Mom and Me

The relationship between my mom and me was tumultuous to say the least.  A roller coaster of emotions at times to be sure.  We were a lot alike but oh so different at the same time.

I won't say Mom grew up in some kind of fairy tale world because that would be untrue.  Let's just say she was somewhat sheltered.  She was the baby out of five children, though she didn't really get to know three of her older siblings until later in life.  My grandmother had been married before and had three children from that relationship.  When she married my grandfather, she had my uncle and my mom.  So she grew up with that one brother for the most part.  She didn't really talk about her childhood much.  Every once in a while I could get her to share tidbits of information but nothing of major importance.  She did say she resented her mother for working and not being home all the time like moms are supposed to be.  That probably explains why she hated the idea of me working and my kids going to a sitter or daycare.

Mom told me she only had one serious boyfriend before she met my dad and eventually married him.  Considering the fact she was only sixteen when she married, I mean how many serious boyfriends can you really have by the age of sixteen?  She had always wanted to be a wife and mother.  And Dad didn't want his wife to work outside of the home, so their setup worked for them.

I know I was a letdown when I got pregnant, not once but twice, outside of marriage.  And since neither guy really stuck around much afterward, that meant I had to go to work to support myself and the kids.  Mom made me feel like such a failure for doing that.  I should be at home where my children needed me, spending time with them, helping with their homework, playing with them, cooking for them, etc.  All the things a good mommy does.  Not out working so my children were spending a lot of time with some babysitter or worse yet, at some cold, unfeeling daycare.

Mom was very opinionated about a lot of things, especially things that were really important to her, like family.  Family was a big thing for her, and given she spent years not seeing her brothers and sister, I can understand why.  You needed to land a husband and you needed to have children.  Those were top priorities for her.  I had the children, but I failed horribly in the "land a husband" department.  She was thrilled when I finally told her I was getting married.  Having sex without being married was something that just plain shouldn't be done.  You know how parents have the birds and bees talk with their kids?  Well my mom had that talk with me and it consisted of one word...DON'T.  There was no "be careful" or "make sure you use protection".  I was told where babies come from, then told you don't do that until after you're married. Plain and simple.  So you can just imagine the disappointment when I came home and told her I was pregnant.

She was never happy about my having a job of any kind.  I belonged at home.  When I told her I was getting married, she assumed that I would be quitting my job and staying home after that.  She couldn't understand why we couldn't make a living on just one paycheck.  I guess we could have but it would not have been easy to say the least.  Mom had this idea that there were two ways of doing everything, her way and the wrong way.  That was Mom in a nutshell.  It made everyday dealing with her quite difficult at times.

Don't get me wrong, my mom was my best friend.  There wasn't too much I didn't share with her.  Anytime something good happened to me, she was the first one I wanted to tell.  Anything bad happened, she was the one I went to to cry on her shoulder.  It used to irritate me how she'd call me all the time.  She would call me everyday, several times a day.  And if for some reason I didn't answer, I could hear her leaving me "why aren't you answering your phone?" messages on the answering machine.  Ironically, now I'd give almost anything to pick up the phone and hear her voice on the other end.

Looking

It's not that I wasn't loved as a child at home growing up.  I was.  I never felt like I was good enough but I was always loved.  My brother was more athletic than I was.  I was overweight and he was much slimmer.  I took after Mom's side of the family and he took after Dad's.  If there was more than one choice, chances are I'd make the wrong one.  I was always bad at decisions.  My brother was more analytical and logical, but I ran on pure emotion.

I was unfair to my brother.  I blamed him for the way our parents treated him better than they treated me.  I had so many rules and restrictions to live by that I went out of my way to break them or do just the opposite of what was expected of me.  Of course, he could do no wrong.  Not that he didn't make any mistakes mind you.  They just weren't the major screw ups that mine were.

Relationships, Lord where do I even start on that one?  I wanted so much for someone to love me that I wanted to give them anything to make them love me.  I shelled out money, went places, did things, all to make some guy love me.  And the one thing they all seemed to want was sex.  I started to equate love with the act of sex.  Surely if I gave a guy sex, he'd love me.  I wanted someone to look at me the way my dad looked at my mom.  It took me a very long time to figure out that look doesn't come from having sex with someone.  It's a far deeper and different kind of intimacy.

Of course my mom never understood this problem.  As I said before, she married my dad young so she never had to date around to find her Prince Charming.  I put up with so much garbage from men just to keep them around and I was ashamed of it, but I couldn't stop it.  I was desperate for that love I was seeking.  On the outside I looked like any other young woman, just trying to get by in this thing called life.  On the inside I was slowly falling apart, wondering if I would ever find what I was looking for, what I craved desperately and whole-heartedly from within my very soul.

My constant search for love consumed me.  I was so self absorbed in my search, I neglected my children.  My needs outweighed theirs.  I wasn't the mother they wanted, needed, or deserved.  Two little people who loved me unconditionally wasn't enough for me, or I just plain didn't see it.  They still love me now but they resent me for not being there when they needed me, and who can blame them?  I know I could have done better by them, and should have.

And it's not even like I never found love.  I did.  I was just too blind to see it when it did come along. I dated a couple of men who treated me really well and I'm sure they did love me.  For some stupid reason, I seemed intent on going back to the jerks who treated me badly.  My first husband loved me.  I know that now.  I might even have known that then, I'm not entirely sure.  But I took advantage of him and never appreciated his love so I ended up pushing him away.  My second husband was just a flat out mistake.  I married him, not because I truly loved him, but because I was tired of being alone.  He was there, he asked me to marry him, so I said "yes".  Big mistake.

By the time I met my third and present husband, I was so jaded and so tired of games, I was almost ready to just give up altogether.  I was totally honest and completely blunt with him.  About how I felt, what I wanted, what I expected and where I wanted things to go in my life.  And you know what?  He loved that about me.  He fell head over heels in love with me.  We knew each other less than a month when we got married but in that time I knew more about him than I knew about people I'd known for years.

I had spent the better part of my life at this point trying to appease people, giving them what I thought they wanted.  But with this man I could be honest.  He didn't judge me.  He didn't look down on me.  He didn't question my motives.  He just loved me.

And I knew he was the one when I saw that look.