Mother's Day. Appreciate It.
Mamacita says: I was reading an article somewhere, by somebody*, that stated that no matter how old we get, there are still times when we want our mother. Our fifty-year-old mother.
When our mothers are young, we don’t consider them ‘friends.’ We don’t consider them young, either, because when we’re very young, all adults are old. Heck, our 12-year-old cousins seem like adults. Our 22-year-old teacher and Grandma: one and the same, age-wise. No, to a child, most adults are old; they’re not sweet young things. They never were; it’s not possible.
Our mother was always a mother. She had no life before us. She’s just Mommy, when we’re young, and when she’s young. We don’t even know she were young till we look at old pictures. And then we’re blown away because, “Oh my gosh, look how YOUNG she was there!”
But as we get older, our mothers seem to stay the same, and somehow the years between us don’t matter as much as they used to.
They stay the same, that is, until we take a good long look at them and it hits us that they look old. Not just mom-old, but OLD. Wrinkly. And you know there’s white underneath the Miss Clairol. And they aren’t as sure-footed as they used to be.
This is shocking, but it’s okay, as long as the MOM is still there inside the stranger-every-day body. You know, MOM. The lady who can make magic with a word or a touch? Her? That’s the one.
Good thing WE’LL never get old like that, huh.
I’ve read that when we are in our twenties, the fifty-year-old mother is somehow at her peak of Mom-ness and Friend-ness. Our fifty-year-old mother is an expert in so many things.
What we don’t realize is that our fifty-year-old mother is still missing HER fifty-year-old mother.
And what very few of you know yet, is that your fifty-year-old mother is still as insecure and wondering as she was when she was in her twenties. Your fifty-year-old mother is still beating herself to death over mistakes she made when you were three.
How do I know this? I’d rather not say.
The seventy-year-old mother is still cool. Still Mom. It’s just that the fragility is starting to show, and the mortality thing comes to mind more than we’d like.
The fifty-year-old Mom is the epitome of Momitude. She KNOWS things. We should listen more to our fifty-year-old Mom.
Unless she’s a meddling idiot with outdated stupid ideas and a lot of unwanted advice, of course. You don’t have to listen then.
Chances are, however, that if your fifty-year-old Mom is mean and judgmental and delights in hurting people’s feelings, she was exactly the same when she was in her twenties. Bodies change a lot**. Personalities seldom do.
The following has been making the internet rounds for a long time now, and most of you have no doubt seen it before. However, I’m posting it anyway, because for some reason, it means more to me with each passing year.
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The Images of Mother
4 YEARS OF AGE ~ My Mommy can do anything!
8 YEARS OF AGE ~ My Mom knows a lot! A whole lot!
12 YEARS OF AGE ~ My Mother doesn’t really know quite everything.
14 YEARS OF AGE ~ Naturally, Mother doesn’t know that, either.
16 YEARS OF AGE ~ Mother? She’s hopelessly old-fashioned.
18 YEARS OF AGE ~ That old woman? She’s way out of date!
25 YEARS OF AGE ~ Well, she might know a little bit about it.
35 YEARS OF AGE ~ Before we decide, let’s get Mom’s opinion.
45 YEARS OF AGE ~ Wonder what Mom would have thought about it?
65 YEARS OF AGE ~ Wish I could talk it over with Mom.
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Let’s talk things over with Mom while we have the chance.
If your own mommy doesn’t appreciate you, come right on over here. I’m not saying exactly how old this Mommy is, but she’s in her peak and prime of Momitude. I do, however, screw it up sometimes, even now. I do my best. That’s all we can do, in any and every phase.
I have a lot of advice, but I’ll wait till you ask me for it***.
*If I knew the author and the name of the article, I’d have mentioned it up above, silly.
**Unless you’re Jamie Lee Curtis.
***Most of the time.
A Sympathetic Reply to Your Email, Student Dear.
Mamacita says: Now ordinarily, as anyone who knows me already knows, I’m a firm believer in staying up late and sleeping in, whenever possible. When I think of all those exhausted teens being dragged from their beds because some early-bird adult thinks that because he’s up, everyone should be up, I get really angry on behalf of the teens. Let the kid sleep, for crying out loud. Let the poor exhausted kid sleep. Not everybody likes the early morning hours. Me, for instance. I sympathize, students; I honestly do. Morning people who wake up the whole house because they believe it’s just, well, PROPER, to get up in the early morning, make me start sympathizing with ax murderers.
However. My sympathy ends when there are genuine obligations.
But students, in spite of my total sympathy your desire to sleep in, and my firm belief that you should be allowed to sleep for 15 completely uninterrupted hours if that’s what your bodies are screaming for, I’m going to have to say, in all honesty, that deciding to sleep in on the day of your final exam was a really bad idea. I also think it might have been worth the excruciating pain your hangnail/hangover/tummy ache/sore throat/deep throat* (who do you think you’re trying to fool?) would have given you, to come to class and take your test. The room is large 
enough that you could have sat in the back and kept your germs/moans/pain/whining to yourself, and when you were finished you could have taken a nap, completely undisturbed. Yes, I did receive your email explaining how you had to work late last night and were really, really tired, and when the alarm went off you just couldn’t get up, you just COULDN’T, so for the sake of your health you turned over and went back to sleep, and you thanked me in advance for understanding because you know I remember how it felt to be young and so tired it just wasn’t humanly possible to get up for just a test. I didn’t answer it because it’s hard to type when I’m laughing that hard.
Who do you think you’re talking to, kid?
I remember being so tired it wasn’t humanly possible to turn OVER, let alone get up. But I got up anyway, because I had responsibilities. I sleep-walked across campus many times, to take a test. I took tests with migraines so severe there were sparks shooting out of my head and I could barely read the questions. I took tests that I’d pulled two or three all-nighters in a row to prepare for, and I really believed I was prepared! I have fallen asleep with my head resting on my completed test. I took an important astronomy test in my pajamas, and it was well before public pajama-wearing was “in.” I never once cut class on a test day, even though there were plenty of times when I wanted to. Every time, for example. But I showed up. I am a walking definition of “Night Owl,” but when I have an obligation, I get up. And you need to, too.
I think, dear student, that a great way of telling whether a person is an adult or still a child is watching you to see if you are, on a regular basis, dragging the ol’ carcass out of bed to do something because it’s there to be done, you’ve committed to doing it, people are waiting for you to get up and get there to do it, you signed up to do it, you promised people you’d be there to do it, you paid money to do it or you’re being paid money to do it, and by golly you’re just SUPPOSED to be there to do it. No excuses.
I’m very glad that you now feel rested and alert and are rip-roaring eager to take that test. Unfortunately, the semester is now over and your options are gone.
See you next semester. Don’t sell your book.
Big Business Meets Its Match
Mamacita says: I have seen many versions of this story, but this translation from Paul Coelho’s blog is the best so far.
There was once a businessman who was sitting by the beach in a small Brazilian village.
As he sat, he saw a Brazilian fisherman rowing a small boat towards the shore having caught quite a few big fish.
The businessman was impressed and asked the fisherman, “How long does it take you to catch so many fish?”
The fisherman replied, “Oh, just a short while.”
“Then why don’t you stay longer at sea and catch even more?” The businessman was astonished.
“This is enough to feed my whole family,” the fisherman said.
The businessman then asked, “So, what do you do for the rest of the day?”
The fisherman replied, “Well, I usually wake up early in the morning, go out to sea and catch a few fish, then go back and play with my kids. In the afternoon, I take a nap with my wife, and when evening comes, I join my buddies in the village for a drink — we play guitar, sing and dance throughout the night.”
The businessman offered a suggestion to the fisherman. “I am a PhD in business management. I could help you to become a more successful person. From now on, you should spend more time at sea and try to catch as many fish as possible. When you have saved enough money, you could buy a bigger boat and catch even more fish. Soon you will be able to afford to buy more boats, set up your own company, your own production plant for canned food and distribution network. By then, you will have moved out of this village and to Sao Paulo, where you can set up HQ to manage your other branches.”
The fisherman continues, “And after that?”
The businessman laughs heartily, “After that, you can live like a king in your own house, and when the time is right, you can go public and float your shares in the Stock Exchange, and you will be rich.”
The fisherman asks, “And after that?”
The businessman says, “After that, you can finally retire, you can move to a house by the fishing village, wake up early in the morning, catch a few fish, then return home to play with kids, have a nice afternoon nap with your wife, and when evening comes, you can join your buddies for a drink, play the guitar, sing and dance throughout the night!”
The fisherman was puzzled, “Isn’t that what I am doing now?”
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