Not Yet Crazy

Sometimes I get the urge to write a book. The name of the book? How Not to Drive Your Daughter Crazy. My source of inspiration? My mom.

Easy target, you say. Everybody tries to blame his/her problems on the parents. Big deal. Well, it is a big deal because I became self conscious since my daughter once said to me, “That’s just like grandma!” In our household that’s not a compliment, and oh, what a shocker!

One of mom's favorite things to say is, “You should start using face cream. You are not young anymore, and really should pay attention to your skin. You get more wrinkles now that you’re older, you know.” It’s like a direct copy from a “Friends” episode when Monica Gellar’s mom asked her, “What’s with your hair?” and, when she replied, “Nothing,” her mom said, “Hmm…maybe that’s why.”

It’s funnier when it happens to other people.

Being raised by very old fashion parents, I could never talk back or tell them how they hurt my feelings. Never mind that my skin, among a couple of other things about me, is often the envy of my friends (unless they lied to me just to be polite). To be fair though, she does this to everybody, albeit not in those exact words.

Our conversation can go like this –
“Did you have your garage door fixed?”
“Yes, ma.”
“Make sure you don’t stay in the house when they fix it.”
“It’s already fixed.”
“You never know what kind of weirdo they might be. It’s safer for you to stay outside of the house when they are there. Do you hear me?”
“It’s already fixed, ma.”
“You can’t be too careful being a woman…do you hear me?”
“Ma…!”

Listening skills are not her strong suit, especially when she feels a lecture is in order-- which is most of the time.

So now I look at my daughter’s face (which is a very cute one) and dare not to suggest a scar cream to her. She has some signs of pimples left from her earlier years. I’m afraid even the slightest hint will result in her self doubt or resentment to me. I don’t want to be my mother. I’m trying very hard and don’t know how good or bad of a job I’m doing. I guess one good way is to avoid doing things she did that really bothered me. The difference between my daughter and me is: she can (I hope that’s how she feels) tell me if I said or did anything to hurt her feelings. Like the above example. I was offended at first (I am nothing like my mother! I thought), but then I tried to look at it this way: I strive to be not like my mother, but without a daughter I would probably never know how I am doing.

Although I do hope she will call her mother more often.