop anticipating our lives, recreating our lives in fantasy, or dreaming our lives, and just live them. It is what it is. For most of us that's a thought that takes some getting used to.
My mom gave me the perfect gift for my 30th birthday (17 years ago). It's a coffee mug that I cherish that says, "I'm 30 - it seems like I should have money by now." The sentiment captured on that mug is the essence of what begins to evaporate in mid life. It is what it is.
I have prided myself on my ability to reinvent my life. I unexpectedly left home at 18 to join the Navy, which ultimately lead to a scholarship and a degree from a prestigious university. I up and left Chicago for Florida, which gave me breathing space and got me out of a bad job situation. I went back to school and got my nursing degree. I packed up my life and moved from the third largest city in the country to the Upper Peninsula. In between, there were other lesser risks in which I was not afraid to take a chance and jump.
I always had the knowledge that I could jump to get me through the bad days. Now, at 47, that concept - "jumping" or turning my life inside out and trying something new - is much less of a practical option. Losing that option, for me, is what my mid life crisis is all about--waking up to the fact that it is what it is, that "I'm 47 and it feels like I should have money by now," but I probably will never have money like the way the mug states it. Acceptance.
There is a peace that comes with learning to say "It is what it is," and stop the wishing, stop the ruminating, stop the looking forward and backward, and simply focus on the now. There is also peace that comes with learning to say "She is what she is" in regards to our mothers or our daughters or our fathers or our siblings or our co-workers and friends. Acceptance.
My mother and I have not been without our issues over the years. She literally cried for four and a half hours the day I told her I was joining the Navy. Yet throughout my childhood she made sure I knew that I was loved and cared for. She tried very hard to be a different kind of mother than her mother had been. She was the kind of mother that kept huge memory boxes of every scrap of artwork or homework that we brought home from school. She plastered the refrigerator with same. She took us to the zoo. She took us to museums. Vacations were about all of us going somewhere as a family. She made sure that each one of us always felt special.
She is who she is. That is my Mother's Day present for her. Acceptance. She is my friend.
My neighbor, friend, and sauna buddy is preparing to send her daughter off to the Army on Tuesday. I was somewhat surprised to find that they were not planning any kind of special event as a send off.
Nearly 20 years ago when my time for departing to the Navy was approaching, my mom made sure to plan a wonderful family event as a send off. The whole family ventured into Chicago where we had dinner at Italian Village and then we all went to see A Chorus Line--this despite the fact that my mother was very much against my entering the service. In my family this event warranted a ritual gathering--a marking of the event, a recognition of the separation.
My friend's daughter has often joined us for our weekly sauna. In fact, on some occasions, both of her daughters join us, so I have an avuncular relationship with both of the girls. There doesn't appear to be an abnormal amount of the tension that exists as the first born hits 19 and starts to spread her/his wings. They just don't do ritual the way we did.
Mother/daughter relationships - they seem so much more complicated than mother/son relationships or father/child relationships. I imagine it has much to do with the expectations that our culture dumps onto mothers. The last few generations of women have been able to tear down much of the oppression that in previous generations left them as an adjunct to a husband's property, an unmarried drain on their own family's resources, or an indigent spinster.
Yet as each generation expanded the boundaries of what women could do or accomplish, the traditional role of motherhood hovered over it all. Tension was bound to occur between mothers and daughters as all of this was negotiated.
So I organized a simple going away party for her daughter. Friday night we planned to light up the sauna, walk the dogs, sauna, and then have a build-your-own-pizza party. I scrubbed the walk as it was only 35 degrees and snowing/sleeting/raining. My neighbor, who is rather driven and controlling in many ways, went for a run rather than forgo exercise.
Her youngest daughter brought along a friend. During our dog walks and saunas, we have had a number of discussion about this young woman. In short, we believe for a number of reasons that she has an eating disorder. She too has a very driven and controlling mother. I did not miss that she had slipped most of her one piece of pizza into the trash.
I pointed out to my neighbor yesterday when we were discussing all this again that, unlike this other young woman, she has raised two very well adjusted confident girls, despite being a rather driven and controlling woman. We wondered what was different between the two households. My neighbor also pointed out that it was interesting that this girl's mother had major issues with her own mother. I decided not to remind my neighbor of her own issues with her own mother.
Mothers and daughters...my aunt and my late grandmother, my mom and her sister and their 92-year-old mother, my sister and my mom, my cousin and her adoptive mother...many varied relationships there. Also, much cross pollination between generations when one woman sought someone else for maternal love when their own mothers had disappointed them...
Which, I suppose, leads me to the rest of what's on my mind--namely, acceptance.
I believe I am right smack in the middle of the typical mid-life-crisis age. There all all kinds of stereotypical images that come to mind--unnecessary red sports cars, hair pieces, divorce/remarriage to a trophy wife, taking up some ridiculous adventure sport... I've come to believe that what is really occurring is the realization that it's time to stop anticipating our lives, recreating our lives in fantasy, or dreaming our lives, and just live them. It is what it is. For most of us that's a thought that takes some getting used to.
My mom gave me the perfect gift for my 30th birthday (17 years ago). It's a coffee mug that I cherish that says, "I'm 30 - it seems like I should have money by now." The sentiment captured on that mug is the essence of what begins to evaporate in mid life. It is what it is.
I have prided myself on my ability to reinvent my life. I unexpectedly left home at 18 to join the Navy, which ultimately lead to a scholarship and a degree from a prestigious university. I up and left Chicago for Florida, which gave me breathing space and got me out of a bad job situation. I went back to school and got my nursing degree. I packed up my life and moved from the third largest city in the country to the Upper Peninsula. In between, there were other lesser risks in which I was not afraid to take a chance and jump.
I always had the knowledge that I could jump to get me through the bad days. Now, at 47, that concept - "jumping" or turning my life inside out and trying something new - is much less of a practical option. Losing that option, for me, is what my mid life crisis is all about--waking up to the fact that it is what it is, that "I'm 47 and it feels like I should have money by now," but I probably will never have money like the way the mug states it. Acceptance.
There is a peace that comes with learning to say "It is what it is," and stop the wishing, stop the ruminating, stop the looking forward and backward, and simply focus on the now. There is also peace that comes with learning to say "She is what she is" in regards to our mothers or our daughters or our fathers or our siblings or our co-workers and friends. Acceptance.
My mother and I have not been without our issues over the years. She literally cried for four and a half hours the day I told her I was joining the Navy. Yet throughout my childhood she made sure I knew that I was loved and cared for. She tried very hard to be a different kind of mother than her mother had been. She was the kind of mother that kept huge memory boxes of every scrap of artwork or homework that we brought home from school. She plastered the refrigerator with same. She took us to the zoo. She took us to museums. Vacations were about all of us going somewhere as a family. She made sure that each one of us always felt special.
She is who she is. That is my Mother's Day present for her. Acceptance. She is my friend.
8 comments:
I get senimental reading stories like this, perhaps because my relationship with my mother was always difficult... but then, it was the only one I had ;=)
You know Renz, you're a really wonderful, reflective writer.
Just want to say that I don't think mother/daughter relationships are any more complicated than mother/son or father/child. More vocal, possibly, but that's about it. I think the level of complication depends on the individuals involved.
Your mom sounds like a treasure, though. :)
PJ, thank you, it's an extra special compliment coming from you. Both your words and that you took time again to read the blog.
Thanks, Goran, you're always there..."liking" and commenting. :-)
After reading this I have at the tender age of 71 finally have taken your advice and accepted my mother. She was what she was. You're very profound for a young man and I have to thank you for a great mothers day gift. I hope my grown children feel this way about me. I too did a lot of the same things your Mom did, they were things that didn't cost money only our time. Glad we are in contact again. Aunt Barb
Thanks, Aunt Barb. I'm glad you found my blog. Happy Mother's Day!
Once upon a time in a land far away (DeKalb) a way too young girl married and being the good Catholic girl (and fearing eternal damnation if birth control was used) found herself pregnant. "You've made me the happiest woman alive" said one woman. "Now you won't graduate", said another. "Not sure you can stay in school", said a Dean. Well, this tale had a happy ending. Her baby boy was baptized on graduation day. And everyone lived happily ever after. And that baby grew to be my Renz who wrote this exquisite blog.
:=) Thanks, Mom, I love you! Happy Mother's Day!
It takes both maturity and perspective to be so sanguine.
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