To Love A Mother, Part 2

I expect my mother to be perfect. Don’t we all? When my mother fails at perfection, I don’t understand. Isn’t that what it means to be a mother? To be perfect, always?

A mother shouldn’t be allowed any days off. There’s no being off the clock; no “sorry, that’s not in my job description.” I expect a mother to be selfless — completely, irrationally, unwaveringly, drop everything to come to my rescue, and give up your entire life for me selfless. Isn’t anything less just failure?

But when I start to think like that, I remind myself that my mother is just me — twenty years later. All my insecurities, all my inadequacies, twenty years more pronounced. This helps me stop being so critical of her all the time. Because time doesn’t make you perfect. It just gives everyone else longer opportunity to notice all your flaws.


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