Mother, How You Love Me…
Mothers, how we love them, but sometimes, we just don’t understand them.
We all love our mothers (apart from the exceptions to this fact) because, well hey, lets face it, they kept us in their belly for 9 months and then took care of us before we could make our own decisions. But the down side? They don’t know when to stop taking care of us, and let us make our own decisions.
Recently, I’ve started to think my mother would make an incredible police officer. I say this because every time I make plans to go out, she will instantly become like a police officer, and make me the innocent person trapped with her in the interrogation room. Even though I would be innocent, she would question me with her mind made up that I was guilty, and just wait for me to say one teeny tiny little thing so she can slap those handcuffs on me and lock me up in prison.
No joke, her mood instantly changes and she interrogates me in this serious accusatory tone. I have to carefully choose my words when I answer because one wrong name, or place, or time I mention…and I’m done for.
I don’t understand why she’s like this. I’m sure a lot of people have faced similar situations with their mothers when for no reason they feel they need to exert their authority, regardless of whether you have actually done something wrong or not. I guess it’s because they don’t want their kids to grow up too fast. I guess it’s because they have taken care of us for so long, it’s hard for them to stop. Maybe its the fact that what their kid is actually doing and what they say they’re doing are two entirely different scenario’s in their minds. When we were little our mother’s knew exactly what we were doing because they were usually present. But once we start spending time away from our mother’s, how can they be sure we are not following the wrong path?
Maybe, suddenly being cast out of your kid’s life and not allowed back in to the extent where even your opinion isn’t relevant anymore leads our mother’s into a state of dillusional paranoia, with the world around them spinning out of control, where black appears green and walls are speaking in tongue, mocking their inability to be a crucial figure in their kids life, with distant laughter piercing their ear-drums and shadows creeping up their legs. Okay, maybe that’s taking it too far, but who knows? Maybe when I become a mother and my kid no longer needs me, when I reach this painful realization, will I be just like my mother? Will you be just like yours?
This entry was posted on Thursday, August 28th, 2008 at 12:01 am and is filed under Rants, Reality of Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
iBummed Wall RSS Feed
