In lieu of Mother’s Day this past Sunday…

It always bewilders me just how much (with every inch of my soul) I deeply believed that my mother was always so wrong. Although I’d always heard the adage, “mom knows best,” I convinced myself every time that her conservative old world  thinking and new world culture bias was preventing her from thinking clearly. It is perfectly fine to give out my address over the internet. I don’t need a more practical degree. Love is all that matters in a relationship.

False. What isn’t false is that the proverb is true for a reason. My mother, along with all the other moms of the world, has a special secret weapon. Guess what? She has lived many more years than her offspring. She has lived, failed, learned, and gone to figure it out a little better the next time. Now, I am not saying that everything moms say is the holy grail of advice, or that when she tells you cats make better friends than humans, that you should clean out the pound of all things feline. I also understand not all moms are created equally. I am simply acknowledging that they know stuff. More stuff than I do at least. Either way, these are just a few of the ways I had to face the dreadful and horribly humbling thought revelation… my mom was right.

• At the ripe age of 13 or 14 I received the jack pot of teenage birthday presents. My mother agreed to buy me and Jazzy tickets to Britney Spears and allow us to attend the concert alone. The catch was that my mom had to find some tickets first. So, I impatiently took the matter in to my own hands with my shitty trusty Compaq and dial-up. Before I knew it, I had found a winning pair for sale and was e-mailing every bit of personal information I could give, less my social security number (probably only because I didn’t know it). Nothing came of the tickets or potential meet-up-and-swap I had arranged… luckily. Oops… I did it again. I am sure my mother would have loved to hit me baby one more time. The point is, I never made it to see Britney. Not only did mom save me some future concert reminiscing ridicule, but also kept my face off a milk carton.

• I began college as a Dance major. While I was not Anna Pavlova or the next Martha Graham, I was a beautiful dancer. I would have been able to perform professionally, teach, or choreograph. The truth of the matter was  that it was possible to do all of those things without a degree… especially a degree from a hardly recognizable dance program. The conclusion on this one, executed after many long talks with Mom, was that I needed a fall back degree. This is how I got in to Marketing. I did both for one more semester and then completely made the transition over to business. Now that I graduated and am successfully (enough) yet slowly figuring out my career, my mom tells me everyday that I should get back in to dancing. Shit, this was not a good example.[Seriously though, although I will always miss dance, I am forever grateful that my mom encouraged me to broaden my knowledge base.]

• Being that I have always dated all the wrong guys, when I told my Mom I planned to move on to my ex boyfriend’s street (where he, appropriate to this post, lived with his mommy), her do not proceed warning lights instantaneously illuminated. I practically needed tanning goggles. Stubbornly and regretfully… I did not listen. A year later, after the break up, after endless midnight doorbell ringing, after two calls to the police, ten blocked phone numbers later, and finally after a grueling and pricey move to a new apartment, I think it was safe to  admit. You were so right.

Related articles

• Mothers (overachairfeet.wordpress.com)
• 6 Business Lessons Mom Taught Us (score.org)
• Anna Pavlova: Russian Ballerina (dancingdowntheave.wordpress.com)
• Anna Pavlova: Russian Ballerina (dancingdowntheave.wordpress.com)