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How children helped heal my relationship with my mother

How children helped heal my relationship with my mother

Currently, my 3-year-old twins are spending the day at their mom’s house, about 45 minutes away. Although I usually leave them with others (partly because I’m paranoid, and partly because I know it’s too long to ask someone else to take care of two children), I know that some of them are well taken care of. I know they will be fed plenty of good homemade food so they can have fun, and they will be with someone who will care about them as much as I do – someone who will act patiently, with love and affection. I am thrilled that my children would receive such unconditional love from my mother, but if I am honest, before they were born, I wasn’t sure they would be. Because, if I’m honest, she wasn’t into me at all.

I have no doubt that my mother loved me in the best possible way. It taught me to be strong, self-reliant, and ambitious, and also gave me the opportunity to make a lot of my decisions (letting me change my name when I was eight, which I realize now must be a mother herself is pretty hard). I’m glad he encouraged me, because he told me I was capable and smart, and that I didn’t need anyone else’s permission to pursue my dreams. But now I look at her with my children, embracing and kissing them with endless understanding and boundless deep patience, and I think, ‘Who is this lady ?

Sometimes I look at my daughter and think, Oh baby even though my son and daughter were born only 20 minutes apart, even though they both grew in my body at the same time, I knew right from the start that giving birth to a girl is more than just a challenge. Having a daughter is like putting a mirror to your face, which is what you have to see about yourself and everything you love. It makes you think about your life, how you felt when you grew up, all those things you want to recreate or save for your sweet, perfect baby, and makes you think about your mother, for better or worse. It makes you think about it. Was he there for me? Do I want to be like him? What do I want to give my daughter what I did myself or not. If she turns out to be just like me, what would I want her to know, feel, and understand? What if he doesn’t look exactly like me?

My strong, devoted and hardworking single mother gave me everything I ostensibly needed and then some–every chance I could imagine, and every ounce of confidence and self-respect she could throw my way. I want to give my daughter too (or at least a copy of it), but what I really wanted to give her—what I wanted to give her as soon as I knew it existed—was love. a lot of love. Gentle love, gentle love, understanding love. The love shown through warm hugs, forehead kisses, back massages, shoulders and arms that will always be open to him no matter his age. I want him to know that he can always count on me to be patient and understanding; I will always dig as deep as possible to try to see things from his point of view, no matter how frustrated, angry, sad or scared he is. I can’t be a super organized mom, or a masterful chef cooking organic, healthy meals every night. You’ll probably never make it to a bedroom or birthday party worthy of Pinterest – or anything else that pops up on this site and makes women like me feel inadequate – but empathy and care? He will enter spades and so will his brother.

Before my children were born, I worried about the role my mother would play in their lives. I was afraid that she would teach my children the same well-researched lessons that she tried to teach me – how to be tough, how to be independent, how to grow thick skin, how to set goals, and as long as you never leave he got there. At first glance, these things look great, and I know she wanted to raise me that way. But what I’ve learned the hard way is that babies need to know they’re OK, even if it means they’re scared, cry, or have feelings that hurt easily. Even if it means that they sometimes need to quit, or that they don’t always work for an external reward or reward. But even if I could give it to them—even at my best, since I never screwed it up—I could limit my mother’s unwitting and erroneous influence on my children. How can I reduce

When the twins were about 18 months old, my mom went out for a walk, partly to see us and partly because I was overwhelmed by the guy who just needed someone — that is to say — to help me survive. I was nervous, stressed, anxious, exhausted and being a mother was kicking my ass in a big way. When my mom showed up at my door, I could weep with great relief, backed down and let her take complete control of the situation (even if it meant I had to listen to her critique of her filthy house and her old food that had gone bad in my fridge).

Children were going through a difficult phase at the time, throwing food and crying, and generally young children became aware of all the things they could not say, do or control in their lives. Seriously, part of me waits for my mom to lose it, and gets frustrated and impatient, just so I can say, “Look, I wanted you so much.” But this never happened.

Instead I looked at a woman I felt I barely knew.

When he threw his food on the floor he attacked my daughter quietly, and when my son fell to the ground and hit his head, he didn’t move and told him he was fine, and when he asked her to run home when he was scolded, he told her to be careful. Instead, he hugged her. He kissed her forehead and asked her how she was feeling and left her in his arms until she was ready to go back again.

I felt really confused. What was going on here? This was a new behavior, wasn’t it? Or it was always like this and I misunderstood her, her love and her kindness. Was it just me? Have you ever had an emotional shock that never existed?

You need to say something, to bring it up. But how do you ask your mother why she is so suddenly in love with her children that you longed for her to be with you?

“Were you like this with me and Hailey?” I asked, hesitantly. “You are just so patient and cuddly and warm with the twins and I honestly don’t remember you being like that with us.”

I waited until my question sounded like a slap in the face, preparing myself for the effect, and almost immediately wishing to put the words back into my mouth where I could swallow them in my stomach. But surprisingly, he doesn’t seem to mind.

“I don’t know exactly why, but I think it’s different with the grandchildren,” she explained. Add:

With you and your sister I was very nervous and very tired. I was a single mom, and I was balancing everything. And I wanted to make sure you’d do well. I felt like I needed to prepare for life in case anything happened, so I didn’t think much about hugs and kisses.

 

Maybe because I’m older now, or maybe because I’m raising the kids myself, but there’s no pressure left. I just love them a lot more than I thought. It’s great to be around them.

Hearing this explanation broke my heart. On the one hand, watching my mom honestly love my kids was everything. He saw me in a new light, and gave me a new, deeper respect for him. I think she now feels an incredible amount of gratitude for her children, which, thus far, far outweighs any negative feelings about her own experience that I can still bear with me.

But on the other hand, I can’t help but think, why can’t you do this to me?

Sometimes I wonder if I’d ever get my mom’s version of my grandmother back if I were a kid. How would it be, how would you feel? Could I Save Myself Years of Therapy? Or am I going to go and talk about something else? I get my kids to grow up and end up on their therapist’s couch, talking about how their moms always hugged them, but never did x, y, z never did , and yes sure is a possible answer to this question.)

But what I know now, as an adult and a mother, is that it doesn’t really matter. It doesn’t really matter what my mom was when I was a kid, because now she’s amazing with her kids. He is loving, kind and patient, and allows my children to grow up knowing that there are people other than Mom and Dad who love, look out for them, and keep them safe. They can trust them to keep them. As much as I loved getting this version myself, I love it for my boys.

And somehow, surprisingly, I understood it.

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