Who Cares What Nansi Thinks?

Over the weekend I had occasion to converse with a gentleman who also has his mother in a nursing home. We compared notes about our dysfunctional mothers and our childhoods. Both of us have mothers who are larger than life. Our mothers make fabulous first impressions and are masters at hiding the truth.

It used to really irk me to have people come up and say how awesome my mother is. If they only knew. But at the same time I WANTED my mother to make a good impression. I'd much rather be known as the child of "the great lady" than the child of a nutbar.

How do you overcome a childhood of chaos? I feel sorry for anyone who is close to me. I come with a train load of baggage. I tend to over-compensate with my kids. Because my mother treated us like scullery maids, I don't make my kids do housework. I don't pile chores on them and I think that's harmful. I'm not preparing them to tend to their own homes. There's got to be a good balance.

Have you ever watched that show "What Not To Wear"? It's a fashion show where they tell you what you're doing wrong. I think of my mom as the "What Not to Wear" of life. I've learned what NOT to do in every aspect of my life from my mother. I know how NOT to be a wife, how NOT to be a mother, how NOT to be a friend.... Now I'm learning how NOT to grow old.

We have a lady in our nursing home who is living her last days exactly how I want to live mine. She's a quiet, dignified lady. She used to be a school teacher. She finds something good in every situation. She revels in the simplest of pleasures. She raves about "dippy eggs" the way most of us rave about champaign and caviar. I've never heard her complain.

Basically, my mom has totally messed up my own old lady plans. I fully expected to let loose when I got old. I was going to complain loudly, be cantankerous, pee on the furniture... but now that I live with that from my mom, I can't bring myself to put my kids through it. (Guess I'll just have to be fabulous til I die! ha ha)

A few years back when my mom had her first stroke, she was in another nursing home. Finding the time to visit her was nearly impossible. And when I DID go visit all she did was complain bitterly. I hated going to see her. I was also still pretty raw about some of the things she'd put me through in recent years. I was talking to her social worker about these things. I said, "You know, my mom makes a good impression, but she's got some pretty wounded kids. It's damn hard for me to give up time with my own family because I feel obligated to spend time with her."

The social worker said something that affected me profoundly. "You know, Nansi, we fully realize that some of these lonely old people are lying in the beds they spent a life time making." Wow.

The gentleman I chatted with this weekend is the son of one of my favorite ladies in the world. I just adore her. I know he does too, but the choices she made in HIS life have left him pretty wounded. I totally understand his resentment of her. I think he feels that his mother has somehow fooled the people around her. (I know I feel that way about my OWN mother.)

I wish he could reconcile with her before she dies. I don't think there's enough time for that. I think she'll be gone shortly, and her mind has been gone for a while now. How will he walk through this life with the anvil that must surely sit in the center of his heart? Thankfully, and miraculously, he found a remarkable woman to be his wife. Perhaps she'll create a new picture of womanhood to him. One that he can trust and rely upon. My fondest hope for him is that when he buries his mother, the pain and anger of the past will go with her. I pray that he dwells on the good of his life with her. I pray that both he and she will find peace at her passing.