Tuesday, May 7, 2013

You're not my mother

I go to you for a lot of mothery things, and. Well wait. Maybe not a LOT. Definitely more than your daughter does, who dethroned herself from the family. Definitely a lot less than I'd go to my mother if she were there. You're good for some things.

You don't cook the right way, but you're okay in your way with the housekeepers and stuff. You would not like a houseful of shrieking and giggling girls like my mother did. I would run past her being chased by Dani and see her looking down at what she was mending. "Smiling quietly" never made sense when I was young - smiles don't make any noise. But when I think of how my mother did that smile, it seems like a sure thing that's "smiling quietly."

You are very distinctly NOT a loud, Italian mama. My mom yelled all the time. It's the Italian mama way. It's not a bad thing, just a loud thing. It means nothing, it's not a sign of anger. You yell and then you're over it. That's how it's done. You get quiet though. Actually, I've never heard you yell once. You just speak firmly when you're angry.

But you're okay. I guess there can be more than one way to be a good mom, even if my mom's way was the best. But I can't ask you about this because I can't trust you to be objective. Won't you always pick your son over me? If I were you, I would. So who am I supposed to talk to about Josh asking me if I'm ready to get engaged?

7 comments:

Anonymous said...

Honey, if you need to talk about it, then you definitely aren't ready. Sorry, but it's true.

Anonymous said...

Some people talk about things as a part of the process of thinking things through. I do and don't see anything wrong with it. Sam didn't get where she is today by jumping in feet first without much thought. Who wouldn't want to talk with their mom about such an important step? I wish a hundred times a day I could still talk to my mom about any number of things, both trivial and important. But, don't let fear stand in your way Sam.
Kathy

Nina said...

that's absolutely ridiculous that if you need to talk about it, you're not ready. It TOTALLY makes sense that you want someone (your mom) to talk about it with. I talked to my mom before I got engaged.

I'm sorry your mom isn't there for you to talk to, Sam. I wish she was.

Even though it's not nearly the same, maybe talking to Dani might help. Sometimes it helps just to be able to talk through our anxieties - at least it helps me work out my thoughts. And - as much as you've been there for your sisters as a surrogate mom of sorts - I bet your sisters have the capacity to be there for you too. Obviously not the same way you've been there for them...and obviously not Alex right now. Anyway, as usual, feel free to ignore the unasked for advice. :)

Rosie said...

You can talk to us. I wish I could help be your mother. Even if we give terrible or conflicting advice, we are here and we care. And writing seems to help you sort things out, even if you write it down but don't publish it.

Suzanne said...

A long engagement is also a great option. Honestly, you two are nearly married already. A home together, kids, you've got it all.

Anonymous said...

I don't think that feeling like you're not ready means that you're not ready. Before I had my first child, I (mistakenly) thought that I would know when I was ready. We waited for months that turned into years. Then it just happened. (oops!) In retrospect, that was the best thing that happened to me as I don't think I would ever have reached the conclusion that I was ready all on my own. There's always one thing or another, one reason or another. Sometimes it's better to just let things happen and go with it. Forget thinking too much.

OTRgirl said...

Of course you want to talk with your Mom! And of course you can't talk with Josh's Mom.

I like the idea of talking with Dani. Still a younger sister is definitely not the same as a Mom. It's neat for the younger sister though to be in the position to give advice. After I had our kid, it was fun to have my little sister come and be the boss of me for a week.