While talking with my daughter the other day, I was giving her some advice. After ending our conversation, I started thinking about what I had just said and I wondered when it was that I began to sound like my mother. I had just heard myself say things I once swore I would never say to any child of mine or anyone else’s child for that matter. How could this have happened? I used to hate those cliches, so imagine my utter surprise when I began passing along these random bits of understanding from “the world according to my mother!”
If everyone else jumped off a cliff/bridge/roof, would you jump off too?”
I remember promising myself I would never begin any sentence with “when I was your age”, or “if only I had known then what I know now” or, “if you would only listen to me, I could save you so much heartache.” Oh, and the one I hated most was, “Well, I’m not everyone else’s mother, I’m your mother and I said no!” The first time I heard those words come from my own mouth it was akin to a religious experience. At that very moment I knew, without a doubt, I had become a full-fledged member of the elite motherhood sorority.
Did any of us ever take our mothers seriously when they said these things? Of course not! I know I didn’t. After all, as children, and even young adults, we have a mental block which prevents us from seeing our mothers as real people. We can’t imagine they actually had a life before we were born, so how could we possibly consider any advice they gave us. And we were so sure our mothers haven’t done that…!
I’ve discovered that all mothers share another genetic predisposition. They are capable of imposing intense guilt on anyone just by using the look. This is why mothers are such spectacular interrogators. They can ask a question in such a way that you know they already know the answer. When you were a teenager and madly in love with the local juvenile delinquent, whom your mother strictly forbid you to see, but you saw him anyway, your best friend’s mother would ask, “Your mother approves of this new love of yours, does she?” Now, how were you supposed to answer that question when you already knew, that she knew, your mother would never approve, because, as a teenager, you were certain that all mothers had the same, unrealistic, high, moral code. They often backed each other up this way and it would have been futile to answer with a lie since it is common knowledge that all mothers can also read minds. Oh yes, and many others, my own included, have eyes in the back of their heads, albeit invisible ones.
Ma and Cha
I now believe that mother wisdom is definitely genetic. I think it must be a recessive gene that kicks in right after childbirth because once we become mothers our focus shifts immediately. Nothing, or no one, is more important than our child. Without thinking, we begin urging everyone to eat their veggies, drink plenty of milk, get at least eight hours of sleep each night, and we can’t resist asking, even total strangers, if they washed their hands before they sat down at the table, since unsolicited, verbal cautions quickly become second nature to us. On occasion, mothers will even suggest remedies for a variety of ills. Chicken soup is the most popular, recommended cure-all and, of course, it is dispensed with a firm reminder that, in the future, “an apple a day will,” well, you know. And then one day we understand that all motherly advice emanates from love and this is why it is often accompanied by the most heartfelt hugs on the planet.
Finally, we have an epiphany of sorts and realize that the bottom line is, mother really does know best.
