Letter to my future grown children

It always seems like a cliche: the mother who is constantly annoying to their grown children…but there is a reason that movies, books and tv has perpetuated this myth.  It’s actually true.

I once heard a story of a woman about to have her baby.  “I’m going to raise this child right.  I’m not going to make the same mistakes you made,” she told her mother.  Her mom’s answer: “Of course you won’t honey.  You’ll make different ones.”

Already, Connor and Siena, I’ve made my own mistakes.  Mostly they are little but we moms tend to throw life out of proportion when the subject matter is as precious as you.  Let’s just get the horror stories out on the table now, shall we?  Connor, one day we had guests and I didn’t realize they had left the bathroom door open and you crawled out of there chewing on a toilet brush.  Siena, once when you were a very tiny baby I accidently left the monitor off and I’m sure you screamed much of the night away while I slept like a log.

Past mistakes have been made as much as I tried to be “perfect”.  But worse than that, they’re proof positive that I’ll make future ones.  And I’m especially afraid of who I’ll be as an older woman.

So I’ll be upfront about it.  I have some major personality flaws which will be especially unbecoming as you grow up and I’m no longer “perfect”, if only in your eyes.  Now that you are grown, here’s some things you should know (but I’m sure you already know) about me:

1.  I’m horribly airheaded.  I can drive by a place a hundred times and never realize a building has been there for years.  I forget names of people.  I’m awful with directions.  Trust me, it’s not the start of Altzeimers – I’ve always been this way.  It’s a genetic thing that’s been passed down for several generations (your Gram will also readily admit to having this affliction)…I hope you don’t get it too.

2.  In the interest of honesty and transparency, I say pretty much whatever comes into my head at any given moment.  Most of it should stay there.  And as an added bonus, often the words come out sounding like the worst possible version of what I meant.  I hope I never say things that will hurt you, but I’m afraid I probably will.  I’ll let you know now that it is never my intention.

3.  Occasionally I’ve been known to pull a bender and drink myself into a stupor.  It doesn’t happen often (once a year?), but when it does I always think of myself as the life of the party and the effects of items #2 and #3 are magnified.  Siena, you should probably pass on taking me to your bachlorette party unless you like the image of your mother stuffing dollar bills down the pants of whatever that moves.

4.  I truly care about other people – perhaps too much sometimes – but occasionally I get a little wrapped up in Me.  Like any idealist, I believe deeply in My politics, My way of doing things, My life.  (Hint: It might be harder for you if you end up as Republicans.)  When the Me monster comes out, take cover.  Eventually I’ll realize whatever I’m doing and I’ll try to shut up.  Connor, when you bring your intended home to meet Mom, I hope I don’t go on and on about myself and never ask him/her about themselves.  A swift elbow under the table usually works…ask Dad.

5.  Socially I’m an idiot.  I’m sure this is no surprise.  The effects of numbers 1 through 4 add up to a social nightmare.  Unfortunately I enjoy entertaining.  (You know, because it’s about Me.)

Somehow the two of you have already grown into fun, caring, intelligent children in spite of the cliche that I am.  Keep Dad around – he seems to tone down the effects of my syndrome.  And the two of you can form your own support group – I give you permission.  I’ll even bring the milk and cookies.

Much love,

Mom

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