When I cook dinner for my family, I tend to announce what each dish is. There’s really no need because it’s usually pretty obvious with foods like chicken that look like chicken, broccoli that looks like broccoli, and noodles that look like noodles. No surprises.
At some point during the meal, if one’s plate is without an item, I’ll point it out again. “Did you see the noodles?” My kids, who are annoyed but trying to be polite, will say, “If we want noodles, we’ll take noodles.”
It’s smart of them, actually, to remind me in a nice way that they are fully capable of deciding what they want and don’t need Mom to jump in. Mom knows it, but Mom is still a mom, and she’s going to offer up those noodles until she is told to knock it off because Momming never stops. The chances of moms stopping are like 99-point-never percent.
Even with the best intentions, we moms can over-mom from time to time. We mean well, and we really want to make sure you know we are taking care of you, so we will say and do things that seem unnecessary to our children. Age does not discriminate. I know this because I have a mom who, at age 87, still isn’t sure I know, at age 54, that if the gas gauge on the car is low, I should fill it.
Recently, in a waiting room, I saw a man about my age with his elderly mother, checking in for her doctor appointment. Such a nice boy to take good care of her. The mother said to the receptionist, “Are you Linda? I talked to you on the phone! I told you how my son made those barbecued ribs. Well, this is my son! He did such a good job!” Dude was dyyyying. He and I then spoke telepathically. He looked at me saying, “Why on earth is my mother talking to people about my barbecued ribs?” I looked at him saying, “I feel your pain, Bro.” It was a weekday afternoon at a podiatrist’s office. It was like God’s waiting room.
I have an actual voice mail from my mother that says, “When you get to my house, if the door is locked, use your key to get in.” Are you kidding me, woman? Next time you see me in public, ask me, and I’ll play the recording for you. It’s real.
The grocery store, a mile from my mother’s house, has been there for well over 55 years. Somehow my mom thinks my sister, Susie, might not remember where the store is. Susie is also well over 55 years, so she knows her way there. But every time Susie goes, she gets Mommed to the max with directions. The store is one mile away and there is one turn to make. Doesn’t matter. Our mom needs to remind Susie. Every. Single. Time.
Moms are always worried their kids won’t dress properly for cold weather. Grandmothers, who started out as mothers, are especially aware of winter warnings. Once my kid had an outdoor soccer game in November, and my mother-in-law reminded us to wear coats. She came from a long line of women winter worriers, with her own mother practically being a professional coat kvetcher not only to her children, but to her grandchildren as well. You know why? Momming never stops.
My friend, Jenny, is a fully functioning adult member of society, a wife and mother of two teenagers. She’s driven herself to work and her kids to activities for years and years. Yet when she is driving anywhere with her mother, Jenny is told each time someone is crossing the street, as if she didn’t know that hitting them with her car was a bad idea.
My bestie, Nancy, tells her kids they need to text when they get home. They live in her house. Still, she has these young men text the word “home” when they are home, so if she gets up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, she can check her phone for their whereabouts. She doesn’t realize walking into the hallway to see if their bedroom doors are open or closed could really kick up her step count for the day.
Moms can’t help it. It’s our job to nudge you. It’s our job to over-love you. It’s our job to push you to the very edge of Annoying Mountain. If it’s not one thing, it’s your mother.
Soon we Moms get our one day of glory, Mother’s Day, when Hallmark demands our children treat us extra special. In addition to cards, flowers and brunch, I think Hallmark should freshen up the terms of this “holiday.” Moms are allowed to ask invasive questions about topics that are none of their business; remind their kids, adult or younger, to brush their teeth for no less than two minutes; simultaneously talk about how great you are while criticizing your life choices. Now that’s a gift for Mom!
