"I'd do anything for you my baby," I hear my mom coo at my toddler, who just asked her to play "cars" for the third time today. I smile at my kid's beaming face.
They are growing up with the grandmom that every kid should have. One who is ready to go on adventures. One who dotes on their every wish. One who sneaks cookies and showers them with love.
My heart swells with love and joy watching it happen. My husband comes to stand next to me and subtly rubs my back, offering a knowing smile. He's aware that as much joy I feel for our kid, I equally feel sorrow for myself; a little girl who wanted nothing but her mother's attention and never really got it in the way she needed it. The way my child is getting it from her now. And every time she does something small like get on the floor and play with my kid, my heart aches just a little bit for the little girl who wanted nothing more than her mom to play with her.
I should clarify: If there was a scale that weighed out the good and bad parts of my mother, I think the good would outweigh the bad.
There are countless times she's been there for me and my family. And I need to impress that I do love her, and ultimately am thankful for her. But the bumps in our relationship are big ones. And frankly there is a lot of hurt from my childhood that has bled into my adulthood. Having a child myself resurfaced a lot of it, especially when I watch those two together.
As loving as she can be, especially now, I always felt that I was a nuisance as a kid.
I have no memories of us playing together. We went on walks, she took me to the stores and to the library, but during the day I was not to bother her. She was always "busy," frantically cleaning or cooking. She was a housewife and I was an only child, so it was a lot of one-on-one time.
I'd do my best to be helpful or completely stay out of her way, because when my mother was upset, the entire tone of the house changed. I desperately feared "screwing up" by spilling something or making any sort of mess. It wasn't that she was ever physically abusive, but if something was slightly askew, she'd fly off the handle. Asking her to play was a trigger, and one I avoided once I figured out it was one.
I remember one time I spilled an entire box of cereal in our kitchen while trying to make my own breakfast. When she she saw me wildly trying to pick it all up, she screamed at me to get out of the kitchen, ranting out loud how hard I made her life and how much she wished we'd all leave her alone. She then proceeded to not talk to me for three days. That was her signature move: the silent treatment.
She'd withhold any communication, good or bad, for days with you if she was upset. And honestly, she was upset a lot and often over very small things. It didn't matter if she was mad at me, my father, or anyone else in the family. If she was upset, we were all on eggshells, doing our best to keep her happy for the sake of our sanity.
It was a really tumultuous environment, and one that I felt responsible to not disrupt. The doting, loving attention my son receives was rare when it came to my mother and I.
My mother had a pretty rough childhood, and I suspect becoming a parent for her unearthed a lot emotionally.
The issue when I was growing up is that it went wholly unaddressed, and it manifested in some really psychologically damaging ways for me. My father was the one who "dealt" with me for a majority of my childhood. He was the one who I played pretend for hours on end with, the one who'd take me to the pool, the one who'd build the sandcastle at the beach.
I cannot recall for the life of me my mother doing anything with me that didn't directly benefit her or a task at hand. And as a result, I withdrew from her. She wasn't to be bothered with silly things, and should I express that discomfort, she'd gaslight and shut me down. I felt like I was such a source of stress for her, adding any more onto by asking to play felt like I was asking for trouble.
Watching her act so carefree with my son is kind of trippy.
Being present with your child is … hard. You absolutely need time to recharge and replenish and you take the breaks you can. But my mother when she was "on" wasn't truly there. She absolutely fed and clothed me, and kept me clean, but she missed so many opportunities to truly connect to me, to foster an environment where I wasn't afraid to screw up even in small ways. I cannot recall a single memory of us just playing or relaxing on my terms as a kid. I was always trying to make her happy, and it really wasn't the other way around.
It's shaped a lot of how I interact with my own kid. There are times I of course tell them I am busy or have to get something done, but I slow down and give them time. I make sure I'm involved in adventures, that there isn't anything they can do that will make me wall off, and that I own up to any wrongdoing I may have been a part of.
I think she looks at my child like a do-over.
My mother now gets on the floor and plays. She takes trips to the water at the beach. She sits by the pool if we go in. She even poses in pictures. And I am happy for her that she has an opportunity to have this relationship, and there is no way I'd ever get in the way of that.
I cannot help but feel sad for myself, for the little girl who grew up with massive anxiety. For the little girl who walked on eggshells every time something minutely stressful happened. For the little girl who spent hours alone with her books and toys, wishing she would get hugged or cuddled or told she was the best thing in the world by her mother.
While I am so glad that my child will never know what that feels like, I'm jealous, too. Because truthfully there are no do-overs in life. My child isn't a second chance, and I think she will eventually realize it. It's a sad reality we both have to live with … but one that absolutely has taught me how to appreciate living in the now.
And truthfully, it's not all bad.
Seeing her with my child is like watching a completely different woman, and I am so happy for that.
My kid brings out the best in everyone, and when it comes to my mother, she is truly shining when she's with him. I love that he awakened her playful spirit, and that she's slowing down to appreciate those little moments of fun and wonder.
As sad as I am for myself, I am so thrilled for them. It's sort of like watching someone be reborn. I'm so lucky my child is surrounded by this kind of love, and in ways I am thankful to have had the relationship I did with her. If anything it taught me how much my disposition impacts my child. My mom might be forging a new path as a grandmom, and I certainly am as a mom. All I can do is try to heal and move forward, and thankfully, my kid will reap the benefits of that for years to come.
