Every time my friend has to go to visit her mother, she and her husband make a bet on how many times her mother will mention the word “baby.” Extra points are awarded if her mom pulls out pictures of her cousin’s, friends, brothers or sisters babies and sighs that she will never have grandchildren. If my friend’s mum mentions the word, ‘baby’ over 25 times, hubby has to do the dishes; if it’s under, my friend has to do them. It’s just one way she copes with the stress of having a crazy mother.
She is a card carrying member of the Crazy Mother’s Club. To be a member of the Crazy Mother’s club you have to be the daughter of a crazy mother. The level of serious of the crazy doesn’t matter, there are crazy mothers out there who are not alcoholics, drug addicts, depressives etc… but if you are a daughter of a seriously crazy mother, we are the women you want to talk to.
All our members sympathize and fully understand that as a daughter, you can love, respect and care for your mum while you duck her phone calls, find you need a drink after you talk to her or turn off the light and hide behind the couch when she shows up on your doorstep.
The point of the Crazy Mother’s Club is just to have someone to talk to who says, “Poor Baby,” and runs for the vodka when you sigh, “I’ve just talked to my mother.” It’s the code word for, “Would you consider breaking my legs and putting me in hospital?” when you tell them you have to go home for the holidays.
You have to be over 18 to be in the Crazy Mother’s club because every teen girl has moments when she thinks her mother is a Nutjob!~ But unfortunately, some of them are right.
Society puts the idea of motherhood on a pedestal. We are bombarded with images of Madonna’s, Earth Mothers, and June Cleaver’s in every aspect of our lives. A mother is; in the everyday world, considered an angel of nurturing, love support and caring. She is your best friend and is a font of patience, empathy, love and support.
In reality, a mother is a person who passed the practical.
So we end up with people who are considered mother’s that I wouldn’t trust to babysit my goldfish.
The average member of the Crazy Mother’s club though, just has a mother that gets on their nerves so bad that they go into a sweat when they have to call her on Mother’s Day.
My kids, of course were issued their cards at birth. I know that they consider me a crazy mother and I secretly fear they are right! Every mother does. If you find you think to yourself, “I’m the perfect mother!” Run; do not walk to a therapist! Do not pass go, do not collect $200.00.
The pedestal is just too high and wobbly for anyone to stay on it. It’s an ideal, not a place in this dimension. The only person I’ve ever even heard of who met that ideal was Mother Teresa and she didn’t have children.
When your kids are growing up being a crazy mother can definitely be an important weapon in your guerilla urban mom-fare kit.
I remember my four foot Gramma, getting up on a chair, grabbing my 6’ 4” cousin’s ear and telling him that if he spoke back to her again in that tone of voice, she was gonna’ jump!
I know men and women over the age of forty who still flinch at a flash of wooden spoon, or if they are Italian, the slipper!
Caitlin once begged a teacher, not to tell she didn’t do her homework, “because my Mom will ‘chat’ at me.”
Being a crazy mother instills a sense of awe in your children so that when they are twelve and the threat of turning them over your knee is laughable, they will still respect you.
Sometimes you just have to be a “Crazy Mother” to keep discipline.
Unfortunately there are some mothers who take it too far. I haven’t even spoken to my mother outside of family occasions for about ten years. Not because she hurt me, I can take a lot, but because she hurt my kids.
I admit I’m over protective of my kids. I even had a police officer advise me that I didn’t have to be so overprotective; I just had to get my son some steel toed boots. (But that’s another story.)
However, if I think someone is going to hurt someone I love, I can’t help it, my eyes turn stoplight green and my claws start growing. Yet this was an asset to my kids growing up because some school bullies were terrified that if they messed with my son or daughter, they were going to have to deal with me!
I’ve discovered that the average “crazy mother” is someone who can’t convince herself that her children are grown ups and doesn’t realize that her children have discovered she’s human.
As children grow up the relationship to their parents change. It’s only natural. There has to come a point when the power percentage shifts as sons and daughters recognize that their parent is a “person in their own right.” You will either become friends on an adult level or you will sign up for Crazy Mother’s Club cards.
And it’s hard on both sides to reach this point. As an outsider who grew up without her biological mother in her life I can stand back and see this.
For sons or daughters letting go of that Madonna-like image is terrifying, it’s letting go of a safety net. Mum stops being omnipotent and you have to start weighing her advice and ideas and making your own judgments and decisions, consequences and all.
For mothers, well they’ve spent 20 odd years having an appendage that walks, talks and cries all on its own and you just feel naked going outside the house without a child attached. It leaves you with a sense of something lost or forgotten, like leaving the iron on.
You just pray that when the time comes you can recognize that your children can or must take the consequences of their decisions. You do your best to raise them to be strong, responsible adults. You hope that in the end you not only have a daughter or son---you have a friend.
If your mother hasn't discovered this yet, if you are one of those daughters that got call display just to see if it was your mum calling, come on down and sign on up!
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