Moms are people, too

I love my mom. When I was a little girl, I thought the stars and moon were hung by her. She was pretty and warm and smelled wonderful. She baked treats and gave big hugs and made the best butter and sugar sandwiches in the world.

Then I grew up.

One of the roughest transitions a person has to make on the road to adulthood is adjusting to the fact that our parents are normal human beings. They are, after all, mere mortals complete with faults, frailties and annoying habits. Some of us face this sad truth while we’re still young and living at home, some of us after we move out and begin families of our own, and some of us never do. But we’ll leave ex-boyfriends out of this for now.

My dear mom, bless her heart, is a strong, passionate woman. She loves with her whole heart and soul. Part of that big love includes the need to control and micromanage the objects of her affection. She sincerely believes she knows what’s best for everyone, her way is the best (and only) way, and the single biggest problem with the world today is that they don’t let her run it.

Years of self analysis, the study of Zen, yoga, prayer and prescription drugs have helped me to accept my mom as she is. But she’s not the best houseguest in the world. And it’s not completely her fault.

There is something that comes over me when she comes for a visit and it isn’t pretty. Years of conditioning, normally dormant, are awakened at the knowledge of her impending arrival. I storm through the house like a maniac, cleaning everything to within an inch of its life. Baseboards, window ledges, the top of the refrigerator, no space is safe. I bark orders, frown, yell and criticize. Fortunately, (or unfortunately, I’m not sure which) my kids are used to the drill and have learned to lay low until the storm passes. It’s so bad that even on normal days if I’m cleaning out the refrigerator or something, they ask if Nanny is coming over.

This past week, my mom told me she was coming for a visit and would call when she left her house. No problem. I figured it takes more than an hour for her to get to my house, even under the best of circumstances, so from the time she called I could put finishing touches on the house and maybe even get to the grocery store and back before she got here. Wrong. Instead, my cousin called and said they were already in Dayton. Thirty minutes away. 

I started to plow through the house like Martha Stewart on crack. Dust was flying, mops were slinging and the dogs were hiding under the bed. As I slammed through the guest bathroom and yelled at no one in particular for not helping fast enough, my eternally calm, cool and collected teenage daughter, hand on hip, cocked her eyebrow and said, “Gosh, Mom. I don’t know why you’re freaking out. It’s just family.”

Silly girl.

She watched and smirked while I swept the baseboard and dusted the bottom legs of our antique china cabinet, rolling her eyes at my furious attention to detail. Remorse hit me. What kind of example was I being?

“I don’t ever want you to think you have to do this when I’m coming over,” I told her between broom strokes. “I mean, I want you to have a clean house. But only because it’s more comfortable and the right thing to do, not because of me.”

“I know, Mom. Don’t worry,” she replied. “I won’t.”

Somehow that didn’t make me feel better.

Finally as much was done as could be done. There wasn’t a single piece of lint on the clothes dryer, the floors were wall-to-wall spotless, the bathrooms were clean and fresh. The dogs even ventured back out from under the bed.

And my mom arrived.

I walked her and my cousin through the house to show them around. My cousin had never been to our house before, and we’d made some changes since the last time my mom had been up. We made it to my daughter’s room last and small talk was made before my mom asked her, “Do you watch TV in here, Katie?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said.

“Well I don’t know how you can, there’s so much dust on that screen.”

Just family, indeed.

Getting started

I wrote a column for a friend of mine who was the editor of The Montgomery County News. The column was very popular and I enjoyed writing it, so when she left MCN, I decided to create a new place to display previous and new entries. This is that new place!