Mama's Girl

I’m a mama’s girl. I know that doesn’t make me particularly cool, but it’s 100% true. We could speculate about why I'm such a mama's girl, but that’s what the psychiatrist’s couch is for, right? Regardless of the many reasons, I’m extremely close to my mom. I’d do anything for her, and she for me. So what’s the problem? Well, I wouldn’t say there’s a problem exactly; it’s just a weakness or a dependency that I feel the need to acknowledge.

Long past my 18th birthday, I’ve depended on my mom for love and support, but since becoming a mother myself, I’ve taken this dependency to a whole new level. In fact, I don’t think I’ve been this dependent on her since I was a child, unable to cook or drive or earn money for myself! And this goes against the natural order of things, right? Parents give unconditionally to their children as they grow, but then as adults, the children are supposed to give back. Only I don’t think I’m giving back. Before I had babies, maybe I was, a little bit anyway, but now I just take and take and take. It’s a little embarrassing, shameful even, but there it is.

Now I’m sure my mom would say the two little blonde “angels” that I have brought into her life are more than enough “repayment” for her, but that hardly seems fair. I mean, I know she loves my girls and enjoys taking care of them, but I also know that the time spent on her own with them is not exactly easy on her. But despite the physical challenges my wee ones present, my mom eagerly comes over almost every weekend to serve as babysitter and provide an extra pair of hands. And those hands never come empty. Whether it’s clothes for the girls (or me!), soup or meatloaf for weeknight dinners, filters for my air purifier, or some gadget she’s found to help us with the tasks of daily living - there are no limits to her generosity.

And I apparently have no limits to how much I can accept. In other circumstances, I think of myself as pretty self-reliant, but when it comes to being a mom – well, I’d be completely lost without mine.

But I think I’m okay with that. I mean, as long as she is of course. And I can only pray that one day my girls feel about me the way I feel about my mom. Of course, I’m terrified of the road we’ll have to travel to get there, but I hope we do. I’d love a couple of mama’s girls of my own.