Mom & Me Journals Histories: 1999 - 2001

    Dinner last night was horrible and perfect. Weird. We made reservations for the patio on which three other families celebrating Ancient Mothers were seated at approximately the same time. Almost immediately the restaurant wait staff began a series of apologies for shortage after shortage; food, silverware, plates, napkins, even wait staff. It was amazing! The four of us families passed overages from table to table, complained a little (mostly the kids) but ended up having this wonderful community picnic in which everyone shouldered the "burden" so no one was actually burdened. The management was very solicitous. We all got huge discounts, free drinks, appetizers and gift certificates for dinners. Everyone agreed that this was one of the few memorable Mothers' Days in their lives. There was even a crochety 87 year old patriarch who roared his displeasure on his wife's behalf several times as his wife reminded him that "This isn't Fathers' Day. You'll get your turn next month." In the meantime all the Old Ones told stories about similar experiences in their lives. It was especially gratifying that my mother and a few members of her generation got to participate in an event so obviously mismanaged as this one. Doing the best with what one's got is something her generation turned into an art. I think it delighted her and her peers at the Porterhouse, last night, to be asked one more time for the good of the citizenry to make lemonade out of lemons.

     While I am waiting for my mother to contemplate bathing, do the bathing then get ready to go to a steakhouse (I'm actually in the mood for steak, tonight) for her Mother's Day Dinner, I am thinking about what you said about how mothers should be celebrated on their children's birthdays and my response. I am also thinking about my own mother's style of mothering, which did not involve micro-management. Her style of mothering was very much like my father's initial driving instruction to those of us he taught to drive, "Correct it, don't drive it." She was a very low key mother just as she is now a very low key mother-in-law, grandmother and great grandmother. I think she views mothering as something you just do, like waking up, going to the bathroom, eating and sleeping; and, a label you wear. After all, it seems that the species is bound to continue, for awhile at least. So, one of the things you do as you are alive is you make other people and get them started; rear them, I love that word. It has never seemed to bother her that one of her daughters didn't do that. It isn't a particular pleasure either that three of her daughters did. I have heard people say that this casual, just-do-it style of mothering is what was wrong with the way their mothers or other mothers parented. I think, though, that it worked; a sort of mundane, get-the-kid-raised attitude. I think that when parents get too involved with parenting kids get too involved with being parented. I don't have any theories about to what this leads. Probably nothing specific, as usual. I suppose if I had been raised having play dates scheduled, overloaded with extracurricular activities and having my parent go to bat for me at school instead of having to go to bat for myself, micro-parent-managing would probably be a great way to be parented. I imagine it is helpful, at the very least, to have someone keep track of your schedule. I have nieces and nephews who are products of that type of parenting, they of the hypersocial future, where "private thoughts" is an oxymoron. I like that idea. When I was very young I expressed it as a drive to live "inside out", which I continue to do. I guess I'm surprised to find that one does not have to be an isolationist to do this.
     The bath water is draining so I'm off to put lotion on my mother then take her to dinner where we will probably discuss all the stuff above and more. My mother enjoys hearing about the parenting part of her life from her "victims'", as she says, point of view. That's one thing I like about being with her at this time in her life. I love watching her look back on her life and analyze it. It's surprising what matters to an 83 year old. It's also surprising what doesn't.