A Bad Mother

Brie and I had quite the day yesterday: a bit of nasty text-o-gramming back and forth over a situation that had her mad at me.  We resolved it by the time I had to pick her up from work (her car's in the shop, one of the issues) but that got me thinking about another time when we were less than happy with each other.  That time was when she decided she was going to move to Washington state with her boyfriend a few years ago.  From that, came what's written below:

LETTING GO

When I was younger and thought I ruled the world, my mother put the mother curse on me.  You know what that is: your mother tells you that she hopes you have a child just like you some day.  Well, this actually came true because I do have a chip off the old block. 

A bombshell was dropped on me recently: I'm a bad mother.  I know it comes as quite a shock, especially since I have always considered myself to be an exceptional mother.  But it has been brought to my attention that I am controlling; hypocritical, and think I know everything.

So who made this grand pronouncement?  My 22-year-old daughter Brie came to this conclusion.  She announced that she was moving to Washington State with her boyfriend, and I told her she'd have to get through me first.  I guess that was the controlling part.

Granted, she's an adult and of course I can't keep her here with me forever, but to have her 3000 miles away?  That isn't sitting too well with me.  This isn't going to be the smartest move she's ever made.  That's the I-think-I-know-everything part.

The funny thing about this is: she may be right, at least about the hypocrite part. You see, I left home when I was 19.   But of course that was different: I had 2 years of college under my belt, had been working for a few years and had a stash of cash when I left.  And of course I knew everything about the world.  It's not the same with my daughter; thanks to the sheltered life she's led with her single, over-protective mother.

We had a big argument about this supposed move, and stopped speaking to each other.  That gave me plenty of time to think about what a bad mother is, at least in her eyes.  So here's what's on my list:

• A bad mother takes her 4 1/2 year old and 1 month old and removes them from an abusive situation
• A bad mother makes sure that the only babysitters her daughters have are trusted family members, like their grandmother and aunt.
• A bad mother tailors her work hours so she can attend any school function her children are involved in, be it chorus, orchestra, band, field day, or moving up day (to name a few).
• A bad mother leaves a cushy job she really enjoys, so she can take a more flexible one to accommodate the testing and meetings required for her young autistic child.
• Whether a bad mother is working full time, part time, or not at all, she makes sure her children notice no difference in their standard of living
• Even though a bad mother gets lonely for "adult company", she would never move anyone into the home because that wouldn't set a good example for her daughters.
• A bad mother raises girls who don't smoke, drink, do drugs, and have something special to give their husbands on their wedding night.
• A bad mother spends money that she doesn't have so that her daughters can have the prom dresses of their dreams.
• A bad mother cries herself to sleep at night worrying about her children: praying for their safety and well being.
• A bad mother solves all of her children's problems and fights their battles because that's how a tigress takes care of her cubs.
• A bad mother, when she sees her child standing on a train track with a speeding locomotive heading for her, pushes the child out of the way and lets the train hit her (figuratively, not literally!).

With that in mind, I had to figure out what a good mother is:

• A good mother knows when her job is done, and knows when to let go.

That's it.  Whether I want to admit it or not, whether I like it or not, my daughter is a grown woman and I have to let go.  It won't be easy: I'll be kicking and screaming the whole time.  But I am letting go.  I'm going to let her make her own mistakes, and choices, and be her own person, without me trying to make things perfect for her.

She's leaving on March 28, to be her own person and to finally get out from under her mother's shadow.  She may not be leaving under the exact same circumstances that I did, but that's her choice.  After all, she has a mind of her own.  And if I raised her correctly, she'll be able to make wiser choices in her future.

If there's one thing I need for her to know, it's that although I'm letting go of her physically, I'll never let her go in my heart.  Because no matter how grown she is, or where she is: she's still my little girl.

And by the way: I've already put the mother curse on her. J

P.S.  Thankfully, as you know, she moved back 5 years later just like I had done in my past: chewed up, spit out but ready to rise from the ashes.  Yes: she is a chip off the old block.  Well, not that old  😉