There's a lot they don't teach you at mothering school. I'm pretty sure no one gets a Master's Degree, but it would be nice.
Think of it -- Graduate level courses, a practicum, internships, a required thesis paper on something you actually know in your bones; recognition you have done a good job; a set of letters that signify you have gone beyond the basics of feeding and clothing them; acknowedgment they have become exceptional people because of your great work, not in spite of it! Your Name, MMA.* Maybe even deference and the best table at hip restaurants.
Nancy Friday states in My Mother, My Self that children survive if they get good enough mothering. This was helpful to me. I figured I could be "good enough."
But I actually viewed myself as a really good, exceptional mother. You know, one of the best. I said that to my daughter while we were traveling last January. Her face . . . then her laugh . . . then her exclamation that I was joking wasn't I, made me revise my view of my mothering skills.
Interestingly enough, my feelings weren't hurt. I was just sorry that what I had taken for great mothering was not seen the same from her side of the (sometimes closed) door. I wanted her to have experienced me as an exceptional mom -- not for the accolades or great tables at fancy restaurants -- because I love her so much and wanted to give her my best.
But mothering is a dance. I love to waltz, my daughter is a tap dancer. My mom is a tap dancer, I never learned the steps. I know what would qualify as great mothering if it was directed toward me. If asked, I bet my daughter could say the same. (Actually when she was 13 she told me the kind of mother she would be. It didn't look a lot like me). What is considered wonderful by one daughter, is considered laughable by another!
This post started as a comment on my son leaving home. Obviously I got a bit off track. Tomorrow I will start my post the same way, "There's a lot they don't teach you at mothering school."
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1 comment:
I think you are a marvelous mother.
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