Getting so many comments on my last post has been really great. Thank you to everyone who offered their congratulations. It was very nice, and helped soften the blow of my mother's response a little bit.
It's funny, I hadn't realized until that post that almost everything I've written to date is about my mother. Think there might be a "there" there?!!
So I think I may have found the theme of my blog, at least for the time being. My mother. A woman who sleeps in her pantyhose and vacuums her house multiple times a day. Someone who is convinced that the liberal left is trying to steal her Christmas and that the boogeyman is around every corner.
I saw a sign the other day that read, "Call your mother. She worries." And I actually did. I want things to be so different with my own kids. I can't imagine what it would feel like to know they didn't want to see me.
I know it should be more pity than anger that I feel towards her. And I really do most of the time. But it doesn't matter how old I get, there's something just primal and basic about wanting the approval of your mother. And though I put myself through college, launched and edited multiple magazines, raised two really fantastic kids as a single mother and have managed to keep our heads above water for the past 11 months since I was laid off, I still can't get it right in her eyes.
Until I join a church, become a Republican, move next door to her and learn to be a properly submissive Southern woman, I'm doomed.
(But I'm a hell of a lot more interesting to hang out with than she is!)