Mother, May I?
Last night I stood in the baking aisle at my local Super Target, in a dither. The spices were on sale, but which ones should I buy, if any? I couldn’t remember what I had, what needed to be replaced, and what was in danger of running out soon.
I’m not normally the kind of girl who thinks or cares too much about her spice cupboard, unless I happen to run out of cinnamon while mixing up a batch of pumpkin cookies. So what led me to stand there, palms slightly sweaty, wondering if it was the whole cardamom or the whole cloves back at home that came in the metal box that McCormick stopped making back in the Clinton administration?
About a month ago, my mom and my godmother came to stay with the kids for a week while DH and I took a vacation. It was a wonderful break, especially since we’ve spent the last six months consumed by our three-year-old’s health problems. So I scrubbed the house in preparation for their arrival, then spent an entire afternoon showing them how to operate all of the televisions in the house, handed them a 15-page book of instructions, and wished them luck. When we got back, I heard a lot from my mother about the dire state of my spice cupboard: “Did you know that your pumpkin pie spice came from Smith’s, and you haven’t lived in Utah for more than 10 years?,” “I much prefer Italian oregano to Mexican oregano,” and “You can get a big bottle of ‘real’ almond extract for not very much money at Sam’s Club.”
When she returned a few weeks later, she was bearing gifts, um, er, spices (those were considered gifts in biblical times, right?). She also said that she had meant to stick in a Penzey’s catalog for me to look at, but forgot. She proudly handed over half-dozen bottles of various exotic herbs– all things that I wouldn’t normally use in quesadillas, waffles, scrambled eggs, chicken nuggets, penne with parmesan cheese, and the other kid-friendly dinners my family survives on. Of course, when I was a kid, we never ate “nursery food.” Suffice it to say that cheese souffle was an easy meal at my house growing up.
Standing there last night, I was thinking about how I had grown up, moved out, gotten married, started a career, had a bunch of kids, etc… but at every turn, I feel my mom’s approval or disapproval weighing on me. Although by her standards, my spices might stink, but for what I need right now, they’re just fine. But I still can’t shake knowing that every time she opens that cupboard door to mix up sugar cookies with the kids, she’ll be judging me. It would be totally dumb to blow a whole chunk of money on new cumin and garam masala, but now I feel almost obligated to do it.
What is it that makes a grown woman’s relationship with her mother so complex? We love each other dearly, talk on the phone daily, and compete with each other nearly as frequently. She’s one of the first people I go to with good news, but also one of the people whose opinions I fear the most. It doesn’t seem to be the same way for men and their mothers, or men and their fathers, at least in my limited experience. My mother-in-law would be much more likely to give her own daughter unsolicited parenting advice than she would give it to me, and South Texas would freeze over before my mom said anything at all about the spice cupboard at my brother’s house.
A couple of days ago, a package arrived in the mail at our house. It was a new bathing suit I ordered for my kindergartener. My mom told me that her old one was ugly, and I’m obviously not cured of wanting to please my mommy. If I think that parenting little kids is sometimes hard, I can only imagine that there’s a very delicate balance in parenting adults, and I hope that I can find it before my kids reach adulthood. In the meantime, I think I need to take a cue from my seven-year-old and learn to hear selectively.
You should definately cut yourself some slack, and realise that you are a wonderful mother even without constant criticism and advice coming from the general direction of the mothership - although it is good to realise that maybe the reason we are such great mothers is because we learned from the best:) I have a very complicated relatioship with my father, somewhat similar to the one you seem to have with your mother, but maybe it is because he is the one that raised me. He can be so very manipulative in his methods of getting me to think, act and live the way he does (his life’s mission it seems sometimes). I resent the fact that he is sometimes right about things, because most of the time I prefer to figure out things myself - or at least feel like I am! Like many mothers out there, I am always striving for a way to continue to love my parents as I know they deserve, without letting the negative aspects of the relationship (the criticism and manipulation, etc) get to me, or affect my children in any way. I have actually found that it helps to let them feel that you need them a little bit - I think that is something that parents of adults really need to feel. When I acknowledge that I need them in my life and do little things to show this, I feel like I can take back the authority I need in my own life and family without the guilt of not accepting every bit of advice or agreeingwith every lecture.
Comment by pom — April 9, 2008 @ 2:02 pm
i like you shelah. you should be a permablogger too! ♥
and i don’t know why, but the font on my computer made the letter “m” look like ” r n”. i had to double take pom’s name!
Comment by Blue — April 9, 2008 @ 2:51 pm
You shouldn’t come to my house. Spices is something I’m good at, having over 75 different spices. Though if you put chicken in your quesadillas seasoned with a little cumin, chili powder (a dash adds no heat) and lime juice - yum!
But I hear you. For nearly a decade I lived thousands of miles from my parents. I played hostess to them once. Now it is every couple of months. Each time, I am filled with trepidation. My house isn’t clean enough. I don’t know what to cook for them (I am a self-taught “gourmet” of sorts, but mostly involving things with lots of spices and a lot of East Asian cuisine - this my parents don’t eat. I cannot, for instance, make a lasagna). They never SAY anything, but I feel it.
I feel it even more when it comes to finances. I am THE breadwinner in our house, making significantly more than DH who, while 9 years my senior, is just starting his career. My siblings are more stable economically. We’re saddled with debt - poor choices, some inherited from DH’s first marriage, some school, etc. I feel that each time I see them that I am wondering if I measure up, if DH measures up, if they think we’ve disappointed them.
It’s enough to drive a woman mad.
Comment by Sara — April 9, 2008 @ 2:58 pm
haha! Maybe I should change that…
Comment by pom — April 9, 2008 @ 3:26 pm
ahhhhahhaha…pom, that’s funny.
Shelah, aren’t mother’s interesting. Even though my mother is somewhat checked out of life there are still certain issues that I feel I need her approval. My spice cupboard isn’t one of those things. I don’t even think she knows what a spice cupboard is. . I think I am more with pom on the Dad thing. I have a better relationship with him than i have with my mother. Weird, but true. My mom wasn’t that “normal” everyday, typical bake you cookies when you get home from school, make scrapbooks, or homemade baby wipes. She was just MOM. I don’t resent her, she did what she could with what she had, but that is way of topic. Funny how our parents still have that much “control” over us.
Comment by Sunshine — April 9, 2008 @ 3:45 pm
I suppose if I tried hard, I could remember whatever it was about my mother than made me feel uncomfortably five years old again. But since she is gone now, and since you wrote about spices, may I say that spices and extracts were one of the things that joined the two of us. I might never have used some of the spices, and I’m sure some of the extracts evaporated before I got to them, but whenever I started over in life — when I moved out on my own, when I went to school, when I moved to a new state after my mission — my mother gave me a package of spices and extracts as a housewarming gift. They were expensive, and she knew I had a lot of other start-up costs, and whether I used all the spices or not, she didn’t want me needing some spice that I didn’t have. So you pass me the rum extract and I’ll pass you the sage, and we can raise our little bottles in a toast to my mother’s love for me. Thanks for the memory.
Comment by Ardis Parshall — April 9, 2008 @ 3:48 pm
There was a time in my very young adulthood when I felt like my mom had nothing positive to say to me. Finally I had to tell her, “When you criticize me, it hurts my feelings. I need you to stop.”
Thankfully, she did.
Thankfully, she was a mom who taught me to stand up for myself. Even to her.
Comment by Ana — April 9, 2008 @ 4:08 pm
Mom’s of adult women need to be needed. Granted some women are over bearing and controlling. But, by not seeing them that way and appreciating the things they do, by not saying I love you, but . . . A stronger more mature relationship is possible.
It is so difficult to give an adult daughter a gift. So when one sees something that would be an addition then the opportunity to give a gift that is really needed and hopefully meaningful can hardly be passed up.
But, when a gift is received without joy what good is it.
Comment by Claudia — April 9, 2008 @ 4:46 pm
Yea! for Penzey’s!! I LOVE Penzey’s!
Comment by apaperbackwriter — April 9, 2008 @ 4:58 pm
Most ground spices lose their kick after 6 months. Throw out everything old you have, it’s probably not doing much anyway.
Comment by jjohnsen — April 9, 2008 @ 5:03 pm
Ardis– That made me tear up a little bit. Thanks for sharing!
Claudia– I fully realize that I, as an adult (and probably the only one in the relationship aware that there is even an issue about these kind of things– I’m very good at smiling and hugging and thanking and sweeping things under the rug) am the one who needs to change, because I’m the only one I can change, kwim? And I did express thanks for the gift– and it was sincere, because I know her heart is in the right place. We too bond over food– but the difference is that when we watch FoodTv, I salivate and she actually goes into the kitchen and makes what she sees, and when we read Cooking Light, I see pretty pictures, and she sees potential dinners. Our favorite place to hang out when she comes to town is Central Market, an amazing grocery store. It’s just not the season of my life to be making fancy dinners.
JJohnsen– Have you been talking to my mom? That’s exactly her argument. I tend to think it’s a conspiracy on the parts of the spice companies to keep themselves in business
Maybe the ten-year-old cloves do need to go, though.
Comment by Shelah — April 9, 2008 @ 5:17 pm
Your 10 year old bottle of cloves is nothing. A few months ago my MIL cleaned out her mother’s kitchen cupboards and offered me - wait for it - this is really mind-blowingly good - a bottle of vanilla extract with a “Best before” date of October 1983.
Comment by Quimby — April 9, 2008 @ 5:25 pm
Quimby– If it’s real vanilla, then that some vintage likker you got yourself there. It’s probably worth something.
Comment by Shelah — April 9, 2008 @ 5:28 pm
I’m the cook in the family. Trust me, you can tell a huge difference between Spaghetti made with 6 month old basil and three-year-old basil. If your spice has any sort of musty smell, or no smell at all, throw it away. If you think it’s a racket, buy whole spies and grind them yourself. Then they’ll last 3-4 years. Also keep them away from heat and sunlight, sealed in an airtight container if possible. The heat and air take the oils away that actually give the spice its flavor.
All those old spices are just taking up space. Anyway, if you haven’t used them by now are you really going to use them?
Comment by jjohnsen — April 9, 2008 @ 5:40 pm
My response to the bathing suit comment? Well, it cost x dollars at the thrift store, (or on sale or whatever, and it works fine.) If you want to buy her a new one, feel free. She’ll probably grow out of it before the end of summer anyway, so I’m not too worried about fashionable swimwear at this point in her life.
Comment by allyall — April 9, 2008 @ 5:57 pm
Shelah, I think I get what you are saying. Why as grown women do we still care what our Mom’s think of what we do? My mom passed away 11 years ago and I still KNOW what she would think of a lot of things I do. Now that my children are starting to get married I am trying so hard not to ever give my opinion on anything unless I am asked. I still have two daughters at home ages 9 and 13, and I try to imagine if the things I say to them now are going to be ringing in their ears years from now. I don’t know what it is that makes it all so complex, but I empathize.
Comment by wistfulblue — April 9, 2008 @ 6:51 pm
Ardis, that was a cool memory to share AND a great housewarming gift idea. Beats the pants off an ivy. Thanks.
Maybe it’s just because I’m still in student/training mode but, pathetically, if someone offered me just about anything free, I would grab it
As for moms, I think I’ve just seen too many Hallmark commercials. My mom and I are so incredibly different but there is still a longing (eg women who talk to their mothers daily BLOW me away).
Comment by Lupita — April 9, 2008 @ 7:00 pm
#12, I can beat that one.
While cleaning out a back cupboard, my mother found a Schilling BOX of cloves with a price stamped (not a sticker) on it: 21 cents. The cloves still smelled fine, but of course we didn’t use them. Mom thinks the box may be nearly 50 years old. Apparently, Mom doesn’t use a lot of cloves. (I kept the box for fun.)
#17. I talk to my mom every day. She’s 81 and I don’t know how many days I’ve got left to remind her how wonderful she ism so I make the most of each one (Dad too — he’s nearly 84). Maybe you’re not old enough yet to appreciate your mom; it took me until I was 35 to figure out how great my parents are.
Comment by apaperbackwriter — April 9, 2008 @ 8:30 pm
#18..when I started having kids I began to realize things about my parents. The older the kids get, the more I appreciate my parents. I had to let my mom go, so to speak. Right now she isn’t the mother that I want her to be. She is a recovering prescription drug addict, morbidly obese, and sleeps all day. She is so depressed it is depressing to watch, but she chooses to stay there, so, as hard and very painful as it is, I mostly have made my peace. I know in my mothers heart of hearts she wouldn’t choose to be where she is now. She just doesn’t know how to use the tools she has been given. I love my mom. I think there comes a time in every womans life when she realizes that mom/dad isn’t always right. Sometimes that revelation can be painful, too.
Comment by Sunshine — April 9, 2008 @ 8:41 pm
I feel like I’m going through that same phase as well–trying to let go of how I want my mom to be and accepting her as she is. I have a lot of resentment over things she didn’t do right or ways she didn’t support me, but as I’ve grown older and started having my own children I’ve realized more things about her that make sense. She also isn’t the most supportive or caring person in the world, at least not to me. She won’t be like some of my friends’ moms that fly out and take care of them after they have babies or who chat with them on the phone every day. But there are other things she does well and she is my mom, so I’m trying to love her as she is instead of how I want her to be. But it’s hard. Especially because I’m not how she wants me to be and so we have these expectations of each other that just aren’t met. It’s hard to love people as they are instead of expecting them to be just like us.
My mom isn’t a good cook and I’ve learned to very carefully inspect anything in her refrigerator when I’m there. Last week I found year-old maple syrup (the real stuff) that was growing mold. I’m glad I checked before I put it on my kids’ pancakes…
Comment by FoxyJ — April 9, 2008 @ 9:19 pm
#20 yep!! It is interesting to see what we find when we add ourselves into the equation.
Comment by Sunshine — April 9, 2008 @ 9:22 pm
Hmm. This post resonates with me, especially since I had a similar conversation with my own mom two years ago when she moved in: “Is that the SAME spice rack you got for your wedding?!?!?” [8 years ago] Yes, it is. I have no use for celery salt or coriander. I should probably just throw the whole thing out.
And yes, I did say when she moved in. Sigh. We invited my mom and little brother to live with us for a few years until he graduates from high school. The point was to turn him around and help her get on her feet. They should be moving out this summer. It has been hard. I don’t think anyone cares to know all the details or dynamics, but I am not close with my mother. When I was a teenager, I hated living at home. I disliked being around my mom. I was always cranky and curt and solved the problem by being home as little as possible. After I left for college, I called once a week on Sunday to make sure everyone was still alive at home and never went back. After I left home, I started to enjoy life and discovered that I am actually a nice person. But it is interesting that with her living with me, I feel like I am the same cranky, snarky teen stuck in a 30 year old’s body with 4 kids (and I act like it a lot, too, in case you haven’t noticed). The problem is that now I can’t just leave home all the time to escape from my mother. I’m needed here to raise my kids and keep my hubby happy.
Mother/daughter issues are challenging, and they are amplified even more when you live together under the same roof (particularly if only one of you cooks and cleans). It is not something I would wish on anyone.
Comment by Stephanie — April 10, 2008 @ 8:07 am
#11 I’m the only one I can change, kwim?
Shelah: You are aware of a great and wonderful truth.
Comment by Claudia — April 10, 2008 @ 9:28 am
Naw, hate to disappoint you, but the balancing act of parenting adults continues on a daily basis. Should I say it? Is it important? Are they going to get mad at me? Then you add the whole grand kid thing and what Bam-maw thinks is best for her beloveds, and oh dear, it is quite messy at times.
I guess for me and my kids, how we manage to tolerate each other is just to remember how much we love each other and try not to let the little things get to us.
I know it bugs that we still care as adults what our moms think. I have a little voice in my head, whenever I do something or even think of doing something that my mom would disapprove of. I used to hate that voice.
Now I rejoice, because guess what I realized? That voice, now in my own timber resides in my own kids heads! Whoo hoo, lets hear it for Karma and payback. Regardless of whether or not my kids are doing something make them proud, my voice is still present in their minds, encouraging them to do the right. I love it.
Comment by Jo — April 10, 2008 @ 9:44 am
MIL was here a few weeks ago, and DW and her got into another huge screaming match. DW finally said to her mother the two things I’ve been encouraging her to say for years — “You don’t come to visit my house, you come to visit *me*” and “If you can’t learn to accept me and love me, you’re no longer invited to visit”.
(DW will never be the homemaker her mother is. But I didn’t marry her for that. The house was actually pretty darn clean when MIL visited, but it could never match her standards.)
I don’t believe mothers have an absolute right to butt into their daughters lives, and I don’t believe daughters have to sit there and take it from their mothers.
It’s sad, yes. But we’ve never been happier than in the last few years, when we realized that the problems between DW and her mother stem in great part from her mother, and we shouldn’t have to apologize for that.
If you’re a parent, part of maintaining a relationship with your children is YOUR challenge, not theirs.
Comment by queuno — April 10, 2008 @ 11:09 am
jjohnson, yes, fresh basil may lose its potency in a short time. The solution? Never let your DH or kids know about it — if all they’ve tasted is Prego, they’ll never know what they’re missing! =)
Comment by Teresa — April 10, 2008 @ 11:10 am
(Combining 25 and 26, one reason I married my wife is because she makes sauce from scratch, without a recipe. It gives me heartburn every time because it’s so potent, but I love it. I haven’t thought of the term “Prego” in 20 years.)
Comment by queuno — April 10, 2008 @ 11:15 am
queuno, it’s a trade-off here. My family gets made-from-scratch bread, cheesecake, birthday cakes, and cookies along with some pretty fantastic meals 3-4 times a week (the other days are filled with quick and easy). But I made spaghetti sauce from scratch a few times, and honestly, it was barely better than our fave bottle, so I decided, why waste three hours and dirty a bunch of pots?
Maybe I just need a better recipe?
Comment by Teresa — April 10, 2008 @ 12:00 pm
Oh, if only my mother cooked & could pass on that sort of advice, along with some good parenting tips. Instead, since her area of expertise is psychology, my oldest daughter has been diagnosed with everything from add to mild autism. I once called Mom to tell her about my very frustrating day with dd hoping to get a little sage advice. Instead she & my dad both got online & found an LDS child psychologist in my area so I could go get some help (along with medication) for dd. sigh. We finally had it out over that issue & she has stopped diagnosing & started accepting my dd for who she is. they have a much better relationship now & so do my mom and me.
I think mothers have things they are passionate about & want to pass on that knowledge to their daughters b/c they’ve seen the value of said passion or interest in their own lives. But it’s so hard for children to see mothers as anything but mothers, so their advice comes off as “motherly” advice rather than expert advice. Anyway, I feel your pain shelah. My mom just left last week & this week I’m noticing all the things I’m doing differently b/c they are things she does. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I guess I’m grateful for the mom I’ve got & the relationship I have with her. Daughter #3 has gotten a purse stuck on her head so I better stop blabbing & attend to this emergency.
Comment by brittany — April 10, 2008 @ 12:16 pm
Teresa - DW claims to have a basic recipe for her sauce (she never follows it, but she says it will work). She has a 4-gallon pot and makes about 2-3 gallons at a time. It freezes well. With our family, it’ll last about 10-12 dinners.
DW says it’s Northeastern Italian — her heritage — so it’s more meaty and less sweet (i.e., no green peppers, like you’d find in a Sicilian sauce). All I know is that I get heartburn whenever I eat it, but that I’ll eat it out of the pot with a spoon — no pasta needed.
(And since I’ve asked her this, she is reminded that she hasn’t made a batch in awhile.)
We’re looking for the recipe and will post it.
Comment by queuno — April 10, 2008 @ 9:01 pm
Spaghetti Sauce
1 lb. ground beef
1 medium onion, chopped
3 stalks celery, chopped
1 t. oregano
1 t. basil
1 t. fennel
1/4 t. pepper
1 1/2 t. salt
1/4 c. parsley flakes
2 28-oz cans of crushed tomatoes (or 56 oz. of your own)
2 28-oz cans tomato paste
1/2 c. parmesan cheese
Brown ground beef, then drain off fat. Add onion and celery. Sautee for ten minutes or until onion and celery are limp. Add tomatoes to meat mixture along with tomato paste. Add in the herbs and salt and pepper. Stir in cheese last. Simmer for at least 2-4 hours (the longer, the better).
Can be doubled or tripled, depending on size of pot. Freezes well in Tupperware.
Comment by LH (queuno's wife) — April 10, 2008 @ 9:23 pm
(You can use actual parsley, if you chop it fine.)
Comment by LH (queuno's wife) — April 10, 2008 @ 9:27 pm
that sauce sounds divine queuno. thank you and ms. queuno!
sunshine and foxyj, i really appreciated your thoughts about the mom relationship. this post has a lot of good insight. i have no relationship with my parents at the moment…and i’ve really struggled with that at times. i don’t know how to be with them and not be depressed, anxious and miserable. so i told them i just needed a break. it’s been 19 months now, and i see no end in sight. this post has put a bee back in my bonnet on the subject. thanks to all of you.
♥
Comment by Blue — April 10, 2008 @ 11:47 pm
queuno, thanks! I’m actually feeling rather inspired by the recipe. I may have to get on that this weekend!
Not that there’s much more to say on this thread, but I want to echo Ardis. My dad and I butted heads on a regular and sometimes rather intense basis for pretty much all my life. I knew he loved me, and he was my dad, but we were too much alike, and that got in the way a lot. He passed away almost seven years ago — missing his grandson by a year and a half. There are still (and always will be, I’m certain) moments when my children do something adorable or hilarious, and I tear up a bit thinking about how much I wish they could have known each other.
I’m not saying that those who have difficult relationships w/ parents should just “get over it” by any means. But losing my dad has been a blessing in that I *try* to make sure that were someone I love to go today, I wouldn’t have to live with regret.
Comment by Teresa — April 11, 2008 @ 9:43 am
I take no credit for the recipe. DW, Lizz, the great LH, deserves the credit. Or probably more specifically, her mother, to whom she’s not speaking at the moment.
I’ll pass along your gratitude, since she’s obstinate and refuses to read this blog for herself.
The Deseret News ran an article that someone forwarded me, about how to decide what to get rid of when you are cleaning up clutter. I’ve found that the advice applies nicely to relationships.
http://deseretnews.com/dn/view/0,5143,695267153,00.html
Comment by queuno — April 11, 2008 @ 2:25 pm
Ahhhhh - I typed in the wrong amount of tomato paste. It’s 24 ounces (two 12-ounce cans), not 56. Apologies.
- Lizz
Comment by LH — April 20, 2008 @ 9:46 am
Ok, the UPS man just arrived with a big package from Penzey’s in the mail. My anniversary is this week, and apparently my mom still thinks I need spices.
Comment by Shelah — April 22, 2008 @ 3:55 pm