My Mother

"All women become like their mothers.  That is their tragedy.  No man does.  That's his."  ~Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest, 1895

We are the same, and the older I get the more I realize this.  Sometimes when I see a picture of myself or even see myself in a mirror, I am shocked by how much I look like her.  This is not a bad thing.  But it's not just the looks that are similar.  We have the same thought processes, the same feelings, the same sense of humor.  Neither one of us do very well with subtleties.  We are both sincere, both afraid, both worry a little too much.  We love thrift store shopping, pajamas, getting absorbed in a good book and sweets.  We will both always struggle with our weight.   We don't like loud noise,  we love naps, and would not be caught dead in a bathing suit in public.  We express ourselves much better in writing than by the spoken word. We are literal, deferential and uncertain.  We wait to be spoken to, don't like crowds and prefer a night at home to.......well, just about anything.  We like to take care of things and can easily be convinced that we are wrong. I am who I am because she is who she is, and always has been.

In honor of Mother's Day I have a story to share.  When I was in the 7th grade, Mama told me that she could see me being a pediatrician when I grew up.  I almost fell out.  I always thought I would be a teacher.  I mean, I had been practicing my ENTIRE childhood with all of the dolls.  I didn't know anything about the health profession, but I knew that to be a doctor you had to be SUPER smart, and I while I had always done well in school, I never thought of myself as smart or capable.  When she told me that one little comment, I completely internalized it.  I began to believe that I was smart and that I could do something challenging. (Not that becoming a teacher is not challenging - it certainly is and I still sometimes think I should have done it. I had just never before considered that I had options or the potential to do whatever I wanted to do.) And although I did not become a physician (a wonderful decision, as it turns out), I did something I NEVER would have thought that I could do as a child - I graduated college and moved out of state to go to pharmacy school, then got an MBA. Then did a residency. Then passed the BCPS exam and now have a job as a clinical pharmacist in the ICU.  It has been the hardest thing I have ever done - not so much the coursework or the actual work, but the living away from home, meeting all new people, leaving my comfort zone, learning how to interact professionally with others and be more assertive, etc.  And I know that a pharmacist is not a nuclear physicist or a physician or a CEO, but that's not the point. The whole process has been challenging for me because of my personality. And leaving my comfort zone has been one of the best and most rewarding decisions I have made. But I would never have thought that it was even a possibility if not for Mama.  She has never doubted my abilities (academically, at least, I'm pretty certain there were some doubts about my various athletic endeavors, Jr. Miss, choices of hair styles/colors etc.). And because she never doubted, I believed.

I would be remiss if I did not mention the many other ways that Mama has influenced my life.  At a very early age, she taught me the importance of lighter hair, especially around the face.  She taught me how to diet, how to wear makeup (sadly, I received a few follow-up lessons recently), how to get a tan, how to fix my hair (well, she did the best she could).  She taught me how to thrift shop, how to yard sale, and recommended books that I would like.  She taught me about the Midwest Center and the Believer's Voice of Victory.  She took me to Tammy's before my 8th grade prom & didn't laugh when she teased my hair to high heaven (until the pics came back).  She glued white rosettes to some navy blue dress shoes that matched my prom dress perfectly. Dancing with her to "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" at Kourtney's wedding will be one of the highlights of my entire life, as silly as that sounds.  When I am old, I will not remember our temporary disagreements or hurt feelings.  I will remember both of us, awkward as possible, letting go and having fun together for a few minutes.  She taught me how to make harvest casserole, mexican cornbread & Rice Krispie treats. She told me Brent was the one.  She's always been right, somehow.  About me, about life, about the future.  I cannot wait to know her as a grandmother. 

Because of all of this, I must disagree with Mr. Wilde.  Becoming more like my mother is not my tragedy. It is an honor.  And what I said at Jr. Miss still stands.  She is, and always will be, my best friend.