60 is the new 50, right?

The mother daughter relationship is assuredly one of the most complicated, intimate, sporadically frustrating, demanding and beautiful in our lives. If you have a mother or a daughter or know one of either, I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. Even the best relationships between a mother and girl child can be tricky. Like a lot of mothers and daughters, my mother, Becky, and I have gone through many different stages in our relationship.

My mom and her little brother, Herb- 1956.

Some wonderful, some hideous. Those hideous ones were certainly prevalent in my teenage years. Sorry, Mom.  Every comment my mother made then was idiotic or old fashioned, taken the wrong way and blown out of proportion. It got better as I got older, I think. But even now we make assumptions about what the other is trying to say, are overly sensitive and don't listen as well as we should. We both do this. We don't mean to, but with so much history, skillful button pushing and love, it's messy.

Becky, young married, 1970 something, I loved wearing that apron.

 

Mom and my brother, Mike at our Red Bridge house- 1980.

Christmas around 1983. This was the year she made a scavenger hunt for me to track down the 

Annie movie soundtrack album hidden in the house. I was giddy.

Family reunion in 1992, Mike, Mom, me and those bangs, and my grandmother, Mary.

 

 Early 1990's career woman, silk blazer and serious eye shadow.

I love my mom. She has a bright white smile that lights up her eyes. She is beautiful.  She can strike up a conversation with anyone, anyone at all, and often does. She laughs easily. Her kind heart and open front door always made our house a place to congregate with friends when we were younger, because she listened and had good snacks. She cares about making things beautiful. She lets me take goofy self portraits with her out in public places.

She has a youthful exuberance about the things she really loves, and though I mock her for it, a deep abiding love of all things Twilight and Robert Pattinson, (he likes older women according to her.) She used to adore the Phantom of the Opera, but Robert has stolen the spotlight. I think she would lobby for President Obama to declare a national holiday when the next movie comes out. It keeps her young.

Despite her ridiculously teenage taste in movies, my mom has: taught me how to run a house, encouraged my love of reading and writing, driven me a gazillion times back and forth to the library, made me macaroni and cheese when I was sick, inspired my creativity, taught me how to apply eyeliner and mascara, dried my tears and listened to my sob stories about boys, or breakups, or school or fights with friends, taught me how to be a great hostess and throw a bash, brought me my amazing grandparents and little brother, cleaned up and sprayed that evil Bactine on my scraped knees, helped me paint my bedroom bright pink, sewed Halloween costumes, curtains, pillows and doll clothes late into the night. She helped mold me into an independent, bossy girl, much to her chagrin sometimes.

My mother's birthday was Wednesday. The weather was horrible on her actual birthday, so we didn't get together and postponed our celebrations to tonight instead.  I look forward to a little conversation and wine and laughter tonight. Because this is her 60th birthday. That's a significant milestone in anyone's life, and yet probably one that my mother would like to ignore. 60 is a little scary. But I think she needs to celebrate. The last few years have been challenging for her. But 2010 and beyond look so much more promising that I simply want to help her focus on that and on 2011. Mostly next to the celebrating, I just want to thank her. Thank you for all that you have done for me through out the years, despite our fights and disagreements, I hope you know how much I appreciate you and want to wish you a very happy birthday! I love you, Mom.