Tales from the Towers: What would my children say?

My friend Hanna reached her eightieth birthday and she invited some people for a lavish brunch down in the dining room. The celebration was very nice and the food was sumptuous. Later her son and her daughter stood at the head of the table and started to eulogize their mother. They remembered their childhood, youth and also the years later when Hanna was a wonderful and quite perfect mother. While they talked, my free-running imagination started a trip of its own and I started to imagine what my own children would say at my eightieth birthday. It is still some time off but let's suppose I too invite my friends to this kind of celebration.

My daughter, as the older one would probably start:

"She was a good mother generally, she fed us and she dressed us and she scolded us She made very good chicken soup. And I loved her mamaliga!"

Here my son would interrupt: "Why do you have to mention mamaliga? I hated it! But her chocolate cake was awesome!"

Now the daughter says: "We had some difficult times with her though. She was over-protective! We only left the house and she immediately turned herself into her worry mode! We shouldn't stay out late! We shouldn't get into accidents God forbid. And who says one doesn't need a sweater anymore in April? It was really annoying!!"

Now my son: "But when we two argued about whose turn it was to take out the dog, she simply took the leash and took out the dog herself. We were sure that she would in the end because she hated to hear us argue! The thing which bothered me most was that she could not help me with my math homework. I was only in the third grade or so, and she did not know a thing!"

"Well", now my daughter intervened, "she could not help me with my bible homework either! But that's understandable! Wherever she was when she was young, no one knew about bible except our great-grandfather, and he spoke some strange kind of Hebrew! Everything he said sounded like on the days we went to shul on the high holidays."

"But later", she continues, "at university, my mother was great at helping me with the English classics. There she sat, late at night, tired with her eyes already closed and nearly asleep and I had to nudge her in order to find out what happened to King Lear in the end! She did not always approve of my boyfriends. But her mother did not approve of her boyfriends either, so it's hereditary, I suppose!"

My son's turn now: "She wanted me to cut my curls and get rid of my earring. Sometime later I actually did! But then she always complained about the mess in my room. Why did she have to go in there at all? The girlfriends which I brought there did not mind!"

By now they realize that they talk too much, although they do have a very attentive audience, so in the end they both agree: "We could have done worse, really, as far as mothers go! We hear some stories about mothers compared to which ours was...oh, well, maybe not an angel, but generally OK!"

To be quite honest, I myself often wonder if the job I did was good enough!

So now I am trying to make up my mind whether to let them talk at all! The best thing for me would be to let my grand-children talk because there I find unconditional love and admiration. According to my more or less objective opinion, I was much better at grand-mothering than at mothering!

I am waiting for my children to comment on that!

I wish you best success in mothering and grand-mothering as well!

Lucca