Mommy Dearest

     So there, a promise broken.

Sometime in the restless summers of my youth, I vowed that when I had kids, I would never be a stage mama. I vowed that I would not poke, push, pull or whatever it is that stage mamas do to their kids. I would let them live independent lives; I would just watch and guide them from the sidelines. They could choose what they want to do, wear, even who to fall in love with! I would not nag, berate, be paranoid, be overly sensitive, and definitely, would not recite their offenses from the time of their birth to present day, each time I would get upset or angry with them. I would never be nosy, especially about their love lives, and would wait for them to share with me the matters of the heart, IF they wanted to. In short, I would be the perfect, cool mom! But what happened? I have evolved into the exact opposite! My only excuse is that adage “Promises are meant to be broken”! What a wise human being is she/he who coined this phrase. Thanks to him/her, I have an explanation for my weird “momma dearest” behavior.

What is it about motherhood that makes one cling, nose, poke, badger, shape-shift from angel to witch and that whole gamut of hyped mama behavior? Oh, the sheer agony and self-restraint to not read letters left around, to not explore cell phones left unattended, and the like! What’s with the incessant  “kakulitan” about “what’s up? Did he call, text? Why the hell is he doing that to you? Why in heaven’s name are you doing that to him? Are you and your friends okay? Did you study already? Stop texting! Where are you going, what are you doing? You’re going out AGAIN?” The list goes on and on! Geesh, I drive myself CRAAAAAZY trying to get information and attention from my girls—like an addict and “KSP” even. I catch myself and think, “my poor, poor kids”, feel a twinge of guilt then launch, in the space of a breath or two, an award-worthy repeat performance.

So why, why? I guess it simply boils down to this—I want to be a part of every iota of my kids’ lives. I want only the best for them. I want to protect them, prepare them, inspire, nurture them and everything else a good mama (in the ideal sense) would want to be and do. But I’m only HUMAN too. I need to be needed. I need to know I am loved…and appreciated…and a significant part of their lives—entwined in all they are, and do and dream, etc. I know in my head that I should let them grow, let them be, and in time let them go. But my heart says “Wait up, slow down, let me in…I want to tag along on the journey of your life. Please?”. I hope my kids understand. I’m just a MOM…who loves them so, so much.

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