When I see mothers portrayed
stereotypically in movies, whether it’s a Greek, Italian or Jewish family,
I cringe. Yet I love these characters. I thought that the over-the-top
Greek family in “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” paralleled my Jewish family,
with their loud voices and exaggerated hand gestures. But parents of all
backgrounds can and do speak loudly.
These moms are often depicted
as people who pay more attention to their children’s lives than they do
their own. But is that bad?
Most women I know have
knee-jerk, “Not me!” reactions when told they’re just like their mothers.
If my husband Bob said, “Those slacks aren’t flattering,” I’d just go
change. If my mother said the very same thing, I’d snap, “These are fine,
MO-THER.”
There comes a time when we
learn that most moms are not being any more judgmental than our best
friends. But we often interpret a mother’s advice as controlling and
meddlesome versus simply trying to be helpful. What sounds caring and
supportive from a friend can sound overbearing and insulting coming from a
mother. And I’m talking about in our adult
years!
Long ago, while visiting my
mom, we had a big fight. She waited until we were alone and asked about my
financial situation. She knew Bob and I were
poor.
“We’re fine, Ma,” I said,
dismissing her rudely.
“But that same old car keeps
breaking down,” she said patiently.
I was embarrassed.
Defensively I said, “Don’t worry.”
“I do worry.”
The reality was that she
wanted to help. But I took her concern as a put-down and felt that she was
meddling in my business, where she certainly didn’t belong.
I stormed off to the same
bedroom that I had as a little girl and, still acting like one, slammed
the door.
I was fuming when she slowly
opened the door and sat next to me on the bed. “If you don’t have enough
money to pay your bills, we can –”
I interrupted and stood up.
“I’m 28! I can take care of myself.”
Then she broke my heart.
Quietly she said, “It hurts me when you’re
unhappy.”
And although she had, in
fact, said that before, I was always too wrapped up in my defensive anger
to hear her. But this time I saw her sitting on my bed with her hands in
her lap and I realized that the look on her face was not one of
condemnation, but of pure maternal love. It was a pivotal moment when I
saw the situation from her point of view rather than mine. It was then
that I felt her tender compassion and finally understood what a mother’s
love means.
So, I think we should
re-consider our mothers’ true intentions when we think they’re being
critical.
When mom used to say she was
unhappy that I lived far away, I felt smothered. But the reality was that
she wanted me nearer. Is that so terrible?
And when she gently offered
to give us money that day, my response was one of foot-stomping
resistance. I thought, “You think I’m a failure.” But the truth was that
she didn’t want to see her daughter going without anything. And my
happiness mattered to her as much, if not more, than her
own.
Bob and I have rules we
follow when we argue. One is - no sarcasm. Another is – no mind-reading;
we need to explain what’s wrong.
And one was that he must never say, “You
sound just like your mother.” That’s no longer on the unfair fighting list
because if he said that to me today, I’d hug him, thank him from the
bottom of my heart and tell him he couldn’t have given me a lovelier
compliment.
