Mommy Dearest Thanks

My mother hates it when I call her "mommy dearest." In middle school when my mom often made my brother and I watch classic movies (we actually loved watching them but because it was decidedly uncool to admit you liked Alfred Hitchcock at 12 or even knew who Alfred Hitchcock was, we had to pretend indifference.) When she had us watch the Joan Crawford bio pic where Crawford insists that her children don't just call her mom, but "mommy dearest" all the time, I was hooked. I called my own mother that in a simpering voice for days afterward. And she hated it. So of course I kept doing it. What parent wants to be compared to the awful, abusive massive shouldered Joan anyway? Certainly not my mother. But because I was 12 it was funny. I should know better but I still do it occasionally now. She just cringes and shakes her head and gives me that mother look that says "you know how much I hate that don't you? Then don't do it." and I feel guilty like I'm 12 years old again. I roll my eyes and we laugh.

Today I'm thankful for a goofy, serious, sweet, easy lunch with my mom last Saturday. Often mother daughter relationships are challenging and ours certainly has qualified as that over the last twenty years. But Saturday it was just nice to be together. Just enjoy each other's company and laugh and tease and not take ourselves too seriously or be too sensitive or judgmental. We sat over our Chipotle and just talked and it was simple. So thanks for that, Mom. Oh, and for teaching me to love movies and you know, giving birth to me and stuff.