A few weeks ago, I was talking to my son on the phone. He told me what a good mom I am. He says this quite frequently (and it feels GREAT) so I thanked him as I usually do.
"No, no," he said, "You don't understand. You really are a GOOD mom." Then he broke into a story (Hmm... I guess he must be my kid, after all) about how one of his female friends was complaining about how horrible her mother is and, after hearing some of her complaints, he responded that he was sorry to hear what a bad mom she has because his mom is AWESOME. He said that if he had a problem, no matter what it was, I would do three things: 1. Diagnose the problem and tell him how to fix it, 2. Tell him the exact steps he needed to take to make that repair, and 3. Do whatever I could to HELP him. He also gave her the example that he was once in a car accident, called me and asked me to come help him, and I was there in five minutes.
(BACKGROUND INFORMATION: When my son still lived with his sister and me in Texas, he rolled his car over three times on the side of the road, then called and asked me to come meet him at the local grocery store, but refused to tell me why. It was broad daylight, but I could hear in his voice there was something wrong. When I asked where in the parking lot to find him, he would not tell me beyond that I would definitely see him. I FLEW to my car. The grocery was only about 5 minutes away from me, so of course it took me that long to get to him. When I did, the flashing lights of police cars and an ambulance near his crushed car showed me where to locate my only son. Now, back to what I was saying...)
The girl was impressed and told him he was lucky to have such a good mom. Well, after I talked to him on the phone, I called my daughter at college to tell her what her brother had said. She responded, "Phillip is ALWAYS telling you you're a good mom," as if there was nothing special about his statement and I was wasting her time. So I told her what he had said about the three things I consistently do that make me so "awesome:" Diagnose, instruct and help.
Anne said, "Yeaaaahhh... What else would you do?" As if everybody's parents do that and there is nothing special about it.
Okay. Granted this is the way things are supposed to work, and granted my daughter recently began attending a private university with above-average academic standards and a difficult-to-afford tuition, so most "kids" in attendance have successful parents (who mostly are married to each other). So, I figured that she is in a sheltered environment where she would not yet realize what my son does or appreciate me. Not a problem.
A few days later, my daughter called me with a health-insurance problem that she needed my help to resolve. I involved her in the process and helped her resolve the issue. (We, actually, just finished with that about a week ago.) No big deal for me, but she thanked me anyway. -- Any decent parent, in my humble opinion, would have done the same.
Then, a few days later, my daughter called to tell me she did not think, with her class load, she would be able to handle getting a part-time job outside of her work-study in order to pay her second-semester tuition. I have absolutely no idea how I will make that work, but I told her not to worry. We would figure something out. (I am kind of hoping to start getting paid for my speaking by then and am working on writing up my speaker profile. That is way harder than it sounds, believe it or not.) I happen to know things will work out one way or the other, so it was easy to sound confident. She sounded like she felt better after I told her things would be okay, thanked me and hung up.
Today, my daughter called me again!
"Hi Mom. My friend is having a problem with her water filter-pitcher..." she began.
I listened to the problem. Without thinking, I told her what was happening and why it was happening. Then I told her exactly what to do to fix it and asked if she understood. She did. She thanked me and we hung up. Then it hit me. Without even thinking, I had just performed the exact procedure my son claims I do. I called to tell him he was right.
"I know," he laughed. I guess now all I have to do is wait for his sister to realize he is right so I can bask in the glow of their adoration of my awesome motherness.
Isn't it just too bad that children so often become adults before they really appreciate their parents? But isn't it nice when they finally do?
"No, no," he said, "You don't understand. You really are a GOOD mom." Then he broke into a story (Hmm... I guess he must be my kid, after all) about how one of his female friends was complaining about how horrible her mother is and, after hearing some of her complaints, he responded that he was sorry to hear what a bad mom she has because his mom is AWESOME. He said that if he had a problem, no matter what it was, I would do three things: 1. Diagnose the problem and tell him how to fix it, 2. Tell him the exact steps he needed to take to make that repair, and 3. Do whatever I could to HELP him. He also gave her the example that he was once in a car accident, called me and asked me to come help him, and I was there in five minutes.
The girl was impressed and told him he was lucky to have such a good mom. Well, after I talked to him on the phone, I called my daughter at college to tell her what her brother had said. She responded, "Phillip is ALWAYS telling you you're a good mom," as if there was nothing special about his statement and I was wasting her time. So I told her what he had said about the three things I consistently do that make me so "awesome:" Diagnose, instruct and help.
Anne said, "Yeaaaahhh... What else would you do?" As if everybody's parents do that and there is nothing special about it.
Okay. Granted this is the way things are supposed to work, and granted my daughter recently began attending a private university with above-average academic standards and a difficult-to-afford tuition, so most "kids" in attendance have successful parents (who mostly are married to each other). So, I figured that she is in a sheltered environment where she would not yet realize what my son does or appreciate me. Not a problem.
A few days later, my daughter called me with a health-insurance problem that she needed my help to resolve. I involved her in the process and helped her resolve the issue. (We, actually, just finished with that about a week ago.) No big deal for me, but she thanked me anyway. -- Any decent parent, in my humble opinion, would have done the same.
Then, a few days later, my daughter called to tell me she did not think, with her class load, she would be able to handle getting a part-time job outside of her work-study in order to pay her second-semester tuition. I have absolutely no idea how I will make that work, but I told her not to worry. We would figure something out. (I am kind of hoping to start getting paid for my speaking by then and am working on writing up my speaker profile. That is way harder than it sounds, believe it or not.) I happen to know things will work out one way or the other, so it was easy to sound confident. She sounded like she felt better after I told her things would be okay, thanked me and hung up.
Today, my daughter called me again!
"Hi Mom. My friend is having a problem with her water filter-pitcher..." she began.
I listened to the problem. Without thinking, I told her what was happening and why it was happening. Then I told her exactly what to do to fix it and asked if she understood. She did. She thanked me and we hung up. Then it hit me. Without even thinking, I had just performed the exact procedure my son claims I do. I called to tell him he was right.
"I know," he laughed. I guess now all I have to do is wait for his sister to realize he is right so I can bask in the glow of their adoration of my awesome motherness.
Isn't it just too bad that children so often become adults before they really appreciate their parents? But isn't it nice when they finally do?
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